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

instructed. “Keep it small, just a private family altar.”

Rashan nodded again. “But you must design it.”

“What?” She gave a startled look. “I’m no architect!”

“I’ll handle the mechanics and the geometries,” he assured her. “But you are the

Daughter of the Sun. The core design must spring from your own heart and soul.”

She sighed, then remembered her other errand. It was getting late, and the gods

knew she didn’t want to worry her father. She clasped the priest’s hand

gratefully. “I will design it,” she said, relishing the idea of a new challenge.

“We’ll begin immediately. The cold mustn’t stop us. My thanks, Rashan.” She

pulled up the hood to conceal her face and started to leave. But at the door she

stopped and called back, “And no more dreams!”

Outside again, her breath made little clouds in the air. She hadn’t meant to

spend so long with Rashan. The daylight was weakening; a gray shroud had closed

over the city. She hurried down the Avenue of Temples and turned onto Governor’s

Walk, passing with a wary eye the same corner where she and Daphne had been

attacked the night before. It was quiet now; the shadows and crannies appeared

empty of threat. She turned down Weaver’s Way and crossed the Path of Money. At

last, she reached Prytanis Street and her destination.

The air seemed suddenly colder, unnaturally cold as she pushed back an unlocked

gate and approached a massive set of wooden doors. She knocked. There was no

answer, nor any sound from within. She gazed around at the strange stone statues