Then he saw a palmprint, the same dried color, and the pain in his heart sharpened.
He saw the movement again, at the far end of the crevice. A figure lay with its legs stretched out before it, its back propped against the brown stone. Pale hands were clasped over its stomach.
He heard a low, moaning sound, and realized it was coming not from Nicetas but from his own mouth.
Daoud ran and fell to his knees beside him. The half-open eyes widened and the amber gaze turned in his direction. The Greek boy's face was reddened with dust that clung to his sweat. His lips, partially open, were so dry and encrusted they looked like scabs. Daoud put his hand on Nicetas's cheeks. His face was burning.
Now the hurt in Daoud's heart was like death itself.
I am going to lose him.
But this was no time to wail and weep. He must do everything he could. It might yet be God's will that he save his friend.
Let him live, oh God, and I will never sin with him again.
"I knew you would come." The voice was so faint Daoud could barely hear it above the wind whistling past the mouth of the crevice.
Daoud sprang to his feet and ran to his pony to get his water bottle. He untwisted the stopper over his friend's mouth.