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

three-quarters of the circumference, however. A 90° arc looked out unimpeded on

the waters of the cove, which lapped almost to the building’s foundations.

And out at the mouth of the cove, its hull black upon the phosphorescence

through which sweeps drove it languidly, was a trawler. The vessel’s sail was

furled because of the breeze that began to push against the rising ride when the

land cooled faster than the sea.

There were sounds outside the temple. Mice, perhaps, or dogs; or even tramps

looking for at least the semblance of shelter.

More likely not. Nothing Hort had said suggested that the ceremony planned for

tonight would be limited to the boatload who had carried Star to Death’s

Harbour. Not all the Setmur would be involved, but at least a few others would

slip in from the greater community. The tunnel was as good a hiding place as

could be found; and if the guard had been placed in the temple, it was at least

probable that Star would be brought to it by her captors.

Samlor slipped back the way he had come. He set the tip of the Beysib bow

between the edge of the trap door and its jamb. That wedged the door open a

crack, through which Samlor could hear better and see; and be seen, but the

lights would be dim against discovery, and the alcove was some protection as

well. Then Samlor waited, with a reptile’s patience, and the chill certainty of

a reptile as well.

The firstcomers were blurs bringing no illumination at all. Shawls, pantaloons

like those the guard had worn, sweeping nervously through Samlor’s field of