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

place, leaving only the pale old man, the visitor with hollow eyes. We should

sit and talk, Kurd said.

S/r? asked a wan, lost ghost, accosting a drunk who staggered by the Unicorn,

stopping up his ears. Sir? What street is this? I got to get home, me wife ‘II

kill me, sure.

On the street of gods a priestess screamed, waking to find a tiny ghost lying at

her breast, all wet and dripping with riverweed, an infant of dark and accusing

eyes.

A clatter of hooves rang through the Stepson barracks courtyard, a rattle of

armour, a breath of cold wind.

And in the headquarters in the town, Dolon gave orders, dispatched men here and

there – stopped cold as, alone, he realized other men had come, with their

blackened skin and flesh hanging from their limbs.

We’ve lost, Erato said.

Fool! A different presence burst among them, whose armour shone, whose look was

bronze and gold; he came striding in from out of the wall itself and the others

fled. The air smelled suddenly of dust and heat. Ofool, what have you done?

And Dolon backed away, knowing legend when he saw it.

The presence faded and left cold in its stead.

Ischade stirred, feeling the pain of long-rigid limbs. A heavy weight poured

against her, Stilcho in collapse. And one last thing she did, without thinking

of it, holding the Stepson in her arms: ‘Come back,’ she said, knowing it was

dawn.

No, the almost-ghost said, weeping, but she compelled it. The body grew warm

again. Moaned with pain.

‘Help me,’ she said, looking up at the others who sat huddled in the corner.