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Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

Shambles Cross, on the Sanctuary-ward side of the bridge. “Look, I’ve got a man

in sight; it just takes a little to get him here. Meanwhile even Downwind takes

money-leading a man anywhere takes money.”

“Maybe more than you’re worth,” the man said, a man who frightened him, even in

the open alley, alone. “You know there’s a string on you. You know how easy it

is to draw it in. Maybe I should just say-produce the man. Bring him here. Or

maybe we ought to invite you in for a talk. Would you like that,-hawkmask?”

“You’ve got it wrong.” Mor-am’s teeth chattered. The night wind felt cold even

for the season; or it was Becho’s stuff working at his stomach. He locked his

arms the tighter. “I take chances for what I get. I’ve got connections. It

doesn’t mean I’m-“

“If we hauled you in,” the man said, ever so softly with the animals grunting

softly in the distance, doomed to the axe in the morning, “if we did that they’d

just change all the drops and meeting places, wouldn’t they? So we dribble coin

into your hand and you supply us names and places and times, and they do work

don’t they? But if they should be wrong-maybe I’ve got someone supplying me

yours. Ever wonder that, Wriggly? Maybe you’re not the only hawk-mask who wants

to turn coat. So let’s not make up tales. Where? Who? When?”

“Name’s Vis. At Mama Becho’s.”

“That’s a tight place. Not easy to get at.”

“That’s my point. I get him to you.” There was a silence. The man

brought out silver pieces and dropped them into Mor-am’s hand, then clenched

fingers on his as they closed. “You know,” the Rankan said, “the last one

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Categories: Asprin, Robert
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