Thieves World 7 – The Dead of Winter by Asprin, Robert

reclamation of a dozen or more estates beyond the city walls. Molin, having

refused any reconciliation with his wife, lived in a barren room not far from

the dungeon cells it resembled. He’d delegated all responsibility for the Rankan

state cults to Rashan who, it seemed, was eager to insinuate himself in Lowan

Vigeles’s good graces. The Eye of Savankala promptly moved his entire

disaffected coterie out to his estate at Land’s End in hopes that not only could

the Rankan upper class maintain itself there, untainted by the Beysib presence,

but that they could somehow promulgate the ultimate miracle and propel Prince

Kadakithis successfully back to the Imperial Throne.

Molin, in turn, spent all his time studying the reports his underlings and

informants brought him, searching for the clues that would tell him which of

Sanctuary’s numerous factions was most powerful or most volatile. He ceased to

care about anything Rankan and thought only of the fate of Sanctuary as it

revealed itself through his informants. He left his room only to visit the

children and practice with Walegrin each morning before dawn.

“Supper, My Lord Torchholder?” Hoxa inquired.

“Later, Hoxa.”

“It is later. Lord Torchholder. Only you and the torturers are still awake. Your

old quarters are empty now. I’ve taken the liberty of scrounging a new mattress.

Lord Torchholder, whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it if you don’t

get some sleep.”

He felt his tiredness; the cramps in his legs and shoulders from too little

movement and too much dampness; and remembered, with a nicker of shame, that he