Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

youth, and his sorties upon the bloody roads of life had been colored by those

encounters: he yet bore the curse of one of their number, and his hatred of them

was immortal. He had thought that even should he die, his despite would live on

to harass them-he hoped that it were true. For to fight with enchanters of

skill, the same skills were needed, and he eschewed those arts. The price was

too high. He would never acknowledge power over freedom, eternal servitude of

the spirit was too great a cost for mastery in life. Yet a man could not stand

alone against witchfire-hatred. To survive, he had been forced to make a pact

with the Storm God, Vashanka. He had been brought to collar like a wild dog. He

heeled to Vashanka, these days, at the god’s command. But he did not like it.

There were compensations, if such they could be called. He lived interminably,

though he could not sleep at all? he was immune to simple, nasty war-magics; he

had a sword which cut through spells like cheese and glowed when the god took an

interest. In battle he was more than twice as fast as a mortal man-while they

moved so slowly he could do as he willed upon a crowded field which was a melee

to all but him, and even extend his hyper speed to his mount, if the horse was

of a certain strain and tough constitution. And wounds he took healed quickly

instantly if the god loved him that day, more slowly if they had been

quarreling. Only once-when he and his god had had a serious falling-out over

whether or not to rape his sister-had Vashanka truly deserted him. But even