“I’ll bet you do,” Shim said, but he went ahead and deposited the coins into her palm. The woman, Saman Ji, performed the same quick maneuver as before, and soon her hand appeared empty once more, like she’d had a tough day begging on the streets. Soraya wondered whether she’d jingle and jangle like a tambourine when she stood. Probably not. This woman was no amateur. She probably had a system—folds of cloth perhaps—to separate the coins so they wouldn’t clink and clank against each other.

“Who’s the girl?” Ji asked.

“We ask the questions,” Shim said.

“So it’s scandalous then.” The woman snickered at her own attempt at wit.

“Not as scandalous as Old Saman Ji being robbed by a hulking stranger as she begged in Seer,” Shim growled.

All mirth fell from the woman’s face at the threat. “Ask yer questions. Yer scaring my business away.”

She wasn’t lying. Soraya had noticed several townsfolk who’d been about to walk by take one good look at Shim and then divert their course.

A scream tore through the chaos, silencing the crowd. Soraya’s eyes caught something dark tumbling from above, and then there was a heavy thump. She raised a hand to her mouth, shocked and horrified. It was a body, a man by the look of it. “He fell?” she said absently.

Of all things to do, the old woman cackled. “Didn’t like what the winds told him, I’d say. It happens from time to time. Folks come here hopin’ to be told of their future fortunes, only to learn of their future failures and sorrow. Decide they’d rather not live to see any of it.”

“He jumped?” Feeling slightly queasy, Soraya watched as the idle men she’d seen lounging before snapped into motion, maneuvering their cart over to the corpse and then manhandling him into the back. And then they were gone, off to…do whatever they did with dead people. Bury them or burn them, most likely. Was that really their job? Collectors of the dead?

As soon as they were gone, the square’s activity resumed in full. It was as though someone hadn’t just fallen from the sky to their death. How often did this happen? Weekly? Daily? Multiple times a day? Enough to have a regular crew at the ready to remove the dead. Soraya swallowed down the thought. “Not everyone is cut out for this life,” Shim murmured.

“Survival is about creatin’ one’s own fortunes, not expectin’ ’em to be handed to ye ’cause of somethin’ the wind tells ye,” Saman said, crossing her arms as though signaling the end to the discussion. It seemed others had arrived at the same conclusion; no fewer than six people who’d been steadily climbing the staircase were now picking their way down without ever having reached the top, their faces looking pale and gaunt.