the valide snapped; but she shifted a little uneasily on the divan.The egg rolled across the surface of the oil.The soothsayer drew a sharp breath. “I see … blood.”“Your eggs are not fresh enough,” the valide sniffed.“But it is not your blood, valide efendi,” the soothsayer replied, comfortably; then, in a rapid singsong voice, she began to recite: “This is mine eye, the eye of fate, the eye of seeing. See all, break our bread, show all, and the first shall be last. Three of three is ninety-nine And these are the names by which we ask our way.”She passed a hand across the plate and settled back on her heels.“Well?”“I cannot see until it is over.” As if to prove her point, the egg yolk slipped to the edge of the plate. “Ah.” She studied the plate for a few moments. “There is change, but nothing for you to fear. Someone else arranges it. Not a woman. Nor a man?”“A eunuch, évidemment. Everything around me is in the hands of such people.”“You have not traveled recently, hanum?”“Tiens!
