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

“More bound to her than to me? Sacred-” Niko stopped and stared, his mouth half

open, at something behind Strat, so that the big fighter turned to see what Niko

saw.

On Ischade’s doorstep, beside the necromant swathed in her black and hooded

robe, was Janni-or what remained of Janni. The ex-Stepson, ex-living thing was

red and yellow and showing bone; things glittered on him like fireworks or

luminescent grubs. He had holes for eyes and too-long hair and the smell of

newly-turned earth proceeded him down the steps.

Despite himself, Strat looked over his shoulder at Niko, who slumped against the

waist-high fence, his eyes slitted as if against some blinding light, his

crossbow pointing at the ground.

Strat heard Ischade murmur, “Go then. Go to your partner, Janni. Stay awhile.

Have your reunion.” Then, louder, “Strat! Come in. Let them be alone. Let them

solve it-I was wrong; it’s between these two, not us.”

And then, as Niko threw the bow up to his shoulder and took fluid, sudden aim at

Ischade-before Straton could put himself between her and Niko’s arrow, or even

thought to move-Ischade was beside him, facing Niko with a look on her face

Strat had never seen before: deep pain, compassion, even acknowledgment of a

kindred soul.

“So you’re the one. The special one. Nikodemos, over whom even the god Enlil and

the entelechy of dreams contend.” She nodded as if in her drawing room, sipping

tea at some civil table. “I see why. Nikodemos, don’t choose your enemies too

quickly. The witch who sent you here has Randal-is that not a greater wrong, a