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

You can row right into it at high tide. And when you lift the slab at the other

end, you’re in the temple itself.’

Hort’s coda had drawn from his listener all the awed pleasure that a story well

told could bring. The local man stood up, strengthened by the respect of a

strong man. ‘May your gods lead you well, sir,’ Hort said, squeezing the

Cirdonian’s hand in leave-taking. ‘I look forward to hearing your story.’

The youth strode out of the cantina with a flourish and a nod to the other

patrons. Samlor shook his head. In a world that seemed filled with sharks and

stonefish, Hort’s bright courage was as admirable as it was rare.

To say that Samlor felt like an idiot was to understate matters. It was the only

choice he could come up with at short notice, however, and which did not involve

others. At this juncture, the Cirdonian was not willing to involve others.

He had rented a mule cart. It had provided a less noticeable method of scouting

the cove than a horse would have done. The cart had also transported the punt he

had bought to the nearest launching place to the headland that he could find.

The roadstead on which Sanctuary was built was edged mostly by swamps, but the

less-sheltered shore to the west had been carved away by storms. The limestone

corniche rose ten to fifty feet above the sea, either sheer or with an outward

batter. A lookout on the upper rim could often not see a vessel inshore but

beneath him. That was to Samlor’s advantage; but the punt, the only craft the

Cirdonian felt competent to navigate, was utterly unsuited to the ocean.