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

It’s almost over. Talk to Ischade. Talk to Ischade and I can sleep again.

Thus it was that a wobbly Zalbar donned his uniform and ventured out into the

last rays of the setting sun, determined to rid himself of his nighttime

tormenter or die in the attempt … which, at the moment, seemed a reasonably

attractive option.

It was his intention to follow the North Road, which skirted the city’s walls,

to the bridge over the White Foal River, thereby avoiding the streets of the

city proper. It was well known that, following the Hell-Hounds’ removal, the

chaos in town had evolved into vicious street fighting between rival factions,

and he had no desire to be delayed by a brawl. Once he had walked unafraid even

in the Maze, the heart of Sanctuary’s underground. Now, that was someone else’s

concern and there was no need to take unnecessary risks.

The further he went, the more he realized that he had underestimated the extent

of the urban warfare. Even here, outside the city, his trained eye could detect

signs of preparations for violence. There were boxes and barrels stacked in

formations clearly designed for cover and defense rather than for storage, and

there were any number of armed men lounging in corners with no apparent purpose

other than to serve as lookouts. Despite his weakened condition, Zalbar grew

more tense as he walked, feeling scores of concealed eyes watching him …

appraising his strength. Perhaps he should have taken the longer route, skirting

the town to the east, then passing south along the wharfs where violence was