Thieves World 3 – Shadows of Sanctuary by Asprin, Robert

the dome and the crenellations of a wall. After thirty-one paces he heard the

scuffing footsteps and tap-tapping pikestaff butt of a careless sentry. That

persuaded him to squat, get as close to the wall as he could, and lie down.

Flat, facing the wall, whose merlons rose above the gallery. He lay perfectly

still, a shadow in shadow.

A spider wandered over his shoulder and up his cheek and began struggling in his

black mop of hair, and was unmolested. The spider felt warmth, but no movement,

not so much as a twitch. (If mental curses could have effect, the spider was a

goner.)

The sentry ambled by, scuffing and tapping. The thief heard him yawn. Dumb, he

thought, dumb. How nice it was of sentries to pace and make noise, rather than

be still and listen!

The sentry having moved on leftward along the perimeter of the wall, the thief

moved on rightward; northwestward. He’d an armlet of leather and copper well up

his right upper arm, and a long bracer of black leather on that wrist. Each

contained a nasty leaf-bladed throwing knife of dull blue-black. There was

another in his left buskin, where sheath and hilt were mere decoration. He wore

no other weapons, none that showed. Certainly he bore neither sword nor axe, and

the bow lay at the base of the granary wall.

He stopped. Stepped into a crenel just above two feet deep. Stared, off into the

darkness. Yes. There was the spire of the Temple of Holy Allestina Ever Virgin,

poor thing. It was the first of the markers he had so carefully spotted and

chosen, this afternoon.