Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

had told him was his-if he could get it out of the well.

It was irresistible. He bent to the bags, opened one, took forth a few wet

silver coins. And he sighed. He dribbled them back in, listening to their sweet

lovely clink, and he did it again- keeping a few in his fist. Then, staring

thoughtfully down at those bags sending wet runnels along the floor, he sighed.

“You are god and my god, Shadowed One. This… this is safe in the well. Uh,

can you put it back?”

Hanse jerked when the bags vanished, and he wondered if he were not the greatest

fool in Sanctuary. How silly I am going to feel when I wake up from this dream?

“It is back in the well, Son of the Shadow, and aye, it is safe indeed! And we

must go, my sister and I. Our time on this plane is necessarily limited.”

Hanse raised an expostulating hand, said “But-” and was alone in Eaglenest. The

candles remained, burning. So now did food and wine, on the table before him. He

glanced down. The puddles and dark run-stains of water remained. And so did the

coins in his hand, a few pieces of silver.

Did that mean it had all indeed happened?

No, of course not. When I wake, the coins will be gone.

The food he took with him, eating as he left, tasted very good in his dream, and

the wine was the very best he had ever sipped. Only sipped; the sack remained

heavy as he climbed the steps to his room deep in that area of Sanctuary called

the Maze. (It was even more dangerous now than ever before, what with all

these damned swaggering soldiers, all foreigners; that was one reason he had