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

step, the ground’s much broken. And a word, ladies, by your leave: watch

yourselves in there. So many go in and don’t come out again.”

Looking at the dark town crouching behind brazen gates, Mriga could believe it.

Hell looked a great deal like Sanctuary.

One by one they got out of the boat and started up the slope. Siveni was last

out, and so busy looking up at the rocky ground that she missed what was right

under her feet. She lost her footing and almost fell, just managing to catch

herself with her spear. “Hell,” she said, a bitter joke: The spear spat

lightnings.

The ferryman, watching her, frowned slightly. “We don’t call it that here,” he

said. “Do we now, love?”

The bones rattled slightly. “Ah well. Off we go then….” And they were alone on

the far shore.

The gates were exactly like those of the Triumph Gate not far from the

Governor’s Palace, but where those were iron, these were brazen, and locked and

mightily barred. The four stood together, hearing more strongly than they had

yet the sounds of lamentation from inside. It was beginning to sound less

threatening, the way a horrible smell becomes less horrible with exposure.

“Well,” Siveni said, “what now? Is there some spell we need?”

Ischade shook her head, looking mildly surprised. “I don’t normally use this

route,” she said. “And the few times I’ve bothered, hell’s gates have been open.

Very odd indeed. Someone has been making changes …”

“Someone who’s expecting us, I’ll wager,” Siveni said. “Allow me.” She lifted up

the spear, leaned back with it like a javelin-thrower, and threw it at the