Entwined with Kiri, pressed close to him, Karim dragged in breath in a surprised exclamation to learn their old master was dead.<br/><br/>"No, who I am is no one, to him," Karim said, shaking his head. "You know how it is. Siring a slave is not the same thing as having a son. He made me, but to him, he wasn't my father. He would never have considered me that. He kept me to keep my mother happy. Without her I was superfluous."<br/><br/>He sighed.<br/><br/>"Thank you for telling me. I've hated him somewhat over the years. I think I can put that hatred to rest, now."<br/><br/>"A doctor! And a freedman. I'm so proud of you, Kiri." His voice was warm. He was pleased. He'd worried about Kiri, he'd thought of him, hoped his situation was better than Karim's. It was good to know it had been. Karim looked around, awed. Kiri must be rich as Midas to live in a place like this. "Your house is beautiful," he said shyly. "What do you like to eat, Kiri? I want to cook for you. I'll show you what I learned. Do you still like biryani rice best of all?"