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

The gelid remains of breakfast remained on the sideboard, ignored by the endemic

vermin. It would taste worse than it looked, though Cythen was long past the

luxury of tasting the food she ate: one ate what was available or one starved.

She filled her bowl and sat alone by the hearth.

Bekin’s death was still unexplained and unavenged and that weighed more heavily

upon her than the greasy porridge. For more years than she cared to remember,

her only pride had been that she had somehow managed to care for Bekin. Now that

was gone and she stood emotionally naked to her guilts and unbidden memories. If

the Harka Bey had not appeared, she might still have blamed them but, despite

their barbaric coldness, or perhaps because of it, she believed what they had

said. The warmth of tears rose within her as her brooding was broken by the

sound of a chair scraping along the floor in the watchroom above her. Rather

than succumb to the waiting tears, she went to confront Walegrin.

The straw-blond man didn’t notice as she opened the door. He was absorbed in his

square of parchment and the cramped rows of figures he had made upon it. With

one hand on the door, Cythen hesitated. She didn’t like Walegrin; no one really

did, except maybe Thrusher – and he was almost as strange. The garrison’s

officer repelled compassion and friendship alike and hid his emotions so

thoroughly that none could find them. Still, Walegrin managed to provide

leadership and direction when it was needed – and he reminded Cythen of no one

else in her troubled past.