last dissolving wisps of Vashanka’s Weaponshop blurred away into the mists of
dawn.
SHADOW’S PAWN
By Andrew J. Offutt
She was more than attractive and she walked with head high in pride and
awareness of her womanhood. The bracelet on her bare arm flashed and seemed to
glow with that brightness the gods reserve for polished new gold. She should
have been walking amid bright lights illuminating the dancing waters of a
fountain, turning its sparkling into a million diamonds and, with the aid of a
bit of refraction, colourful other gemstones as well.
There was no fountain down here by the fish market, and the few lights were not
bright. She did not belong here. She was stupid to be here, walking unescorted
so late at night. She was stupid. Stupidity had its penalties; it did not pay.
Still, the watching thief appreciated the stupidity of others. It did pay; it
paid him. He made his living by it, by his own cleverness and the stupidity of
others. He was about to go to work. Even at the reduced price he would receive
from a changer, that serpent-carved bracelet would feed him well. It would keep
him, without the necessity of more such hard work as this damnable lurking,
waiting, for – oh, probably a month.
Though she was the sort of woman men looked upon with lust, the thief would not
have her. He did not see her that way. His lust was not carnal. The waiting
thief was no rapist. He was a businessman. He did not even like to kill, and he
seldom had to. She passed the doorway in whose shadows he lurked, on the north