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

you now. On the honour of my House.’ He clenched his fist over the medallion of

Heqt on his breast.

The mask nodded. As Samlor dropped through the trap into darkness, the harsh

voice called from above, ‘Let him go! Let him go, this time!’

There was nothing ugly about the harbour water with the noon sun on it. The

froth was pearly, the fish-guts iridescent; and the water itself, whatever its

admixture of sewage, was faceted into diamond and topaz across its surface.

Samlor sipped his ale in the dockside cantina as he had done at noon on the past

three days. As before, he was waiting for Hort to return with information or the

certain lack of it. The Cirdonian wondered what Star saw when she looked around

her; and whether she found beauty in it.

There was commotion on one of the quays, easily visible through the cantina’s

open front. A trio of Beysib had been stepping a new mast into a trawler. As

they worked, a squad of cavalry – Beysib also, but richly caparisoned in metals

and brocades – had clattered along the quay. The squad halted alongside the

boat. The men on the trawler had seemed as surprised as other onlookers when the

troopers dismounted and leaped aboard, waggling their long swords in visual

emphasis of the orders they shouted.

Nine of the horsemen were involved either in trussing the startled fishermen or

acting as horseholders for the rest. The tenth man watched coldly as the others

worked. He wore a helmet, gilded or gold, with a feather-tipped triple crest.

When he turned as if in disdain for the proceedings, Samlor saw and recognized