“
Those are for auguring, dikri, for scrying futures,” wheedled a matronly looking being. She had wings pinioned to her back that were dull gold and edged in fire.
“I’m not interested,” I said, thinking of my own horoscope.
“What about a love charm, then?” persisted the owner, pushing a flower carved of pearl to me. “To awaken your lover’s interest,” she added with a wink.
At this, Amar walked to the table and slid the flower rather ungently back toward the owner.
“I am her husband. She needs no charm to hold my interest.
”
”