[ a quieter voice, like the vestiges of smoke. alhaitham, who does not believe that kaveh ought to dim the flame of his existence for anyone, merely sighs into his book. but he lets kaveh finish - this is something that is needed. for kaveh to speak his mind, for kaveh to figure out what he needs to do, for kaveh to find his bearing. one cannot survive solely on the flames of anger; one cannot live solely on the tears of regret. but one can find a balance in order to move forward. this, alhaitham does not only know in theory. he, too, understands the slaves beneath the high-vaulted ceilings of the ali qapu. it is sympathy, not empathy - but this, too, must be enough.

being asked for a favour is not surprising, not in the wake of the small revelation between the marble columns of alhaitham's room. ]

Am I a mouthpiece for the prince in my room, now? [ is what alhaitham says, ] Or did you forget how to speak to those of lower rank? Or have you finally accepted your status as a slave, and no longer feel worthy of speaking to servants? Which is it? Either way, your ability to use language seems unimpeded; the kitchen staff will be here in the morning with our breakfast. You may pass along your message then, if you still have the courage to do so.

[ because the only way to balance guilt is with fury. ]