Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

And pace, pace, pace along the bridge, a striding of small slippered feet, soft

against the wooden planks; and onto the wet pavings and then the paveless alleys

of the Downwind. She hunted, herself the lure, as the slave had been-

Perhaps she would find him, lingering too long in his flight. Then she would

have no compunction. A part of her hoped for this, and savored the trust there

might be at first, and then the terror; and part of her said no.

She was fastidious. The first accoster she met disgusted her, and she left him

dazed by the close encounter of her eyes, as if he had forgotten why he was in

this place at all; but the second took her fancy, being young and with that

arrogance of the street tough, the selfish self-doubt that amused her in its

undoing, for most of that ilk recognized her in their heart of hearts, and knew

that they had met what they had hated all their twisted lives-

That kind was worth the hunt. That kind had no gentler core, to wound her with

regret. This one had no regret in him, and no one in all the world would miss

him.

There was an abundance of his kind in Sanctuary and its adjuncts; it was why she

stayed in this place, who had known so many cities: this city deserved her…

like the young man who faced her now.

She thought of Haught still running, and laughed a twisted laugh, but soon the

assailant/victim was too far gone to hear, and in the next moment she was.

iv

“Money,” Mor-am said, sweating. His hands shook and he folded his arms about his

ribs under his cloak, casting a furtive look this way and that down the alley of