Chapter 28 · Chapter 28

The messenger stood just beyond the threshold of the anteroom, his posture rigid beneath the shadow of the carved frame. He kept his eyes lowered to the dark stone floor, his hands clasped flat before his white thobe, unwilling to meet Marzouq’s gaze or glance toward where I stood in my black abaya.

Marzouq did not summon him inward. He picked up the folded paper, the three seals flaking between his fingers. Without haste, he walked toward the heavy brass mabkhara resting upon the low side table, where a fresh coal glowed vivid crimson beneath curls of rich oud smoke.

"Tell those who sent you that their names carry no weight past the courtyard gates," Marzouq said, his voice flat, completely devoid of heat.

He lowered the paper directly over the glowing coal.

The dry edge caught instantly. A thin line of orange crept across the stiff fiber, curling the sharp black ink of the petition into charred ribbon. Marzouq did not drop it into the bowl.