Baraq shook his head. "It was a woman. Dark hair, beads and jewels... I remember a cigarette holder. She called herself Ishtar. She helped me pull myself together when I was—sick." He closed his eyes, remembering the nausea and dizziness. "I wasn't in any decent state of mind, you understand, but at the end it was like something had... shifted. Like something important had broken? I don't know. Dreams." He took a steadying breath, wiped the worst of the grime off himself with a napkin while the man muttered.

The last question took him off guard. "Him? He seemed... young. Not an adult." He thought about the man's distraught face. "Is he your son?"