The old man staggered back his face an ashern grey, as though the effort of a few moments had taken a years hard labor from him. Brass tinkled as he sagged against a bench of age cracked teak. Tools tumbled from the table onto the timber floor with a clattering crash. Amira stepped around the still stunned Rhaak and approached the old man. With a slender hand she reached up and unfastened her veil and allowing the silvered fabric to hang free. The old man gasped and held up a trembling hand in weak protestation.

"Anhouri, please..." he begged in a rasping whisper. Implacably and without hurry she lay three fingers on his forehead and with her free hand reached into the old mans shirt and jerked. A cord of leather which hung around his neck snapped and came away in her hand, an odd bronze coin the size of a thumbnail still dangling from it by some surprisingly ornate knotwork.

"Salem," she said grimly and pressed forward slightly with the three fingers. The old man toppled and slumped to the floor, his head striking the wood with a hollow thump. His eyes were filmed with death and his tongue began to lol. Carefully she refastened her veil and turned to face Rhaak, slipping the coin into a fold in her garment.

"Now you must tell me what you saw."

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