Ahmed reached out, put his hand over Eshe’s. “Tell me. I was a house boy, too.”

Eshe didn’t pull away. Leaned toward him instead. His head felt lovely, relaxed, as if it were bobbing in a warm sea. He thought of Isabet, and what life would be like with a wife and child. It wasn’t a family he wanted so much as a sense of belonging. He wanted to matter to someone.

“Who cares what they did to us? It’s what we do with it that matters. That’s what Nyx says.” He polished off his glass. As he went to set it down, he nearly missed the table. Best to pace myself, he thought, but it was a faraway notion, like listening to someone else calling to him from across a wide gully.

“I think Nyx is going to grind us all up out here,” Ahmed said. “The same way our house mothers did.”

“It’s not like that. Nyx isn’t like that.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Nyx doesn’t fuck me and whore me out. How’s that?”

Ahmed pulled his hand away. Eshe grimaced.

“Sorry,” Ahmed said.

“Everybody’s always sorry. But it doesn’t change anything, does it?” Eshe said. The look on Ahmed’s face made him feel bad, so he reached out, took Ahmed’s elbow. “You really don’t get it. You think she’s some kind of fucking monster. But Nyx I get. As long as you’re useful to her, you’re safe. And she’ll protect you. What woman in your life ever protected you?”

“Women said I had a pretty face,” Ahmed said. “Fucking some squad commanders protected me at the front.”

“Nyx isn’t like that.”

“You just have to die for her, then?”

“You don’t get it.” Eshe released him. He tried to stand, but the table moved from under him. He sat back down, hard. “Everybody betrays you. It’s just a matter of when.”

Ahmed leaned toward him, so close Eshe could smell the liquor on his breath. Ahmed patted his cheek with his warm hand. The touch lingered. He stroked Eshe’s brow. “I’m sorry. You’re a good kid. I’m just worried that you’re with her. I don’t think anything good will come of it.”

Ahmed kissed him softly on the mouth.

Eshe pulled away, disoriented. “We should go. I have to take a piss.”

“I could have been a powerful magician,” Ahmed said. “Could have trained for it. I had the talent. But I didn’t want to be a weapon. Instead, I hacked off men’s arms and poured blood worms into women’s eyes.” He snorted; it sounded something like a laugh.

“We do what we have to do to stay alive,” Eshe said.

“How much longer do we have, I wonder?” Ahmed said.

“Let’s go.”