But the joy hanging in the air still refused to go entirely away. She shut the
gate behind her and looked up at the stairs to the house. Haught stood there,
and Stilcho, swords drawn in their hands. Ischade waved them inside, assuming
their obedience, and turned to regard the rosebush.
Stilcho went inside, unnerved. Haught lingered just past the doorsill. Ischade
paid him no mind, if she knew he was there. Eventually she moved, and reached
out to the hedge. And if Haught saw Ischade cast a long, thoughtful gaze at the
whitest of the roses before reaching out to pluck the black one, he never
mentioned it to her, then or ever.
WHEN THE SPIRIT MOVES YOU
Robert Lynn Asprin
“Is he asleep?”
“Asleep! Hah! He’s passed out again.”
Zalbar heard the whores’ voices as if from a distance and wanted very badly to
take exception to what they were saying. He wasn’t asleep or passed out. He
could understand every word that was being said. His eyes were just closed,
that’s all … and damned hard to open too. Hardly worth the effort.
“I don’t know why the Madame puts up with him. He’s not that good-looking, or
rich.”
“Maybe she has a weak spot for lost puppies and losers.”
“If she does, it’s the first sign of it she’s shown since I’ve been here.”
A loser? Him? How could they say that? Wasn’t he a Hell-Hound? One of the most
feared swordsmen in Sanctuary?
Struggling to focus his mind, Zalbar became aware that he was sitting in a
chair. Well, sitting slumped over, the side of his head resting on something
hard … presumably a table. There was a puddle of something cold and sticky