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

grateful for the shimmer in his vision, the blur he couldn’t blink away. The

hawkmask shivered and lurched backwards in their grasp as Crit spoke first:

‘Good evening, madam. We thought the time had come to meet, face to face. We’ve

brought you this gift, a token of our good will.’ He spoke blandly, matter-of

factly, letting her know they knew all about her and didn’t really care what she

did to the unwary or the unfortunate. Straton’s mouth dried and his tongue stuck

to the roof of it. None was colder than Crit, or more tenacious when work was

under way.

The woman, Ischade, dusky-skinned but not the ruddy tone of Nisibis, an olive

cast that made the whites other teeth and eyes very bright, bade them enter.

‘Bring him in, then, and we’ll see what can be seen.’

‘No, no. We’ll leave him – an article of faith. We’d like to know what you hear

of Jubal, or his band – whereabouts, that sort of thing. If you come to think of

any such information, you can find me at the mercenaries’ hostel.’

‘Or in your hidey-hole in Shambles Cross?’

‘Sometimes.’ Crit stood firm. Straton, his relief a flood, now that he knew they

weren’t going in there, gave the hawkmask a shove. ‘Go on, boy, go to your

mistress.’

‘A slave, then, is this one?’ she asked Strat and that glance chilled his soul

when it fixed on him. He’d seen butchers look at sheep like that. He half

expected her to reach out and tweak his biceps.

He said: ‘What you wish, he is.’

She said: ‘And you?’

Crit said: ‘Forbearance has its limits.’

She replied: ‘Yours, perhaps, not mine. Take him with you; I want him not. What