Daoud almost laughed aloud with relief. With an immense effort he held himself rigid, his fists clenched so tightly at his side they hurt. Mansur was telling everyone who knew what had happened what they were to tell everyone who did not know.
Would anyone contradict Mansur? No one did. Relief spread through him.
Carefully, almost delicately, Mansur laid the dagger on the floor beside Qutuz. He stood up, wiping his hands on his mantle.
With rapid strides the commander of the halkha crossed the chamber toward Baibars. To arrest him? What choice had Mansur made?
To bow deeply before Baibars. He made a graceful, sweeping gesture toward the vacant throne.
"My Lord, the power is yours."
Praise to God!
Baibars's single-eyed gaze paused for an instant, Daoud saw, as it fell upon each of the emirs. In the look he fixed upon each there was both question and challenge.
Some of the emirs bowed their turbaned heads slightly. Others, like Kalawun al-Elfi, simply looked back at him in silence, and that was assent enough.
Baibars raised his right hand toward the vaulted ceiling, the wide sleeve of his robe falling away from his powerful arm.