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

in his hand as he might otherwise have done. He kept a careful watch, however,

for the casual footpads who might waylay him for his purse, or even for the wine

bottle whose neck projected from his scrip.

The chapel of Ils had once had a gate. It had been stolen for the weight of its

wrought iron. There was nothing pertaining to the cult in the sanctuary except a

niche in which the deity was painted. There might at one time have been a statue

in the niche instead; but if so, it had gone the way of the gate. Samlor slipped

through unobtrusively, though he was by no means sure that the drunk asleep in

the corner was only what he seemed.

The alley behind the chapel was black as a politician’s soul, but by now the

Cirdonian was close enough to operate by feel. A set of rickety stairs against

the left wall. A second staircase. The things that squelched and crunched

underfoot did not matter. There were other, stealthy sounds; but the guards

Samlor expected would not attack without orders, and they would fend away less

organized criminals as the Watch could not dream of doing.

A ladder was pinned against the wall. It had ten rungs, straight up into a trap

door in the overhanging story. Samlor climbed two rungs up and rapped on the

door. He was well aware of how extended his body was if he had misjudged the

guard’s instructions.

‘Yes?’ grunted a voice from above.

‘Tarragon,’ Samlor whispered. If the password had been changed, the next sound

would be steel grating through his ribs.

The door flopped open. A pair of men reached down and heaved Samlor inside with