Read Online The face of chaos - Thieves World 05 by Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Short Stories, Fantasy Fiction; American, Fantasy - General, Anthologies, Science fiction; American
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legend says he's defected to the slums, remember?' Crit was shrugging into his chiton, which he'd just tugged off and thrown upon the floor.
'We're not going back out.'
'I am.'
'To look for Niko'! Where?
'Niko and Janni. And I don't know where. But if that pair hasn't turned up those youngsters yet, it's no simple adolescent prank or graduation romp. Let's hope it's just that their meet with Roxane took precedence and it's inopportune for them to leave her.' Crit stood.
Straton didn't.
'Coming?' Crit asked.
'Somebody should be where authority is expected to be found. You should be here or at the hostel, not chasing after someone who might be chasing after you.'
So in the end, Straton won that battle and they went up to the hostel, stopping, since the sun had risen, at Marc's to pick up Straton's case of flights along the way.
The shop's door was ajar, though the opening hour painted on it hadn't come yet. Inside, the smith was hunched over a mug of tea, a crossbow's trigger mechanism dismantled before him on a split of suede, scowling at the crossbow's guts spread upon his counter as if at a recalcitrant child. He looked up when they entered, wished them a better morning than he'd had so far this day, and went to get Straton's case of nights. Behind the counter an assortment of high-torque bows was hung. When Marc returned with the wooden case, Straton pointed: 'That's Niko's isn't it - or are my eyes that bad?'
'I'm holding it for him, until he pays,' explained the smith with the unflinching gaze.
'We'll pay for it now and he can pick it up from me,' Crit said.
'I don't know if he'd ...' Marc, half into someone else's business, stepped back out of it with a nod of head: 'All right, then, if you want. I'll tell him you've got it. That's four soldats, three ... I've done a lot of work on it for him. Shall I tell him to seek you at the guild hostel?'
'Thereabouts.'
Taking it down from the wall, the smith wound and levered, then dry-fired the crossbow, its mechanism to his ear. A smile came over his face at what he heard.
'Good enough, then,' he declared and wrapped it in its case of padded hide. This way, Straton realized, Niko would come direct to Crit and report when Marc told him what they'd done.
By the time dawn had cracked the world's egg, Tempus as well as Jihan was sated, even tired. For a man who chased sleep like other men chased power or women, it was wondrous that this was so. For a being only recently become woman, it was a triumph. They walked back towards the Stepsons' barracks, following the creekbed, all pink and gold in sunrise, content and even playful, his chuckle and her occasional laugh startling sleepy squirrels and flushing birds from their nests. .
He'd been morose, but she'd cured it, convincing him that life might take a better turn, if he'd just let it. They'd spoken of her father, called Stormbringer in lieu of name, and arcane matters of their joint preoccupation: whether humanity had inherent value, whether gods could die or merely lie, whether Vashanka was hiding out somewhere, petulant in godhead, only waiting for generous sacrificers and heartfelt prayers to coax him back among his Rankan people - or, twelfth plane powers forfend, really 'dead'. He'd spoken openly to her of his affliction, reminding her that those who loved him died by violence and those he loved were bound to spurn him, and what that could mean in the case of his Stepsons, and herself, if Vashanka's power did not return to mitigate his curse. He'd told her of his plea to Enlil, an ancient deity of universal scope, and that he awaited godsign. She'd been relieved at that, afraid, she admitted, that the lord of dreams might tempt him from her side. For when Askelon the dream lord had come to take Tempus's sister off to his metaphysical kingdom of delights, he'd offered the brother the boon of mortality. Now that she'd just found him, Jihan had added throatily, she could not bear it if he chose to die. And she'd
'We're not going back out.'
'I am.'
'To look for Niko'! Where?
'Niko and Janni. And I don't know where. But if that pair hasn't turned up those youngsters yet, it's no simple adolescent prank or graduation romp. Let's hope it's just that their meet with Roxane took precedence and it's inopportune for them to leave her.' Crit stood.
Straton didn't.
'Coming?' Crit asked.
'Somebody should be where authority is expected to be found. You should be here or at the hostel, not chasing after someone who might be chasing after you.'
So in the end, Straton won that battle and they went up to the hostel, stopping, since the sun had risen, at Marc's to pick up Straton's case of flights along the way.
The shop's door was ajar, though the opening hour painted on it hadn't come yet. Inside, the smith was hunched over a mug of tea, a crossbow's trigger mechanism dismantled before him on a split of suede, scowling at the crossbow's guts spread upon his counter as if at a recalcitrant child. He looked up when they entered, wished them a better morning than he'd had so far this day, and went to get Straton's case of nights. Behind the counter an assortment of high-torque bows was hung. When Marc returned with the wooden case, Straton pointed: 'That's Niko's isn't it - or are my eyes that bad?'
'I'm holding it for him, until he pays,' explained the smith with the unflinching gaze.
'We'll pay for it now and he can pick it up from me,' Crit said.
'I don't know if he'd ...' Marc, half into someone else's business, stepped back out of it with a nod of head: 'All right, then, if you want. I'll tell him you've got it. That's four soldats, three ... I've done a lot of work on it for him. Shall I tell him to seek you at the guild hostel?'
'Thereabouts.'
Taking it down from the wall, the smith wound and levered, then dry-fired the crossbow, its mechanism to his ear. A smile came over his face at what he heard.
'Good enough, then,' he declared and wrapped it in its case of padded hide. This way, Straton realized, Niko would come direct to Crit and report when Marc told him what they'd done.
By the time dawn had cracked the world's egg, Tempus as well as Jihan was sated, even tired. For a man who chased sleep like other men chased power or women, it was wondrous that this was so. For a being only recently become woman, it was a triumph. They walked back towards the Stepsons' barracks, following the creekbed, all pink and gold in sunrise, content and even playful, his chuckle and her occasional laugh startling sleepy squirrels and flushing birds from their nests. .
He'd been morose, but she'd cured it, convincing him that life might take a better turn, if he'd just let it. They'd spoken of her father, called Stormbringer in lieu of name, and arcane matters of their joint preoccupation: whether humanity had inherent value, whether gods could die or merely lie, whether Vashanka was hiding out somewhere, petulant in godhead, only waiting for generous sacrificers and heartfelt prayers to coax him back among his Rankan people - or, twelfth plane powers forfend, really 'dead'. He'd spoken openly to her of his affliction, reminding her that those who loved him died by violence and those he loved were bound to spurn him, and what that could mean in the case of his Stepsons, and herself, if Vashanka's power did not return to mitigate his curse. He'd told her of his plea to Enlil, an ancient deity of universal scope, and that he awaited godsign. She'd been relieved at that, afraid, she admitted, that the lord of dreams might tempt him from her side. For when Askelon the dream lord had come to take Tempus's sister off to his metaphysical kingdom of delights, he'd offered the brother the boon of mortality. Now that she'd just found him, Jihan had added throatily, she could not bear it if he chose to die. And she'd
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