“Jebel has been shamed,” J’An said. “He quests to redeem his honor.”

“Then I wish you luck,” Tel Hesani said, putting his hands together.

“He’ll need more than luck,” J’An snorted. “The road to Tubaygat is lined with hardships. Virtually all questers die on the way or return defeated.”

“I don’t understand,” Tel Hesani said. “Surely you just sail up the as-Sudat to the base of the al-Meata and climb from there?”

“That wouldn’t be much of a quest,” J’An laughed. “Questers are forbidden the use of any river. They must quest on foot.”

Tel Hesani smiled wryly. “Your people are cruel but inventive.”

“How dare you!” Jebel shouted, unable to restrain himself any longer. “You’ve insulted the Um Aineh! I’ll have you executed!” He tried to get up, but J’An laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down.

“You must learn to control your temper,” J’An said lightly.

“But he insulted us!”

“Only a mild insult. And he has a point.”

“He’s a slave!”

“Yes. But this is his home. We are guests here. He has the right to voice his opinion in this room. Our laws allow for those few privileges at least.”

“But he’s a slave,” Jebel said again. “He has no rights.”

“In my view he does,” J’An said, and there was steel in his tone now. “As your elder, I expect you to bow to me on this.”

Jebel stared sullenly at the older man, then dropped his gaze and placed the palm of his left hand on his forehead. “I beg pardon,” he muttered.

“Granted,” J’An said, then faced Tel Hesani again. “We’re more inventive than you think. It’s not enough for the quester to make his way to Tubaygat. To petition Sabbah Eid, he must make a human sacrifice. Sometimes a friend will travel with him to offer himself up — the victims are guaranteed an afterlife and a prominent place by the side of their favored god. But usually it’s a slave.”