“That’s the safest route,” said J’An. “But slavery’s forbidden in Abu Nekhele. You’ll need a man you can trust like a brother, one with a strong reason not to turn on you and seize his freedom.”

J’An fell silent, considering the boy’s problem. If he’d been entirely sober, he might have marched Jebel back to his father. But wine has a way of making men act like boys, so J’An found himself taking the quest seriously.

“Tel Hesani,” he said eventually.

“A slave?” Jebel asked.

“The finest I’ve ever known,” J’An said, dragging Jebel to his feet. “His father was Um Rashrasha, a trader who spent most of his time in Abu Kheshabah, where Tel was born. Tel’s father had three wives already when he met Tel’s mother, the maximum allowed by his people, so he could only keep her as a mistress. She was his favorite, and he raised Tel the same way as he would have a legitimate son. His wives were jealous of the pair. When Tel’s father died, his widows sold Tel and his mother to slavers. They were bought by different owners, and he never saw her again. He has spent the rest of his life as a slave, but he is a noble and just man, a credit to the memory of his father.

“I traveled with Tel several years ago,” J’An said, guiding Jebel through the muddy streets. “He saved my life in Abu Safafaha. I bought him and his family upon our return and petitioned the high lord for his freedom.”

J’An sighed. “I have more enemies than friends in Wadi. I’ve offended a lot of powerful people in my time. They haven’t been able to have me executed yet, but they conspire against me whenever they can. Since I spend so much of my life on the road or seas, those opportunities are few and far between. One of their chances to spite me came when I asked the high lord to free Tel Hesani and his family. My enemies convinced him to deny my request and to revoke my right of ownership — they cooked up some charge about me swindling Tel’s original owner. The family was sold off to one of my foes.