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

time for pointless altercations with any of the factions that governed the

night.

The animal pens of Corlas, the camel merchant, were on the shore of the White

Foal River just outside the Bazaar. According to rumor, it was one of the places

to avoid these days. The war between the two witches, Ischade and Roxane, had

made an unpredictable hell of the area, and half the residents had apparently

chosen sides.

Games, games, she sighed. Everybody plays. And who could tell-if things got dull

maybe she’d take a closer interest in the players. On the other hand, things

were looking anything but dull. Enas Yorl had surprised her in more ways than

one.

Unexpectedly, she heard voices behind her. She ducked into the nearest cranny

and crouched behind a barrel. Slops, to judge by the odor. She held her nose and

waited. A ragtag squad of men passed without noticing her. Most appeared to wear

swords, though a few carried only clubs. There was nothing disciplined about

them. They talked too loudly and swaggered as if they owned the night. She

suspected they’d all been drinking.

When they were past she resumed her journey. Quickly, she reached the bank of

the White Foal. The swiftly flowing surface caught her attention. Starlight

sparkled on the waves. The gentle lapping had an almost mesmerizing quality. A

strange emotion stole upon her, a mixture of fear and fascination, the same

sensation that had overcome her when she set foot upon her first boat and sailed

to Scavengers’ Island. Again, she remembered the voice of Savankala and the