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

“Find him. Arrange a meeting. Offer him whatever he wants, if necessary.” He

swung into the saddle, shedding his aches and tiredness.

“Whoa.” Walegrin caught the gelding’s reins and looked Molin square in the eye.

“It said that was your lesser problem. Hoxa says you don’t eat enough to feed

one of your damn ravens and you sleep on the dirt under your table. You’re the

only one in the Palace my men respect-the only one / respect-and it’s not right

for you to be off with ‘greater problems.'”

Molin sighed and accepted the conspiracy between the officer and his scrivener.

“My greater problems, I was told, lie within my past. You’ll have to let me

struggle with them on my own.”

They rode away from the temple in silence, Walegrin keeping his mare a good

distance behind the gelding. He bit his lip, scratched himself and gave every

indication of reaching an unpleasant decision before trotting the mare to

Molin’s side.

“You should go to Illyra,” he stated sullenly. “Heaven’s forfend-why?”

“She’s good at finding things.”

“Even if she were, and I admit she is, I’ve taken her son from her. She’s got no

cause to do me a favor. I’d sooner ask Arton directly,” Molin said, thinking it

might not be a bad idea.

“Illyra’d be better. And she’d do it-because you have Arton.”

“That smith-husband of hers would use me for kindling. Even if she’s forgiven

me, he hasn’t.”

“I’ll crush a few wheels and send Thrush with a message that he’s needed at the

barracks to mend some iron. You’ll have the time.”

The priest had no desire to talk to the seeress. He had no desire to go rooting