I passed following twenty-three hours much as I had the time before Etiar's visit; I gradually slowly lowered my body into a sleeping-position, and mocked sleep. I held my eyes closed and did not resist as my brain ran though its natural progression of thoughts, and my body its expulsions. But now every few hours, I thought of normal things, mundane things, like leaves of spinach or the diyyar on the bureau. They were fleeting thoughts, and they entered my mind for no more than a few seconds—just long enough for me to notice that there was no despair in them. And then they would depart once again, and I would find myself remembering how lonely and miserable I was, or recalling sights of Ma't's dead, battered body.
Etiar arrived at my home at about the same time the following day. There was no reason why I should have expected to see him there, but I thought little of it. He said hello to me and propped me up once again, forcing me to swallow a bit more stew. He had not said anything after his initial greeting, and I had yet to acknowledge him, and I felt as though I owed him a few words. So, after the two of us had remained together in silence for about five minutes, I remarked: "same as yesterday?"
The words probably sounded ungrateful, but I only meant them in a very matter-of-fact way. The soup was the same as it had been yesterday, and it was the only appropriate thing I could think to say to Etiar at that moment.
The grocer was clearly surprised, although it might merely because he had not expected to hear any words from me at all. "Yes, yes it is," he told me. "I hope I did not cause you to expect spinach. I would have made some, but that I do not have access to any at this time of year. You know that no green vegetables are available in Hihaythea in the winter."
Of course I knew this, but I was not concerned about the spinach to begin with. My prisons insulated me from desire of taste, so that I did not care what I ate or even whether I did or not. I did not have any opinion of his response, so I remained silent and did not move, as though he had not said anything at all.
A few more moments passed in silence, as Etiar sat on the bed and stared at the wall to my right, and I sat on the bed and stared at the wall directly before me. Then, Etiar spoke again. "Fe'n, in what place in the world would you most like to be right now?" He smiled at me.
This was an absurd question, and I refused to offer any verbal response. Of course it was Grontinion. However, in thinking the name of that place, I remembered my brother Yakko, and I was filled with grief once more. Who knows what had become of Yakko? But then I realized how foolish this was. If Yakko were connected to Grontinion, that could only be good for Yakko, for he would be entirely safe in that city. In Grontinion he was surrounded by friends and allies, by men of like mind. Grontinion was the safest place in the world for Yakko. If the two would be associated, it would be for the best. Yes, I imagined my only brother standing at the University Chapel, standing before a carving of the sinedratha, or the zanadrada as they called it there. How bold, that people in that country could display the lacking star that so proudly announced our new religious path! I had not seen a sinedratha in nearly a week, as I was not brave enough to display it within my home.
I believe that, as I thought these things, a slight smile crawled across my face. Etiar nodded and smiled as well. Then he patted me just above my right knee and stood up. "I shall see you tomorrow, Fe'n," he said. "Be well."
Just as the day before, the man collected his things and left my home, shutting the door behind him. When he was gone, I thought first of the the sinedratha at the University Chapel, then of the corpse into whose chest I had seen it carved three weeks ago, and then of the spinach leaves, and then of Ma't's blood-stained lips and chin.
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