Chapter 10 · Chapter 10

The steward had the door half open, and the cool of the courtyard was already moving in over the burned-out oud smoke, when Nasser spoke.

The room did not hear him the first time. A servant's voice in a majlis is a thing men's ears have been trained not to pick up.

"Ya ustadh."

My uncle turned with his cloak half gathered. "Later."

"No." Salman had not stood, and he had not raised his voice, and yet the men nearest the door stopped gathering themselves, and the steward took his hand off the handle and left the door standing half open, which was worse than shutting it. "He has been holding that dallah for an hour and he has not poured it. Let him speak."

Nasser set the dallah down on the tray with both hands, slowly, the way a man does a thing he has already decided about.

"I was in the corridor," he said. "Before midnight.