Sanctuary!’
The voice of Haakon, the vendor, reached through the cloth-hung doorway. Illyra
finished her toilette quickly. Dark masses of curly hair were secured with one
pin under a purple silk scarf which contrasted garishly with each of the skirts,
the shawl, and the blouse she wore. She reached deep within those skirts for her
purse and removed a copper coin.
It was still early enough in the day that she might venture outside their home.
Everyone in the bazaar knew she was scarce more than a girl, and there would be
no city-folk wandering about for another hour, at least.
‘Haakon! Over here!’ She called from under theCanopy where Dubro kept his tools.
‘Two … no, three, please.’
He lifted three of the sticky treats on to a shell that she held out for them,
accepting her copper coin with a smile. In an hour’s time, Haakon would want
five of the same coin for such a purchase, but the bazaar-folk sold the best to
each other for less.
She ate one, but offered the other two to Dubro. She would have kissed him, but
the smith shrank back from public affection, preferring privacy for all things
which pass between a man and woman. He smiled and accepted them wordlessly. The
big man seldom spoke; words came slowly to him. He mended the metal wares of the
bazaar-folk, improving many as he did so. He had protected Illyra since she’d
been an orphaned child wandering the stalls, turned out by her own people for
the irredeemable crime of being a half-caste. Bright-eyed, quick-tongued Illyra
spoke for him now whenever anything needed to be said, and in turn, he still