Eastern nights are usually sweet. Golden dust settles on the cobblestones at night, like confectioner's powder on glossy chocolate tiles. It settles in an even layer on each square and paves the way for travelers. Akor knew every street in this city and all the secrets of its houses. He knew where the ancient masters of cold weapons lived. He knew where beautiful women wove carpets while whispering prayers. He also knew the streets where it was not worth going, even with him as a guide. He knew all this, but he only took tourists and travelers to the sweet spots to show them the intoxicating charm of his beloved city, its caramel sweetness.

These were streets with bars. Streets with coffee. Streets where the smell of desserts hung between the buildings so thickly that it seemed as if confectioners were working somewhere on the pavement. These streets were so sweet and open, as if you were cutting open a chocolate candy bar and liqueur was flowing out of it. There was no danger here, but bodies became intoxicated, relaxed. You could feel it even through the long, conservative, modest clothing of women and men.