Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

He was glad he had not prevailed on the prince to come along…. What a

woman! And what was her name? He had been told, he was sure, but just forgot. .

. .

Outside, torchlit, their breath steaming white through cold-sharpened night air,

waiting for their ivory-screened wagon, they giggled over the distinction

between “serious” and “solemn”: the First Hazard had been serious, Molin was

solemn; Tempus the Hell-Hound was serious, Prince Kadakithis, solemn; the

destabiliza-tion campaign they were undertaking in Sanctuary under the auspices

of a Mygdonian-funded Nisibisi witch (who had come to Lastel, alias One-Thumb,

in the guise of a comely caravan mistress hawking Garonne drugs) was serious;

the threat of northern invasion, down-country at the Empire’s anus, was most

solemn.

As her laughter tinkled, he nuzzled her: “Did you manage to … ?”

“Oh, yes. I had a perfectly lovely time. What a wonderful idea of yours this

was,” she whispered, still speaking court Rankene, a dialect she had been using

exclusively in public ever since the two of them-the Mazedweller One-Thumb and

the escaped sorcerer-slayer Cime-had decided that the best cover for them was

that which her magic provided: they need not do more. Her brother Tempus knew

that Lastel was actually One-Thumb, and that she was with him, but he would

hesitate to reveal them: he had given his silence, if not his blessing, to their

union. Within reasonable limits, they considered themselves safe to bargain

lives and information to both sides in the coming crisis. Even now, with the war