Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

while, and maybe I’ve got reasons for doing the same. There are people I don’t

want to meet. No better service I can think of-than a man who might be building

back from a little difficulty. Don’t give me that. Jubal’s gone to cover. Word’s

around. But one of those hawkmasks might suit me . . . keeping my face out of

the sight of two or three.”

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

“No,” the woman said, “I think we ought to talk about it.”

Mradhon frowned, trusting her less, liking it not at all that it was the woman

that took that twist, that looked at him from the cot and tried to demand his

attention away from her brother? cousin? with a quiet, incisive voice.

Then the curtain moved, and a darkskinned man in a hawkmask stood there with a

sword aimed floorward in his hand. “We talk,” the man said, and Mradhon’s heart,

which had leapt several beats while his fingers, obeying previous decision,

stayed still… began to beat again.

“So,” Mradhon said cockily enough, “I was wondering when the rest of us would

get into it. Look-I’m short of funds … a little bit for earnest, so I can

reckon I’m hired. I’m particular about that.”

“Mercenary,” the young man said.

“Once,” Mradhon said. “The guard and I came to a parting of the ways. It’s this

skin of mine.”

“You’re not Ilsigi,” said the mask.

“Half.” It was a lie. It served, when it was convenient.

“You mean,” the youth said, “your mother really knew.”

Heat flamed up in Mradhon’s face. He gripped the knife and let it go again.

“When you know me better,” Mradhon said softly, “I’ll explain it all . . . how