Daoud crossed the field, walking beside Mahmoud, wondering how his
khushdashiya, clustered together around what had been their goal, would
greet him.
_I have killed Kassar_, Daoud thought. _I have taken a life._ It was the
first time, and he felt glad and proud.
But he would gladly give up this proud moment to have Nicetas back. His
grief for Nicetas was sharp as ever, not at all eased by vengeance.
_Is it wrong to have done as I did and to feel this way?_