J’An and J’Al knew all of this, yet they remained on the platform, mopping up blood, acting as if this was an ordinary day. In a year the pair would stand against each other in the fierce tournament of the mukhayret and fight as rivals with the rest of the would-be executioners. If one of them triumphed, his life would be changed forever, and almost unlimited power would be his for the taking. But until then they were determined to carry on as normal, as their father had taught them.

Near the front of the crowd, Debbat Alg gazed at J’An and J’Al with calculating eyes. On the day of the mukhayret, the winner could choose any maid in Wadi to be his wife. More often than not, the new executioner selected a maid from the high family, to confirm his approval of the high lord, so it was likely that one of the brothers would choose her. She was trying to decide which she preferred the look of so that she could pick one to cheer for. J’An had a long, wide nose and thick lips that made many a maid’s knees tremble. J’Al was sleeker, his hair cut tight to complement the shape of his head, with narrow but piercing eyes. The inside of J’An’s right ear had been intricately tattooed, while J’Al wore a studded piece of wood through the flesh above his left eye. Both brothers were handsome and up to date with the latest fashions. It was going to be difficult to choose.

Beside Debbat, Bastina also stared at J’An and J’Al, but sadly. She was thinking of all the heads the new executioner would lop off, all the lives he’d take. The Rum brothers had been kind to her over the years. She didn’t like to think of one of them with all that blood on his hands.

And beside Bastina, Jebel stared too. But he wasn’t thinking of his brothers, the mukhayret tournament, or even Debbat Alg. He only had thoughts for his father’s words, the horrible way he had been overlooked, and the dark cloud under which he must now live out the rest of his miserable, shameful years.