"Come, stand beside us," she said, holding out a dainty hand. "We fear we willneed your advice in this next matter."

Hakiem bowed again and proceeded to her side with unhurried dignity. As hewalked he took secret delight in the jealous stares directed at him from theother courtiers. During his short time at court, the storyteller and the Empresshad developed a mutual respect for each other. More importantly, they found theyliked each other, a condition which had brought Hakiem favored treatment.Privately he suspected that his elevated status was not so much a compliment tohim as it was the Beysa's way of keeping her own clanfolk in line, but hereveled in the attention while he had it.

The next petitioners were ushered in and, dutifully, Hakiem directed hisattention to the problems at hand. He did not know the three Beysib in the groupsave they weren't clan Burek aristocrats and therefore must be Setmur fishermen.The townspeople he recognized at once as the pillars of Sanctuary's fishingcommunity: Terci, Omat, and the one everyone called the Old Man. Usuallycitizens of Sanctuary appeared at court in the company of Beysib clansmen whenone group or the other had a serious grievance to air, but this group radiatedno animosity at all.

"Greetings, Monkel Setmur, Clanchief," Shupansea intoned in the singsong pidginRankene which passed for a common dialect these days in the city. "Too long haveyou been absent from our presence. What matter have you brought before ustoday?"

The smallest, and perhaps the youngest, of the Beysib stepped nervously forward."Greetings, 0 Empress. We... we have come before you this auspicious day to seekyour favor and blessing on a project."

The Beysa nodded thoughtfully, though Hakiem glimpsed puzzlement in her manner.It was clear enough to him: requests for money sounded the same in any dialect."Tell us more, Clanchief," she requested.