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

“She-” hissed the mage. “She’s at the bottom of it. If we can destroy her-even

contain her-maybe we can set the rest right!”

“You go right ahead,” snapped Lalo. “Just drawing her picture was bad enough.

Fight your own wars-it’s nothing to do with me!”

Randal sighed. “I can’t force you, but others may try. You’ll wish you had

allies then.”

Lalo stared sullenly into his wine. “Threats won’t move me either, mage!”

There was a short silence. Then Randal fumbled with his collar again.

“I’m not threatening you,” he said tiredly. “I don’t have to. Take this …”

From the apparently limitless compartment in his dog collar he pulled a wadded

cloth. It opened out as it fell and Lalo saw a garish rainbow of red and blue

and yellow and black and green. “It’ll get you across town when you decide you

need help from me. Ask for me at the Palace …”

He paused, but Lalo would not meet his eyes. Randal got to his feet, and as his

movement stirred the drawing, shadows lifted like dark wings in the corners of

the room. Like the winged shadows in the picture, thought Lalo, shivering. Very

carefully the mage rolled up the drawing. Lalo made no objection. He never

wanted to see it, or the mage, again. His vision blurred and images moved just

beyond the limits of his perception. He shuddered again.

“Thank you for the loan of your cloak …” The words trailed off oddly.

Lalo looked up just in time to see his outer garment settle like a deflating

balloon across the chair. Something wriggled beneath it, sneezed, and then

pushed free. He saw a gaunt, wolfish dog stand up, shake itself, and lift one