Saliri answered the door while Jora pulled his clothes on himself. There was a man at the door who spoke in a formal tone. Jora tiptoed to the bedroom door and listened, holding back his breath.

“Madam… I’m sorry to inform you… your husband has been found dead.”

Saliri gasped, her hand flying over her mouth, tears rolling down her face. Panic flooded over Jora. He muttered an elaborate curse under his breath as he cracked the narrow window open. This one opened to the narrow alley by the building. From behind him, he heard the officer mention something about a murder, and a weapon, but he couldn’t make out the details.

He glanced down. There was nobody in sight. He eased himself over the sill and held onto the lantern post. The post creaked under his weight. He dropped down, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. He wrapped his shawl over his face and left the alley like a ghost.

His heart raced faster than his mind did. He did not notice the figure standing on the corner.

“Ay, Jora!” the man called.

Jora spun around on his heel, relief washing over him like a wave when he saw Marji’s face.

“Jumpy, are you?” Marji teased, but his tense expression betrayed his mood. Jora did not answer. He walked fast, taking the smaller streets.

“Listen, Jora,” Marji started, trying to keep up with his friend, “I suppose you already know, but they found Zyandir Amma murdered by the slave market.”

Jora’s head snapped back, his eyes flashing. “Slave market?”

Marji nodded. “A merchant found his body in front of a whorehouse.”

Jora muttered a ‘fuck’ to himself, his steps slowing as they reached the market streets.

“Listen, I have to ask. Did you have anything to do with it?” Marji’s question cut like a blade.

“Why would you think that?” Jora asked, offended.

Marji sidestepped a peddler’s cart, missing it by a breath, as he almost pulled it over his foot. He spoke in a hushed voice when he caught up with Jora again.

“Come on. You’ve been fucking his wife for gods know how long.”

“Exactly!” Jora exhaled, spreading his hands as if this would explain everything. “I’m not that stupid. Besides, she’s not the only woman in town.”

Marji hummed. He didn’t really think Jora would do something that idiotic. But he had to ask.

“There’s another problem,” he went on. Jora looked at him with a frown.

“Do you remember that ornate blade you bought a while ago? What happened to it? Do you still have it?” Marji’s voice was hushed even in the noise of the market. But one could never know where and when someone was listening.

“What? No!” Jora said, “I sold that blade… what, half a year ago! Why, what does that have to do with it?”

“It was sticking out of Zyandir Amma’s chest, that’s what.”