Thieves World 5 – The Face of Chaos by Asprin, Robert

burn!’

Ischade straightened.

Beyond the window slats a fire arced, flared. Kept flaring, sun-bright. There

were screams, a rush of wind. Mradhon whirled, saw the blaze of light at every

window and Ischade standing black and still in the midst of them, her eyes –

He averted his, gazed at Haught’s pale face. And the screams went on outside.

Fire roared like a furnace about the house, went from white to red to white

again outside, and the screams died.

There was silence then. The fire-glow vanished. Even the light of the candles,

the fire in the fireplace sank lower. He turned towards Ischade, saw her let go

a breath. Her face – he had never seen it angry; and saw it now.

But she walked to a table, quietly poured wine, a rich, rich red. She turned up

other cups, two, four, the sixth. She filled only the one. ‘Make yourselves at

home,’ she said. ‘Food, if you wish it. Drink. It will be safe for you. I say

that it is.’

None of them moved. Not one. Ischade drained her cup and drew a quiet breath.

‘There is night left,’ she said. ‘An hour or more to dawn. Sit down. Sit down

where you choose.’

And she set the cup aside. She took off her cloak, draped it over a chair, bent

and pulled off one boot and the other, then rose to stand barefoot on the litter

that carpeted this place; she drew off her rings and cast them on the table,

looked up again, for still no one had moved.

‘Please yourselves,’ she said, and her eyes masked in insouciance something very

dark.

Mradhon edged back.

‘I would not,’ she said, ‘try the door. Not now.’