Thieves World 01 – Thieves World by Asprin, Robert

almost average and he was rangy, wiry; swiftly wiry, with those bulgy rocks in

his biceps and calves that other males wished they had.

Shadowspawn. It was descriptive enough. No one knew where he’d been spawned,

which was shadowy, and he worked among shadows. Perhaps it was down in the

shadows of the ‘streets’ of Downwind and maybe it was over in Syr that he’d been

birthed. It didn’t matter. He belonged to Sanctuary and wished it belonged to

him. He acted as if it did. If he knew or suspected that he’d come out of

Downwind, he was sure he had risen above it. He just didn’t have time for those

street-gangs of which surely he’d have been chieftain.

He was no more sure of his age than anyone else. He might have lived a score of

years. It might have been fewer. Had a creditable moustache before he was

fifteen.

The raven-wing hair, tending to an indecisive curl, covered his ears without

reaching his shoulders. He’d an earring under that hair, on the left. Few knew

it. Had it done at fourteen, to impress her who took his virginity that year.

(She was twoscore-and-two then, married to a man like a building stone with a

belly. She’s a hag with a belly out to here, now.)

‘The lashes under those thick glossy brows of his are so black and thick they

look almost kohled, like a woman’s or a priest over in Yenized,’ a man called

Weasel told Cusharlain, in the Vulgar Unicorn. ‘Some fool made that remark once,

in his presence. The fellow wears the scar still and knows he’s lucky to be

wearing tongue and life. Should have known that a bravo who wears two .throwing