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

course, he had made a small fortune by betting on her battles in the arena. She

peered at her uncle and felt nothing but anger.

“If you want to talk, Old Weasel,” she said low-voiced, “we’d better do it on

the terrace away from other ears.”

Molin looked as if he’d swallowed bitter wine, then he turned and shoved a path

through the guests to the terrace. Chenaya leaned far over the balcony, tempting

him to push her. On the docks in the distance she could see the glimmering fires

of the poorer Beysib sailors. They, too, celebrated the Winter Bey in their own

less lavish way.

“… Stupid, thoughtless action!” Molin Torchholder raged, shaking his fist. “If

Shupansea is angry enough to take action where will we be? She has a thousand

warriors!”

Chenaya’s waist was encircled by numerous chains. She unfastened one of them and

draped it around Molin’s neck. One end was pronged.

“You ordered the attack on Daphne’s caravan. Uncle Molin.” She held up a hand

before he could protest. “Don’t deny it. I know. I saw everything, including

your face, in a scrying crystal.”

Molin didn’t bother to hide his laughter. “You accuse me because of something

you saw in a fortune-teller’s ball? You’re as insane as Daphne!”

“No, Uncle,” she answered. “What I saw was real. It was no mere fortune-teller.

I promised Daphne the names of her tormentors, and I did what I had to do to get

those names. Gods know every one of them deserves to die. Scavengers’ Island is

filthier and more vile even than Sanctuary.” She clasped both ends of the chain