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

Ischade softened. “And Sanctuary?” she concluded. “You see, we are not so

different after all: I did not choose Sanctuary; my self-interest chose it for

me. My life is complicated by enemies and allies alike. Every step my self

interest dictates forces me further down a path I would not willingly travel.”

“Then you will help me bring order to Sanctuary?”

“Order brings light into all the comers and shadows. No, Torchholder, Bearer of

Light, I will not help bring your order to Sanctuary. I find that snakes, be

they Roxane’s or Shupansea’s, are not to my interests.”

“My Lady, we both use black birds. Does this make you a priest or me a wizard?

Does it mean we are like Roxane, who favors a black eagle, or like the Beysib,

who revere a white bird almost as much as they revere their snakes? Has not our

shared, unwilling, concern for this cesspool of a town made us allies?”

“We could be more than allies,” she smiled, moving closer to him until he could

smell the sweet musk that surrounded her. Molin’s dread mastered him. He bolted

from the otherworldly house, her laughter and parting words ringing in his ears:

“When you meet Randal, ask him about Shamshi and witch-blood.”

Stilcho was gone. The gelding’s eyes were ringed with white; flickering witch

fire clung to its saddle. Molin had scarcely set his feet into the stirrups

before it bounded away from the misty clearing. The gelding wanted the warmth

and familiarity of its stall within the Palace walls; Molin fought it the length

of the Wideway, past the curious fishermen waiting for the tide and the