Thieves World 3 – Shadows of Sanctuary by Asprin, Robert

gatehouse wall. He ran until he reached the stable, until he stumbled over a

dead hawk-mask, and then he heard everything, cacophonously, that had been so

muted before: swords rasping; panoplies rattling; bodies thudding and greaved

men running; quarrels whispering bright death as they passed through the dark

press; javelins ringing as they struck helm or shield suddenly limned in lurid

fiery light.

Fire? Behind Jubal flame licked out of the stable windows and horses whistled

their death screams.

The heat was singeing. He drew his sword and turned in a fluid motion, judging

himself as he was wont to do when the crowds had been about him in applauding

tiers and he must kill to live to kill another day, and do so pleasingly.

He felt the thrill of it, the immediacy of it, the joy of the arena, and as the

pack of freed slaves came shouting, he picked out the prince’s eunuch and

reached to wrest a spear from the dead hawk-mask’s grip. He hefted it, left

handed, to cast, just as the man in leopard pelt and cuirass and a dozen

mercenaries came between him and the slaves, cutting him off from his final

refuge, the stairs to the westward wall.

Behind him, the flames seemed hotter, so that he was glad he had not stopped for

armour. He threw the spear, and it rammed home in the eunuch’s gut. The

leopard leader came forward, alone, sword tip gesturing three times, leftward.

Was it Tempus, beneath that frightful armour? Jubal raised his own blade to his

brow in acceptance, and moved to where his antagonist indicated, but the leopard