Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

and ways of combative science that made him even swifter.

“But I did move, Niko; I did move. Tell Tem-pus how I move, you he set to teach

me to be a bladesman. And tell him that still I have no desire to be a soldier.

No desire to do murder, ‘nobly’ or no.”

Niko stared at him.

Damned… boy, he mused. Oh, but I’m weary of him and his sneers and his

snot. I have known only war. He, who has never known it, dares sneer at it and

its practitioners. Neither of us had a father-I because mine was slain-in war

when I was a child; this posturing backstreet blade-bristling night-thief

because his mother and his father were nodding acquaintances at best. Nor would

I change places with this . . . this little gutter-rat, so happy in his

provincial ignorance and his total inconsequence. I had rather be a man.

And I have made him a fighter, a real fighter, so that now he swaggers even

more!

“And look you to keep your valuables ‘neath your pillow, Niko. Stealth, for I am

shadow-spawned stealth, and have seen even the bed of the Prince-Governor . . .

and of Tempus.”

Niko of the Stepsons showed nothing and did not respond. Inside, he seethed only

a little. Petty insults were cheap, cheap. As cheap as barely nubile yet

experienced professional girls in the shadowy Maze that spawned this naive youth

and served him as nest and den. Niko stepped back a pace, formally. Holding his

blade up before squinting eyes, he turned it for his examination before putting

it away in one swift smooth motion.

The Sanctuarite was not so insolent as to keep his weapon naked in his hand. He