Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

dissembling, or forged papers) Niko had turned to Tempus for a decision as to

whether instruction must continue. Shadowspawn, called Hanse, was a natural

bladesman, as good as any man wishing to wield a sword for a living needed to

be-on the ground, Niko had said. As far as horsemanship, he had added almost

sadly, niceties could not be taught to a cocky novice who spent more time

arguing that he would never need to master them than practicing what he was

taught. Similarly, so far as tradecraft went, Hanse’s fear of being labelled a

Stepson-in-training or an apprentice Sacred Bander prevented him from

fraternizing with the squadron during the long evenings when shop-talk and

exploits flowed freely, and every man found much to learn. Niko had shrugged,

spreading his hands to indicate an end to his report. Throughout it (the longest

speech Tempus had ever heard the Stepson make), Tempus could not fail to mark

the disgust so carefully masked, the frustration and the unwillingness to admit

defeat which had hidden in Nikodemos’ lowered eyes and blank face. Tempus’

decision to pronounce the student Shadowspawn graduated, gift him with a horse,

and go on to new business had elicited a subtle inclination of head-an

agreement, nothing less-from the youthful and eerily composed junior mercenary.

Since then, he had not seen him. And, upon seeing him, he had not asked any of

the things he had gone there to find out: not one question as to the exact

circumstances of his partner’s death, or the nature of the mist which had