Thieves World 8 – Soul of the City by Asprin, Robert

almost made him feel it was, when he knew better. Niko was vulnerable the way

his kind was when the uncaring little fools got past his guard; when the

holding-action stopped and the god came thundering in to wrench the world

apart again and Niko was the one standing rearguard to fools more

vulnerable than himself. One like Kama was walking around and Niko was lying

there in a bed losing a fight far too abstract for Kama to understand. She went

out to do battle.

He did his fighting from this table, with a cup in hand. And could not, now that

he wanted to surrender, find the god. Even that, he might have foreseen.

Randal stayed when Kama had gone. Randal was a fool of Niko’s breed; and for a

moment Randal, sweating and white as he was, looked at him with Nik&’s kind of

understanding, and came and took the cup out of his hand, which gesture might

have gotten another man killed. Foolish man. Foolish little mage. Who blundered

his way along with more deftness and a keener sight and more guts than most ever

had at their best.

So Tempus let him do it.

“You won’t dream,” Randal said, “if you pass out.”

“I won’t pass out,” Tempus said, patiently, oh so patiently. “I heal, remember.

There isn’t any damn way. Now I want the damn god I can’t get there.”

“I’ve got a drug might… put you down a bit. If you let it.”

“Try it.” It took patience to say that. He already knew it would not work, but

Randal was trying.

No god answered him. Not even Stormbringer, who was- gods knew where. There was

not a cloud to be had out there.