The richly dressed slave-shop merchant stepped forward at last.
His silk robes trembled faintly as he moved, not from wind, but from the violent shaking of his limbs. Rings clinked against one another as his hands folded together, and sweat rolled down his temples despite the cooling air that still lingered from Diala's earlier punishment.
"I… I have an answer," he said.
Kiaria did not look at him immediately. His gaze remained on Mimi, as though measuring the weight of her wish rather than the words forming in the merchant's mouth.
"Speak," Kiaria replied at last, his tone calm and distant.
The merchant bowed deeply, nearly folding in half.
"Saving," he said quickly, "means removing pain. It means taking away suffering. A savior is the one who does that. So… saving is the act. A savior is the one who performs it."
A faint ripple passed through the crowd.
