Thieves World 3 – Shadows of Sanctuary by Asprin, Robert

called a knife, got his best two-handed grip, and struck with all his might.

Blood gushed and Hanse clamped his teeth against vomit. He had to strike again

to complete the job. Now only a torso lay on the table, and a shuddering

Shadowspawn clung to the weapon as he squinted around a chamber full of tables

and thoughtfully provided with graded runnels in the floor, for the carrying off

of blood.

‘Thales?’

Two groans replied. One of them ended with ‘help’, weak as a kitten. It was not

Tempus’s voice, but Hanse went to that table.

‘He – he – he’s cut off my right arm and… and three fingers of my-my 1-1-le

eft hannnd … just 10 … just to…’ An enormous bodyshaking shudder refused

to let the man finish.

‘You do not bleed. Your legs? Feet?’ Hanse was squinting without really wanting

to see.

‘I -I – they … there…’

‘Think,’ Shadowspawn said, swallowing hard. ‘I can cut these straps or your

throat. Think, and choose.’ He started to turn away.

‘I am … ali-i-ive … I can wa-a-alk…’

Hanse sliced off the man’s restraining straps. ‘I seek Tempus.’

‘You seek death here, thief!’ a voice said, and light flooded the chamber.

Hanse didn’t pause to reply or look to see who bore the light. He turned,

plucking forth a guardless knife like a leaf of steel, and threw. Only then did

he really look at the man in the doorway; throw once to disconcert, the second

time with aim. Lean and more than lean the man was, pallid skin taut. A man

in a voluminous nightshirt, a man to get a chill from a south wind in June. A