“Are you mad?” Jebel burst out. “Tell him he made a mistake? He’d whip me till I dropped! It’s bad enough as it is — I’ll end up a damn teacher or judge. But if I whine like a girl, he’ll send me off to do women’s work.”

“I was only trying to help,” Bastina said.

“How can an ugly little troll like you help?” Jebel sneered.

“At least I’m not a runt!” Bastina shouted, and instantly regretted it.

Jebel’s lips trembled. For a moment he thought about strangling Bastina — he’d be executed if he did, and all his worries would be behind him — but then he came to his senses and he slumped to the ground.

“I’m ruined, Bas,” Jebel groaned. “I can’t live like this. Every day I’ll be reminded of what my father said, the way he disgraced me. I dreamt of proving myself in the regiments, of maybe even serving the high lord, but no one will want me now.”

Tears welled up in Bastina’s eyes. She crouched beside Jebel and took his hand. “You can’t think like that. A warrior’s life isn’t for everyone. You have to make the best of what you have.”

Jebel didn’t hear her. He was thinking. “Maybe I’ll enter the mukhayret,” he muttered. “I can’t win, but if I made it past the first few rounds…”

“No,” Bastina said, squeezing his hand. “You can’t compete against the likes of J’An and J’Al. People would mock you. It would make things worse.”

“I might surprise them,” Jebel persisted. “Maybe make it to the last eight. If I did, my father would be proud of me.”

Bastina shook her head. “Only the strongest enter the mukhayret. People will sneer and make fun of you if you put yourself forward as a genuine contender.”

“Not if I made it to the last eight,” Jebel said stubbornly.

“But you wouldn’t!” Bastina lost her temper with her foolish friend. “You’d be crushed in the first round, humiliated in front of the whole city. You’re not a warrior, Jebel, and even Sabbah Eid couldn’t turn you into…”