Robert Asprin – Thieves World 09 – Blood Ties

In her nostrils was the rank smell of the White Foal in summer, carrying its carrion to the sea, and the perfume of night-blooming flowers of the occult sort that Ischade grew here.

And the smell of heated horse: Two were stamping, reins tied to Ischade’s gate, and one of those was Grit’s big black. She recognized it by the star and snip as it turned its head to whicker softly to the mount she rode.

The mare under her gave a belly-shaking acknowledgment and she realized that the horse she rode, and his, were lovers.

Hating herself for resenting even that, for her confusion and her doubts, she dismounted, trying not to think at all.

And walked up to the vampire-woman’s gate, and pushed it with a sweaty palm.

Perhaps she was meeting her doom here-Ischade had no reason to cut Kama the kind of slack she allowed Straton, and Crit because of their pairbond, and Kama’s father because of some bargain whose specifics Tempus had never revealed.

If Crit was in there, Kama wanted to see him. She focused on that and nothing else.

Love sucks, she told herself, and wondered what he’d say.

She’d knocked upon Ischade’s door, which was lit somehow, though no torch gleamed or candle flickered in its lamp, before she’d thought of an excuse to give. She could always say she needed to debrief.

If he was there. If it wasn’t a trap. If the necromant wasn’t into women this summer.

Then the door opened and a small and dusky figure stepped out, closing it behind her so that Kama was forced to retreat a pace, then take a step down the stoop’s stairs.