Chapter 36 · Untitled Chapter

The quiet click of Saud’s cup meeting the silver tray resonated through the vast hall, settling over the assembly like the fall of a heavy curtain. Across the carpets, Ammi Salman remained rigid, his hands braced upon his knees as though the foundations of his authority were straining beneath him.

The elders of my birth house sat motionless, waiting for the master of the house to arbitrate what they still imagined to be a dispute between clans.

Saud did not look toward them. His gaze stayed fixed upon the middle distance, calm and untouched by their mounting agitation, wrapped in the cold stillness of his heba. Slowly, he lifted his right hand from the carved arm of his seat, a single measured gesture directed toward the corridor.

The steward, who had stood waiting in silent vigilance near the threshold, stepped forward onto the wool carpets with the heavy silver dallah held aloft in his left hand, fresh finjans balanced in his right. The aromatic warmth of roasted beans and sharp cardamom preceded him, slicing cleanly through the lingering smoke of the oud.

Protocol in this room was older than living memory.