“Greetings,” J’An said, bowing his head as if speaking to an equal.

“Greetings,” Tel Hesani replied quietly.

Tel Hesani’s wife and children didn’t speak, and wouldn’t unless their visitor addressed them, as was the custom.

“Would you care for something to eat?” Tel Hesani asked as Jebel and J’An sat on the floor around the table.

“No, thank you,” said J’An.

Jebel was hungry — he hadn’t eaten since morning — but he was too proud to share a slave’s food, so he shook his head and tried to stop his stomach growling.

“I am glad to see you,” Tel Hesani said. “I had heard of your return to Wadi and hoped you would call to see us.”

“Don’t I always?” J’An said. “I meant to come last night, but I’ve been busy. I spent most of my last trip in the al-Breira, and there are precious few women on those mountains! I’ve been making up for lost time. I have presents for Murasa and the children, but I’ve not had time to unpack. I’ll bring them over soon.”

“You are too good to us, sir,” said Tel Hesani.

J’An frowned. “Why so formal?”

“Your companion…” Tel Hesani glanced at Jebel, then lowered his gaze.

J’An smiled. “Don’t worry. This is Jebel Rum, son of an old friend of mine — Rashed Rum, the executioner.”

“I didn’t know you had such highly placed friends,” Tel Hesani said, reaching for a piece of bread, looking more relaxed.

“I don’t have many,” J’An said. “But Rashed doesn’t worry about politics. He picks his own friends and, given his rank, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”