"It can't be a very bad wound."
Nicetas closed his eyes. "Bad enough that he could use me for his pleasure and I could not fight him off."
A dizzying blackness blinded Daoud. His skull felt as if it were going to burst.
"By God and the Prophet, I will kill him."
"I want you to."
"Did he do any more to hurt you?"
"Yes, he got me here." He parted his hands and raised them from his stomach. His white cotton robe was caked with black blood, and there was a tear in the center. The wound was not wide, but Daoud knew that it must be very deep.
"He made sure to use his rumh, you see."
"Because that was how you beat him."
Daoud wanted only to hold Nicetas and cry, but he sensed that what would most comfort the Greek boy would be talking about what happened to him.