Joy was a white light momentarily blinding Daoud. His heart was beating as hard and fast as if it had been he who had made the cast. "Nicetas! Yah, Nicetas!" he cheered. Loud cries of admiration went up. Nicetas retrieved his rumh and waved it over his head, standing in the stirrups as he rode back to the troop. He jumped down from his horse, and Kassar, already dismounted, went to meet him. Kassar's heavy walk, his clenched fists, the rage in his face, told Daoud there was going to be trouble. He felt hot anger surging up inside him, but he reminded himself again that Nicetas must fight his own battles. The boys surrounded Kassar and Nicetas, the naqeeb with his green turban in their midst. Daoud pushed himself into the innermost circle. "Bring me the mail shirt," said Nicetas. "_I_ won," Kassar declared, glowering down at him. "I smashed the ring, a thing you are too weak to do." He looked away from Nicetas and moved his head from side to side, glaring around the circle of boys, challenging any of them to contradict him. No one spoke. No one wanted to quarrel with Kassar, especially on behalf of a boy no one knew. Daoud felt angry words rushing up inside him, but he kept himself in check. To take up Nicetas's quarrel unasked would insult Nicetas. If things got too far out of hand, the naqeeb would intervene. Daoud felt himself abruptly pushed to one side. He turned to protest, and then checked himself. It was Mahmoud, leaving the circle that surrounded Nicetas and Kassar. As Daoud watched in amazement, the gray-bearded naqeeb walked to his red-and-white-striped tent and sat down cross-legged on the carpet in front of it, calmly gazing at the sandstone cliffs as if what was going on did not concern him at all. _He should be the one to declare Nicetas the winner_, Daoud thought, as angry now as he was astonished. _Is he, too, afraid of Kassar?_ "When you broke the ring, that was a miss," said Nicetas. "You lost. The shirt is mine." "You will have to take it from me," said Kassar with a grin. "Come to my tent and you can wrestle me for it." Now he made the gesture encircling his forefinger that Nicetas had made before. What would Nicetas do, Daoud wondered. He was not big enough to hurt Kassar--but if he yielded, Kassar would make a slave of him and subject him to abominations. "I had heard that a Tartar never goes back on his word," said Nicetas. "I see now that at least one Tartar is a lying jackal." _Good!_ Daoud thought fiercely. In a battle of insults, he felt sure, the talkative Greek would have the upper hand over the dour Tartar. Kassar reddened, and he smashed his fist into Nicetas's jaw. The Greek boy fell to the ground, and Daoud saw that his eyes were blank, dazed. But Nicetas shook his head and forced himself to his feet. "Your fist can't restore your honor, Kassar. You have fucked it too many times."