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

Stilcho shivered there in the dark against the gate, his back to the river-he

still could shiver, though his flesh was less warm than formerly. And having

been rash with Janni he passed further bounds of good sense. He stared at the

ghost and saw that Janni was not his usual furious self. There was something

diminished about the ghost. And desperate. As if his arguments had told. “So you

want my help,” he said to Janni, “to get Niko back. You and he can go to hell

together for what I care. Ask Her, why don’t you?”

“I’m asking you.” The ghost wavered and resumed solid shape. “You were one of

the best of the ones we recruited. You were one-who’d have been one of us,

after. After the war. Where were those precious lads when you wanted help out on

that bridge, in that sty Downwind while the Ilsigi took you apart? Who helped

you? The Ilsigi-loving dogs Strat cleaned out? You’re Rankan.”

“Half. Half, you bloody prig, and not good enough for you till you were short of

help. No, there’s a damn lot I don’t forget. You left us as bloody meat-Ran out

on us, left us to hold this hell-hole, dammit, you knew the Nisi would hit at

your underbelly, come in here where Ranke’s hold’s weakest. Not with swords, no;

with witchery and money, the sort of thing the Nisibisi are long on and this

gods-forsaken pit of a town is apt for-“

“And corruption inside, inside the corps. Dammit, how quick did you forget? You

love the Wrigglie bastards that did that to you? You defend your Wrigglie-loving

barracksmates? Stilcho,” Janni’s face wavered in and out of solidity. “Stilcho