I held out a coin and
they shook their heads. "You are welcome to the drink," one of them
said. "All we have is at your service. Only please go. Go quickly."
They would not touch the coins I offered. I thrust the bird in my
pocket, swore and went. It was my second experience with being somehow
tabu, and I didn't like it.
It was dusk when I realized I was being followed.
At first it was a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, a head seen too
frequently for coincidence. It developed into a too-persistent footstep
in uneven rhythm.
Tap-_tap_-tap. Tap-_tap_-tap.
I had my skean handy, but I had a hunch this wasn't anything I could
settle with a skean. I ducked into a side street and waited.
Nothing.
I went on, laughing at my imagined fears.
Then, after a time, the soft, persistent footfall thudded behind me
again.
I cut across a thieves market, dodging from stall to stall, cursed by
old women selling hot fried goldfish, women in striped veils railing at
me in their chiming talk when I brushed their rolled rugs with hasty
feet.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177