'Well, then, what is your name?'

'I'd prefer not to say.'

'I must have some information if I'm to help you,' Illyra said as she scoopedthe coins into a worn piece of silk, taking care not to let her fingers touchthe gold.

'My ser ... There are those who tell me that you alone of the S'danzo can seethe near future. I must know what will happen to me tomorrow night.'

The question did not fulfil Illyra's curiosity or the promise of mystery, butshe reached for her deck of cards.

'You are familiar with these?' she asked the woman.

'Somewhat.'

'Then divide them into three piles and choose one card from each pile - thatwill show me your future.'

'For tomorrow night?'

'Assuredly. The answer is contained within the moment of the question. Take thecards.'

The veiled woman handled the cards fearfully. Her hands shook so badly that thethree piles were simply unsquared heaps. The woman was visibly reluctant totouch the cards again and gingerly overturned the top card of each rather thanhandle them again.

Lance of Flames.

The Archway.

Five of Ships, reversed.

Illyra drew her hands back from the velvet in alarm. The Five of Ships - thecard had been in her own hands not moments before. She did not rememberreplacing it in the deck. With a quivering foreknowledge that she would see apart of her own fate in the cards, Illyra opened her mind to receive the answer.And closed it almost at once.

Falling stones, curses, murder, a journey without return. None of the cards wasparticularly auspicious, but together they created an image of malice and deaththat was normally hidden from the living. The S'danzo never foretold death whenthey saw it, and though she was but half-S'darizo and shunned by them, Illyraabided by their codes and superstitions.

'It would be best to remain at home, especially tomorrow night. Stand back fromwalls which might have loose stones in them. Safety lies within yourself. Do notseek other advice - especially from the priests of the temples.'

Her visitor's reserve crumbled. She gasped, sobbed, and shook with unmistakableterror. But before Illyra could speak the words to calm her, the black-cladwoman dashed away, pulling the frayed rope from its anchorage.

'Come back!' Illyra called.

The woman turned while still under the canopy. Her shawl fell back to reveal afair-skinned blonde woman of a youthful and delicate beauty. A victim of aspurned lover? Or a jealous wife?

'If you had already seen your fate - then you should have asked a differentquestion, such as whether it can be changed,' she chided softly, guiding thewoman back into the incense-filled chamber.

'I thought if you saw differently ... But Molin Torchholder will

have his way. Even you have seen it.'

Molin Torchholder. Illyra recognized the name. He was the priestly templebuilder within the Rankan prince's entourage. She had another friend and patronliving within his household. Was this the woman of Cappen Varra's idylls? Hadthe minstrel finally overstepped himself?

'Why would the Rankan have his way with you?' she asked, prying gently.

'They have sought to build a temple for their gods.'

'But you are not a goddess, nor even Rankan. Such things should not concernyou.'

Illyra spoke lightly, but she knew, from the cards, that the priests sought heras part of some ritual - not in personal interest.

'My father is rich - proud and powerful among those of Sanctuary who have neveraccepted the fall of the Ilsig kingdom and will never accept the empire. Molinhas singled my father out. He has demanded our lands for his temple. When werefused, he forced the weaker men not to trade with us. But my father would notgive in. He believes the gods of Ilsig are stronger, but Molin has vowed revengerather than admit failure.'

'Perhaps your family will have to leave Sanctuary to escape this foreign priest,and your home be torn down to build their temple. But though the city may be allyou know, the world is large, and this place but a poor part of it.'

Illyra spoke with far more authority than she actually commanded. Since thedeath of her mother, she had left the bazaar itself only a handful of times andhad never left the city. The words were part of the S'danzo oratory Moonflowerhad taught her.

'My father and the others must leave, but not me. I'm to be part of MolinTorchholder's revenge. His men came once to my father's house. The Rankanoffered us my full bride-price, though he is married. Father refused the"honour". Molin's men beat him senseless and carried me screaming from thehouse.

'I fought with him when he came to me that night. He will not want another womanfor some time. But my father could not believe I had not been dishonoured. AndMolin said that if I would not yield to him, then no living man should have me.'

'Such are ever the words of scorned men,' Illyra added gently.

'No. It was a curse, /know this for certain. Their gods are strong enough toanswer when they call.

'Last night two of their Hell Hounds appeared at our estate to offer new termsto my father. A fair price for our land, safe conduct to Ilsig - but I am toremain behind. Tomorrow night they will consecrate the cornerstone of their newtemple with a virgin's death. I am to be under that stone when they lay it.'

Though Illyra was not specifically a truth-seer, the tale tied all the horrificvisions into a whole. It would take the gods to save this woman from the fateMolin Torchholder had waiting for her. It was no secret that the empire soughtto conquer the Ilsig gods as they had conquered their armies. If the Rankanpriest could curse a woman with unbreachable virginity, Illyra didn't thinkthere was much she could do.

The woman was still sobbing. There was no future in her patronage, but Illyrafelt sorry for her. She opened a little cabinet and shook a good-sized pinch ofwhite powder into a small liquid-filled vial.

'Tonight, before you retire, take this with a glass of wine.'

The woman clutched it tightly, though the fear did fade from her eyes.

'Do I owe you more for this?' she asked.

'No, it is the least I could do for you.'

There was enough of the cylantha powder to keep the woman asleep for three days.Perhaps Molin Torchholder would not want a sleeping virgin in his rite. If hedid not mind, the woman would not awaken to find out.

'I can give you much gold. I could bring you to Ilsig.'

Illyra shook her head.

'There is but one thing I wish - and you do not have it,' she whispered,surprised by the sudden impulsiveness of her words. 'Nor all the gold inSanctuary will find another anvil for Dubro.'

'I do not know this Dubro, but there is an anvil in my father's stables. It willnot return to Ilsig. It can be yours, if I'm alive to tell my father to give itto you.'

The impulsiveness cleared from Illyra's mind. There were reasons now to soothethe young woman's fears.

'It is a generous offer,' she replied. 'I shall see you then, three days henceat your father's home - if you will tell me where it is.'

And if you do, she added to herself, then it will not matter if you survive ornot.

'It is the estate called "Land's End", behind the temple of Ils, Himself.'

'Whom shall I ask for?'

'Manila.'

They stared at each other for a few moments, then the blonde woman made her wayinto the afternoon-crowded bazaar. Illyra knotted the rope across the entranceto her chambers with distracted intensity.

How many years - five at least - she had been answering the banal questions ofcity-folk who could not see anything for themselves. Never, in all that time,had she asked a question of a patron, or seen such a death, or one of her owncards in a reading. And in all the years of memory within the S'danzo communitywithin the bazaar, never had any of them crossed fates with the gods.