'The Face of Chaos will laugh at us all before the cycle completes its turn!'

The words were barely audible above the din of the bazaar, but they caught theear of Illyra, stopping her in her tracks. Ignoring her husband's puzzledglance, she made her way into the crowds in search of the source of the voice.Though only half S'danzo, the cards were still her trade and she owed it to herclan to discover any intruders into their secrets.

A yellow-toothed smile flashed at her out of deep shadow, beside a stand.Peering closely, she recognized Hakiem, Sanctuary's oldest and most notedstoryteller, squatting in the shelter, away from the morning sun's bright glare.

'Good morning, old one,' she said coolly, 'and what does a storyteller know ofthe cards?'

'Too little to try to earn a living reading them,' Hakiem replied, scratchinghimself idly, 'but much for one untrained in interpreting their messages.'

'You spoke of the Face of Chaos. Don't tell me you've finally paid for areading?'

'Not at my age.' The storyteller waved. 'I'd prefer that the events of thefuture come as surprises. But I have eyes enough to know that that card meansgreat change and upheaval. It requires no special sight to realize it must beshowing 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 fooledby 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 hungrytongue talks more freely.'

'Very well, Hakiem,' the fortune-teller laughed, slipping a coin into his