Thieves World 3 – Shadows of Sanctuary by Asprin, Robert

been strangled to death. Or come so close that the difference wasn’t worth

considering -save that he was alive, which was absolutely all the difference

that mattered.

After a long measured while of standing frozen, listening, staring in effort to

make his eyes see, he moved. He heard nothing. No groan, no movement, no rain.

The moon was back. It was not in line with the window, but it was up there and a

little light sneaked in to aid a thief.

He found a wall, a jamb. Squatted, then went lower, wincing at rearward pain, to

ensure that no light showed under the door. The latch was a simple press-down

hook. He took his time depressing it. He took more time in slowly, slowly

pulling open the door. It revealed a corridor or short hall.

While he wondered whether to go right or leftward, that ghastly sound of agony

came again. This time a pulpy mumble underlay the moaning groan, and once again

Hanse felt the icy, antsy touch of gooseflesh.

The sound came from his right. He slipped his knife back into its sheath, patted

other sheathed knives, and undid the thong at his belt to get the bag off. That

hurt, as a shard of pottery emerged from his clothing, and him. That hand he

moved very slowly, mindful of the clink of broken pottery. He squinted before he

glanced back, because he did not want his enlarged pupils to shrink.

The window showed a pretty night, small-mooned but dark of sky, without clouds

or rain. Without even knowing that the rain had been confined to Kurd’s grounds,

Shadowspawn shivered. Did gods exist? Did gods help?