I got off on Twenty, and the first thing I saw was a beefy, thick-necked woman in a white uniform sitting in the middle of a circular nurse’s station. There was a muscular man nearby too, dressed in a Eur-Am style security guard outfit. He had a huge seizure cannon bolstered on his hip, and he looked at me as if he were deciding whether or not to let me live.

“You’re a patient in this hospital,” said the nurse. Well, she was at least as bright as the elevator.

“Room 1540,” I said.

“This is the twentieth floor. What are you doing here?”

“I want to visit Friedlander Bey.”

“Just a moment.” She frowned and consulted her computer terminal. From her tone of voice, it was obvious she didn’t think anyone as scruffy as me could possibly be on her list of approved visitors. “Your name?”

“Marid Audran.”

“Well, here you are.” She glanced up at me. I thought maybe when she found my name on the list, she’d show a little grudging respect. No such luck. “Zain, show Mr. Audran to Suite One,” she told the guard.

Zain nodded. “Right this way, sir,” he said. I followed him down a lushly carpeted hallway, turned into a cross corridor, and stopped outside the door to Suite One.

I wasn’t surprised to see one of the Stones standing sentry duty. “Habib?” I said. I thought I saw his expression flicker just a bit. I pushed by him, half-expecting him to reach out his brawny arm to stop me, but he let me pass. I think both Stones accepted me now as Friedlander Bey’s deputy.

Inside the suite, the lights were turned off and the shades drawn on the windows. There were flowers everywhere, jammed into vases and growing from elaborate pots. The sweet fragrance was almost sickening; if it had been my room, I would have told a nurse to give some of the flowers to other sick people in the hospital.

Papa lay motionless in his bed. He didn’t look well. I knew he’d been burned as badly as I’d been, and his face and arms had been smeared with the same white gunk. His hair was neatly combed, but he hadn’t been shaved in a few days, probably because his skin was still too painful. He was awake, but his eyelids drooped. The Sonneine was knocking him out; he didn’t have my tolerance.

There was a second room adjoining, and I could see Youssef, Papa’s butler, and Tariq, his valet, sitting at a table playing cards. They started to get up, but I signaled that they should go on with their game. I sat in a chair beside Papa’s bed. “How do you feel, O Shaykh?” I said.

He opened his eyes, but I could see that it was difficult for him to stay awake. “I am being well cared for, my nephew,” he said.

That wasn’t what I’d asked, but I let it pass. “I pray every hour for your return to health.”

He attempted a weak smile. “It is good that you pray.” He paused to take a deep breath. “You risked your life to save me.”

I spread my hands. “I did what I had to.”

“And you suffered pain and injury on my account.”

“It is of small consequence. The important thing is that you are alive.”

“I owe you a great debt,” said the old man wearily.

I shook my head. “It was only what Allah decreed. I was but His servant.”

He frowned. Despite the Sonneine, he was still in discomfort. “When I am well, and we are both again at home, you must allow me to find a gift equal to your deed.”

Oh no, I thought, not another gift from Papa. “In the meantime,” I said, “how may I serve you?”

“Tell me: How did the fire start?”

“It was clumsily done, O Shaykh,” I said. “Immediately after we escaped, Kmuzu found matches and half-burnt rags soaked in some flammable fluid.”

Papa’s expression was grim, almost murderous. “I feared as much. Do you have any other clues? Whom do you suspect, O my nephew?”

“I know nothing more, but I will investigate the matter tirelessly when I leave the hospital.”

He seemed satisfied for the moment. “You must promise me one thing,” he said.

“What do you wish, O Shaykh?”

“When you learn the identity of the arsonist, he must die. We cannot appear weak to our enemies.”

Somehow I just knew he was going to say that. I was going to have to get a little pocket notebook just to keep track of everybody I was supposed to murder for him. “Yes,” I said, “he will die.” I didn’t promise that I, personally, would kill the son of a bitch. I mean, everybody dies. I thought I might turn the matter over to the Stones That Speak. They were like pet leopards; you had to take them off their leashes now and then and let them run around to catch their own meal.

“Good,” said Friedlander Bey. He let his eyes close.

“There are two more matters, O Shaykh,” I said hesitantly.

He looked at me again. His expression was agonized. “I am sorry, my nephew. I do not feel well. Even before the fire, I was suffering from some illness. The pain in my head and belly has grown worse.”

“Have the doctors here explained it?”

“No, they are fools. They tell me they can find nothing wrong. There are always more tests they wish to run. I am plagued by incompetence and tortured with indignity.”

“You must put yourself in their hands, my uncle,” I said. “I was treated very well in this hospital.”

“Yes, but you were not a frail old man, clinging hopelessly to life. Every one of their barbarous procedures robs me of another year of life.”

I smiled. “It’s not as bad as that, O Shaykh. Let them discover the cause of your ailment and cure it, and then soon you will be as strong as ever.”

Papa waved a hand impatiently, indicating that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “What are these other worries you will inflict on me?”

I had to approach both of them correctly. They were very sensitive matters. “The first concerns my servant, Kmuzu,” I said. “Even as I rescued you from the fire, Kmuzu rescued me. I promised him that I would ask you to reward him.”

“Why, of course, my son. He surely has earned a good reward.”

“I thought you might give him his freedom.”

Papa looked at me in silence, his expression empty. “No,” he said slowly, “it is not yet time. I will consider the circumstances, and decide on some other appropriate compensation.”

“But—” He stopped me with a single gesture. Even weakened as he was, the force of his personality would not permit me to press him further when he’d already made up his mind. “Yes, O Shaykh,” I said humbly. “The second matter concerns the widow and children of Jirji Shaknahyi, the police officer who was my partner. They are in desperate financial straits, and I wish to do more than merely offer them cash. I seek your permission to move them into our house, perhaps for only a little while.” Papa’s expression told me that he did not want to talk any longer. “You are my darling,” he said weakly. “Your decisions are my decisions. It is good.”

I bowed to him. “I will leave you to rest now. May Allah grant you peace and well-being.” “I will miss your presence, O my son.” I got up from my chair and glanced into the other room. Youssef and Tariq appeared to be engrossed in their card game, but I was sure they’d noted every word that had passed between Papa and me. As I headed for the door, Friedlander Bey began to snore. I tried to make no noise as I left the suite.

I went down in the elevator to my room, and climbed back into bed. I was glad to see that the liver lunch had been taken away. I’d just turned on the holoset again when Dr. Yeniknani came in to visit me. Dr. Yeniknani had assisted the neurosurgeon who’d amped my skull. He was a dark, fierce-looking Turk who was actually a student of Sufi mysticism. I’d gotten to know him pretty well during my last stay here, and I was glad to see him again. I looked up at the holoset and said “Off.”

“How are you feeling, Mr. Audran?” said Dr. Yeniknani. He came up next to my bed and smiled down at me. His strong teeth looked very white against his swarthy skin and his big, black mustache. “May I sit down?”