For the first time in over a decade, Hakiem found himself seriously consideringleaving his adopted home of Sanctuary.

Leaning out a window on one of the upper levels of the palace, he surveyed thetown below as he thought-yet even this depressed him. He had always enjoyedwalking the streets, first as a storyteller and later as advisor to the BeysibEmpress. The town had always had a rough vibrancy, like the rich organic smellof a swamp, and he drank it in along with the rumors to assure himself of thecity's survival. Now, however, he found that he rarely ventured down to thestreets to savor it.

Not that he was afraid for his safety, mind you. Whether it was due to his longstanding membership in the community, his well known neutrality andharmlessness, deference to his position as the Beysa's advisor, or a combinationof all of these factors, his passage through town was never challenged. Rather,he often hid within the palace shadows and corridors to spare himself theheartache of witnessing what was happening to his beloved Sanctuary.

The spirit of the town he knew had been born of parents named Poverty andDesperation. While he had cursed the crime and filth along with the rest of thecitizens, there had also been a secret pride in the inherent toughness ofSanctuary's inhabitants. Like the scrappy optimism of a bright-eyed gutterpredator, there had been a certainty that the town would survive regardless of