Daoud felt as if he were standing at the mouth of an enormous black cave. It was one thing to know that Qutuz was not fit to rule. It was another thing to think of striking down the sultan, the anointed of God. If Daoud entered this cave, he might never come out again. He might leave it only to fall into the flames of hell. He seemed to see stars in the depths of the cave, as if he were looking into the world beyond the world. Somewhere among those stars, God dwelt in His paradise with those He loved around Him, the Archangel Gabriel, and the Prophet, and Abraham and Jesus, and the saints and martyrs of Islam.
Is it God's will that I kill the sultan? How can I know?
He could not know. But he did know that second only to his submission to God, the most important thing in his life was devotion to his emir. As Baibars said, his khushdashiya and his emir were all a Mameluke had.
He leaned closer to Baibars.
"Whoever dishonors my lord Baibars deserves instant death at the hands of my lord's servant."
Baibars closed both eyes with a look of satisfaction.
"Have I asked you to kill—anyone?" he said.
"No, Effendi."
They sat in silence again. The desert wind hummed in the ropes of Baibars's tent, and the poles shifted and creaked.
"If someone wished to kill Qutuz," said Baibars, "he should recall that we are now very close to El Kahira. Once Qutuz rides on streets festooned with silks and carpeted with flowers, once people see him as the victor of the Well of Goliath, they will love him too much. They would never accept his being taken from them. We could not control their fury."