Thieves World 01 – Thieves World by Asprin, Robert

safe with you, then.’ The eunuch nodded and tucked away the krrf, then retrieved

the broadsword. ‘Safe with anyone not a stranger.’ Everyone in the Maze knew of

the curse that One-Thumb expensively maintained to protect his life: if he were

killed, his murderer would never die, but live forever in helpless agony:

Burn as the stars burn;

Burn on after they die.

Never to the peace of ashes.

Out of sight and succour

From men or gods or ghost:

To the ends of time, burn.

One-Thumb himself suspected that the spell would only be effective for as long

as the sorcerer who cast it lived, but that was immaterial. The reputation of

the sorcerer, Mizraith, as well as the severity of the spell, kept blades in

sheaths and poison out of his food.

‘I’ll pass the message on. Many thanks.’

‘Better mix it with snuff, you know. Very strong.’ One-Thumb parted a velvet

curtain and passed through the foyer, exchanging greetings with some of the

women who lounged there in soft veils (the cut and colour of the veils

advertised price, and in some cases, curious specialties), and stepped out into

the waning light of the end of day.

The afternoon had been an interesting array of sensations for a man whose nose

was as refined as it was large. First the banquet, with all its aromatic Twand

delicacies, then the good rare wine with a delicate tang of half-poison, then

the astringent krrf sting, the rich charnel smell of butchery, the musty sweat

of the tunnel’s rock walls, perfume and incense in the foyer, and now the

familiar stink of the street. As he walked through the gate into the city