Thieves World 4 – Storm Season by Asprin, Robert

Downwind. I think we can conclude the answer is no. We have to extend our

measures. Someone knows. We take the hawkmasks alive and eventually we find the

slaver.”

“We should pull the slave in,” another said. “No,” said the first. “Too

disruptive. If convenient… we take him.”

“This woman is inconvenient.”

“We hardly need more inconvenience than we’ve had. No. We keep it quiet. We

destroy no leads. We want this matter taken out-down to the roots. And that

means Jubal himself.”

“I don’t think,” said the man from the street, “that our informer can be relied

on that far. That’s the one who ought to be pulled in, kept a little closer …

encouraged to talk.”

“And if he won’t? No. We still need him.”

“A post. Security. Get him into our steady employ and we’ll learn where

all his soft spots are. He’ll soften up fast. Just twist the screws now and then

and he’ll do everything he has to.”

“If you make a mistake with him-“

“No mistake. I know this little snake.” A chair grated. One of the Stepsons had

put his foot on the rung, folded his arms with elaborate disdain for

the proceedings. “There are quicker ways,” the Stepson said. No one said

anything to that. No one debated, but slid the discussion aside from it,

arguing only the particulars and a slave who had finally run.

* * *

The bridge was always the worst part, coming or going. It narrowed

possibilities. There was one way and only one way, afoot, to come into the

Downwind, and Mor-am took it, sweating, feeling his heart pounding, with a

little edge of black around his vision that might be terror or something in the