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

Randal went away to find-whatever concoction he meant to try. Tempus filled his

glass again, perversely, in a cold fury at his own vitality, a fury on the edge

of panic. His body was not even in his control when the god was out of it. He

could not do so simple a thing as fall asleep, when the ache of the world got

too much. He healed, and that was what he did. He healed of the very need of

sleep and the effects of alcohol and the effects of drugs and every other

mortality. Askelon could have come and claimed him by force. But the gods were

not answering today.

None of them bloody cared.

Even Abarsis failed him. Or was held, somewhere.

II

A door opened somewhere far away. Ordinarily this would have alarmed Moria,

though servants came and went for their own reasons. This sounded deeper and

heavier than inside doors.

But just at that moment Tasfalen did something which quite took her senses

inside out; and in the danger in which they both pursued this moment she cursed

herself for butterflies and turned her mind to doing something which she had

learned off a hawkmask lover-easy to pick a man’s brain when he was feeling that

good. Then Tasfalen gave as good back, and better- Shalpa and Shipri, she had

never known a man with his ways, never bedded with a man who knew what he knew,

not even Haught, never Haught-

“Oh,” she said, “oh,” and “0 gods!”-when she brought her head up from the

pillows and saw the dark figure standing in the doorway.

Ischade said not a thing. The air became charged and heavy, copper-edged.