Mahmoud's threat seemed to help the troop's marksmanship. Only one boy missed in the next round. In that round and the one that followed, Daoud's rumh flew true both times. The second time, he felt dizzy with relief, and he leaned forward and hugged his horse's neck as he rode back to his place. One more round and they could rest. Daoud's body ached, especially his back and his arms. He felt a clenching in his stomach, knowing that he had to get his lance through the ring this time. His khushdashiya would hate him, and he would hate himself, if he missed. And the more he feared missing, the more he would be likely to miss. "Never mind hitting a slave," said Nicetas just before his turn. "Do us all a favor, hit the naqeeb." Daoud laughed. Nicetas rode out and hit the target as usual. Feeling less tense, Daoud rode out to make his third cast. He held his breath until he saw his long lance sail smoothly through the dark-rimmed circle. He shouted with joy and turned his mount back toward the troop. He did not hug his horse this time. Laughing, he rode up beside Nicetas, threw his arms around him, and pulled the skinny body against his larger frame. Nicetas's eyes seemed to sparkle as they looked into his when Daoud let him go. It turned out to be another perfect round, and Mahmoud declared they could stop to pray and eat. _Thank God!_ Daoud said fervently to himself. The sun had crossed from the zenith to the western part of the sky. Mahmoud led them in reciting the prayers, facing south toward Mecca. Then each julban took a portion of stale bread and dry goat cheese from a pouch hanging from his saddle, and a single draft from his water skin. The swallow of warm water Daoud took tasted foul, but he had to fight down the impulse to drink more. He sat down before his small tent to eat. "May I sit with you?" Daoud squinted up into the sun to see the Greek boy standing over him. "Please," said Daoud, gesturing to the sand beside him. They ate in silence for a time. Daoud looked up from the hard bread he was relentlessly chewing and saw Nicetas smiling at him. He smiled back. "You were eating by yourself," Nicetas said. "Do you sleep alone, too?" Daoud nodded. "Would you like to have a tent mate?" Before Daoud could answer, a shadow fell over them. Daoud looked up. Kassar stood between them and the sun, half a dozen of his friends around him. He glowered down at Nicetas. "You think you are good?" Nicetas's smile was friendly. "It is in the blood. Greeks are good at games." "You throw like a girl," Kassar said to Nicetas. The Kipchaq's followers laughed dutifully. Daoud felt his face burn with anger. He wanted to say something on Nicetas's behalf, even though it was the rule that each boy must defend himself. Nicetas, still smiling pleasantly and looking quite unafraid, stood up with lithe grace to face Kassar.