showing often in readings these days, with the newcomers in town. I have ears,
Illyra, as I have eyes. An old man listens and watches, enough not to be fooled
by one who walks younger than her makeup and dress would lead most to believe.’
Illyra frowned. ‘Such observations could cost me dearly, old one.’
‘Thou art wise, mistress. Wise enough to know the value of silence, as a hungry
tongue talks more freely.’
‘Very well, Hakiem,’ the fortune-teller laughed, slipping a coin into his
outstretched palm. ‘Dull your ears, eyes and tongue with breakfast at my expense
… and perhaps a cup of wine to toast the Face of Chaos.’
‘A moment, mistress,’ the storyteller called as she turned to go-‘A mistake!
This is silver.’
‘Your eyes are as keen as ever, you old devil. Take the extra as a reward for
courage. I’ve heard what you have to do to gather the stories you can tell!’
Hakiem slid the coin into the pouch belted within his tunic and heard the
satisfying clink as it joined the others secreted there. These days he extorted
breakfast money more out of habit than need. Purses were growing fat in
Sanctuary with the influx of wealth brought by the newcomers. Even extortion was
growing easier, as people became less tightfisted. Some, like Illyra, seemed
almost eager to give it away. Already, this morning, he had collected enough for
ten breakfasts without exerting the effort hitherto required to obtain enough
for one. After decades of decay. Sanctuary was coming to life again with the
influx of wealth brought by the Beysib troops. Their military strength was far