Tafiq glowered at her and put down one of the quail. "Niece, a peaceful house is one where everyone knows their place and works to the common good. A house where the servants think themselves the masters is an unhappy house, filled with ill will." He smiled thinly at Uri, across the table. "The ben-Sarid, of course, are happily our equals in blood and breeding."

Mohammed, with a great effort, held his tongue. He would see how Roxane wanted to handle this.

"Uncle, please! No one in our clan seeks to rise above his or her appointed station. But you are unhappy- pray tell, why?"

Tafiq opened his mouth, eyes brimming with anger, when another round of servants arrived, this time bearing a great tray with a roasted lamb on a bed of rice and wild herbs.

"Ah," Roxane said, holding up her hand and turning away from her uncle, "the main course! Please, try the mint sauce that I have madean ancient recipe I learned in the house of my mother. Delicious!"

Flames leapt up at one end of the building, billowing out of the windows that looked over the garden. Jalal shouted at his men fighting among the trees and pointed at the fire. The attackers were pouring over the garden wall- someone had thought to bring ladders. The Tanukh in the yard fell back to the long, shaded porch at the rear of the house. On the roof, Jalal and his archers covered their retreat with a flurry of arrows. A dozen of the attackers fell, pinned back against the wall by the black shafts, but more kept coming.

"There are too many of them," Shadin gasped, who had scrambled up onto the roof. His face had a long smear of blood across his cheek, and he had lost his helmet somewhere. His sword was dripping with gore, and the links of his chainmail shirt were fouled with mud.

"Yes," Jalal said, stringing another arrow to his bow, "we need reinforcements." He sighted and fired, oblivious to the roar of the flames or the cracking sound of roof tiles shattering in the heat. Another of the attackers staggered, the arrow jutting from his thigh. The man stumbled and fell, grasping at the blood flooding from his severed femoral artery. Jalal's eyes moved, seeing the next man as a rushing shape. He plucked an arrow, drew, and fired in one breath. It missed, the man moving at the last moment.

"The Quryash?I doubt they would aid anyone not bound by blood and birth to them."

Jalal lowered the bow. The attackers in the garden had thrown open the gates, and a hundred men or more had rushed in. He gestured for the boy with the basket of arrows to fall back along the ridgeline of the house. The other men were already scuttling back.

"Where is Sayyqi?He has something in his saddlebags we can use."

Shadin shook his head as he jogged along the rooftop. "He went with the captain to dinner. What is it?"

Jalal cursed- he had forgotten about the captain in the rush of battle. Now his liege lord and master was on the hill, somewhere, and might already be dead. Holding this building was a useless task in any case. He turned at an open door set into the roof. Stairs went down into the house. He could hear the shouts and clatter of battle in the building below. It sounded like the Tanukh in the house were still holding the main floor.

"Shadin- fire the back of the house and keep these bandits off of the roof. We're leaving and we'll go out over the front wall. I'll be back with everyone else in a moment."

Jalal slid down the stairs in great haste and began shouting for his men to form up on him. Above him was a cracking sound as Shadin and the others ran back down the roof. Smoke began to creep along the ceiling of the hallway.

Mohammed pushed the plate away from him, feeling very satisfied. His daughter's cooks had not disappointed him- the lamb had been tender and young, the carrots and squash perfectly cooked. Only delicate spices had been used, and just enough to enhance the flavor of the meats and not enough to crush all other taste, as the Romans would have done. Too, it was restful to listen to Uri and Tafiq bicker over precedence and status in the city. It reminded him of his own house.

"This is ridiculous," Tafiq snapped, jabbing at the ben-Sarid lord with a hunk of flatbread. "The Bani Hashim hold place of precedence in the city by right of tradition and- more to the point- because we are the best suited to lead the community. We have the most experience, the most wealth, the most desire to better all."

"Not true," Uri interjected hotly. "The customs laws and tax policies are all weighted in the favor of existing businesses- like yours! Huge fees for new construction or renovation stymie those of us who are attempting to bring new business into the city, or to create new fabricae. You are protecting yourself at our detriment- when there is trade and wealth enough for all!"

Tafiq laughed out loud, an ugly braying sound. Mohammed turned his mind back to the matter at hand. Though Roxane had attempted to bring the circumstances of the current dispute between the Quryash and the Bani Hashim to light during the course of the dinner, Tafiq had refused to talk of it. Then Uri had been baited into this argument about taxes and fees. Mohammed caught Roxane's eye and raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged, giving him a despairing look.

Well, he thought to himself, she's not her mother yet. But perhaps in time: "Lord Tafiq," Mohammed said in a calm voice, but it broke the bickering. "The matter of the leadership of the Bani Hashim must be addressed- as Khadijah's heir, it is mine by point of law, but I know this is not a popular position. Do you dispute my right to lead our clan?"

Tafiq stopped, his mouth open, and stared in surprise at the merchant. Mohammed could see that he had never expected a bald challenge. Tafiq closed his mouth and his eyes narrowed, considering Mohammed. He tugged at his beard, thinking. "Master Mohammed," he began, but then there was a shout in the great hallway and a clattering sound. Mohammed glanced up to the doorway to the dining area, and barely caught- out of the corner of his eye- the blur of glittering metal that had sprung into Tafiq's hand. Mohammed flung himself to the side, bellowing a great shout of alarm. The knife caught his pant leg and tore through, taking a length of cloth with it. Mohammed rolled up, and his own long sword rasped out of its sheath. At his side, Uri had leapt back from the table and had drawn a short blade of his own.

There was a roar of shouting men outside, in the great expanse of the hallway, and Roxane- who had also leapt up in alarm- cried out, seeing something behind her. Mohammed paid no attention as old Tafiq had kicked the table over, sending a spray of glassware, platters, and lamb bones at him. Mohammed ducked aside, twisting away from the edge of the table as it crashed into the paper wall behind him. He sidestepped and lunged at the nobleman.

Steel flickered and rang, sparking from the edge of his blade. Tafiq bore in, his saber flashing in a blizzard of cuts and thrusts. Mohammed gave ground, shoving the other paper wall over with his shoulder to make fighting room. More shouts rang out, and the sound of men struggling came from the front of the house. Distantly, for Tafiq was a veritable dervish in his attack, Mohammed could hear his guards shouting for him. He parried an overhand cut, and his saber licked out at Tafiq's knee. The man skipped back and Mohammed rushed in, catching the Bani Hashim's sword guard on his own. Tafiq spit at his eye, but Mohammed turned his head in time and muscles bunched and corded in his shoulders. He gave a mighty heave and Tafiq crashed through the light wooden panels of the opposite wall with a ripping sound.