Munir was discussing his plans with Khalid when the girl entered the room. They came to a halt when they saw her, their gaze following her as she tripped over the excess fabric of the dress she was wearing. Her gaze was drawn to the entire room.

A replica of the last one, a high vaulted conical ceiling covered in blue handmade tiles, dropped down to a black marble floor. It encased a small wooden table in the centre of endless bookshelves that partially hid the fine patterns on the tiles; below them, an old, dusty armchair with a small wooden stool to its side. Mina marvelled at the site, losing track of her steps, her head nearly bumping into the empty seat in front.

Khalid tries to restrain his laugh, but his silent chuckles betray him. “Please sit down. I can see that you...” Munir gestures to the seat in front of her, "Please let the girl catch her breath.” Khalid jumps in. Her huge brown sunken eyes drop to the ground, ashamed, as she assumes the seat.

Khalid offers a cup of water, which she reluctantly gulps down every single drop. “Now we can talk; first of all, what are you wearing?” Khalid inquires, his arched brows collapsing into a furrow and a smile stretching across his features. “Leila gave it to me. She says it's outgrown her,” Mina glumly stated. “It doesn't suit you, can't you see?” A not so amused Munir complimented, ”What happened to the ones I recommended?” Mina looked at the oversized dress and then back to the person questioning her.

Mina wasn't about to give away her newly found friend, who had thought the clothes offered to her were 'inappropriate', as she had put it. I am truly sorry, master. I didn't mean to. Punish me as you wish, it's all my fault”. The girl was suddenly in tears amid sobs. She continuously apologized for her actions. ”Don't cry; it's okay; I won't punish you; just stop crying.” Munir was surprised by the reaction. He had dealt with many slaves; every time he saw the fear and frailty in their eyes, his heart ached.

Their emotional and, at times, mental instability made him hate the people responsible. It was a marvel how they would invent artistic lies and punishments for these poor people. With the law at the forefront, it was hard to stop it. This girl was one of the victims of a culture he so despised. Which came from the long-gone conquerors, who brought many vices to the kingdom. He felt sorry for this girl, who, like every other slave child, lost her innocence to the cruelty of the world.

Most of them eventually end up dead, either murdered or committing suicide. It was for these precise reasons that he started the rebellion: to fight for these helpless people. Eventually, she stopped crying, but the apologetic expression never left her face. "We have called you here to help you, not punish you,” Khalid added, passing her another cup of water. When she appeared calm enough, they continued their conversation.

"Please, can you tell us where you are from?”

“How did you get in that basket?”

“Who do you belong to?”

“Why did you come to Mahdiya?”

Munir asked questions continuously, but they hung in the air for a while. Mina weighed her options, not knowing whether to trust this new master; after all, he was but a stranger to her. Who knows the lengths they were willing to go to get answers? She was frightened of how their starless eyes bore into her with curiosity.

“My town has many people and a big well, where I used to play with the other slave children while fetching water for my mistress.”

“What was the name of the town?” Munir interrupted

“I don't know,” but in her mind, the name flashes brightly in bold letters, "Haldin."

“Is there anything else in that town like a wazir?” He continues to ask, all the while reading her uncomfortable expressions. “I don't know.” Of course, there was a wazir in her town. Her response was not all a lie as she only heard people complain about him; he was taking more taxes than required but had no pleasure in making his acquaintance.

“This mistress, what was her name?” Munir's patience was wearing thin with the dead ends he was hitting with every question.

“Ummm...”

“Go on, tell us,” he encourages her hopefully.

“I think it's a mistress.” Munir shook his head, disappointed with the answers. He gave up. Meanwhile, a quiet Khalid realizes his impatience and chips in. “This mistress you talk of, did she live with anyone else in the house?”

“I don't know, please, believe me, she always locks me up in a room and I will only be allowed to run errands.” Mina pleads with the only true statement she could give.

That didn't deter his course. “When you were playing, didn't you hear anything from the other children?”

“I don't know.”

“These children, can you tell me their names?” She hesitated for a while before answering. She had no friends, just bullies, whom she never bothered to learn their names.

“Ali” is the name of a drunk man she once helped treat after a fight in the tavern, and "Anissa" was the only other name she knew that wasn't linked to her. Khalid looks at her thoughtfully and then leans toward Munir. "Do we trust her? She is a liar and not a very good one, it seems. Khalid whispers to him. “We must have faith. We need her to cooperate.” Munir talks back in a hushed tone, his eyes studying the girl in front of them. Like a cat in the rain, she sat there fiddling with her hands.

Khalid sighs. “We appreciate that you have trusted us with the information; now listen! As you can tell, you are sick...

“No, I feel better now! I can stand and walk; I am not sick. ” Mina protests.

I am the physician here; I say if you are sick or not. Besides, with that strength, you can't afford to work. ” Munir imposed impatiently. "Sorry, master," Mina apologized. “You are very stupid. Haven't you seen yourself in a mirror lately?" Khalid mocks.

“Sorry, master.”

“Master," he huffs, then continues. “Don't call us your masters. I'm Khalid and this is Munir." “Sorry, Khalid,” Mina stammers, but Khalid ignores her. "Anyway, the king will summon you to court anytime soon." So we want you to lock your ignorance away. You must insist that you recover first, before being handed over to the slave traders. Is that clear? ” Mina was so confused at the time, but in fear of angering them, she just nodded politely. She thought they were crazy. Was she ignorant? If that was the case, how was she going to conceal it? These people claim that she is sick, although she has never felt better, now that she is far away from Mama Samira. Her stretched skin, bony nature, and goggling eyes never bothered her. She liked the way she was. Even Mama Samira never seemed to mind it at all; in fact, she thought it suited her.

"Well-child, since you feel better, how about Khalid shows you around my quarters after you have changed into something comfortable, that is,” Munir suggested, having noticed the girl's amazement. “Thank you.” Mina's face lit up with excitement. She could not wait to discover more of the magnificent place. “But sir, I have to check up on my patients. I did promise to when I came back.” Khalid complains, “Surely you can make a compromise for our guest." Munir stands from the table and takes his leave, his emerald caftan trailing behind, its silver edges shining against the black marble.

He barely took two steps when the largest door in the room burst open. Two guards barged in, “Munir sir," and they crossed their hands and beat their chests, banging their metal vests in what seemed to be a salute. "The child is to be presented to Malik's court. She is to be judged for her crimes.” The words came through as a command more than a statement. "Take her," Munir says disinterestedly as one of them grabs Mina. The two marched out, carrying the girl with them, Munir following behind. Mina went without posing any struggle. All the while, Khalid tugged along, eager to see what would happen to her.