Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

named your name.”

“Of course.” Mor-am tried not to shake. “Wouldn’t you want revenge?”

“Others have. You knew they would.”

“But you want them brought out of the Downwind. And I do that for you.” He

clenched his jaw, a grimace against the chattering of his teeth. “So maybe we

get to the big names. I give you those-I deliver them to you just like the

little ones. But that’s another kind of price.”

“Like your life, scum?”

“You know I’m useful. You’ll find I can be more useful than you think. Not cash.

A way out.” His teeth did chatter, spoiling his pose. “For me and one other.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you’ll be cooperating. You know if the word gets out on the

streets how we got our hands on your friends-you know how long you’d last.”

“So I’m loyal,” Mor-am said.

“As a dog.” The man thrust his hand back at him. “Here. Tomorrow moonrise.”

“I’ll get him.” Mor-am subdued the shivering and sucked in a breath. “We

negotiate the others.”

“Get out of here.”

He went, slow steps at first, and quicker, still with a tendency to shiver,

still with a looseness in his knees.

* * *

But the man climbed the stairs of a building near that alley and made his own

report.

“The slave is gone,” one said, who in his silk and linen hardly belonged in the

Shambles, but neither did the quarters, that were comfortable and well-lit

behind careful shutters and sealing of the cracks. Two of the men were Stepsons,

who smelted of oil and light sweat and horses, whose eyes were alike and cold;

three had the look of something else, a functionary kind of coldness. “Into the