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

brought the ten core pairs to Strat, their line commander and half a Sacred Band

pair himself, with ultimata: either the barracks was reclaimed, and purified,

the honor and the glory of their unit restored so that Stepsons could once again

hold their heads high in the town, or they were leaving- going up to Tyse to

find Tempus and lay before him their grievances.

So it was that Strat walked now among the slaughter within the barracks’ outer

walls, among corpses burned past recognition and others disemboweled, among

women and children gutted for being where they had no right to be and housepets

slit from jaws to tails, their entrails already out at Vashanka’s field altar of

handhewn stones, ready to be offered to the god.

Ischade walked with him, inky eyes agleam within her hood. He’d promised Ischade

something, one night last autumn. He wondered if this was it-if the killing had

gotten out of hand because Ischade was there, and not because Zip’s Popular

Front for the Liberation of Sanctuary knew nothing of restraint and Sync’s 3rd

Commando, not to be outdone, forsook all thoughts of proper measure once it was

clear that the ersatz Stepsons had been keeping dogs on grounds consecrated to

Vashanka, the Rankan god of rape and pillage.

Rape, of course, was still under way in the stables and in the long low

barracks. Strat saw Ischade turn her head away at the piteous cries of women

who’d been where women had no right to be and now paid the soldiers’ tithe.

Around them, PFLS rebels ran to and fro, heavy sacks or gleaming tack upon their