The Dead of Winter tw-7

  The Dead of Winter

  ( Thievs World - 7 )

  Robert Lynn Asprin

  Robert Lynn Asprin

  The Dead of Winter

  Dramatis Personae

  The Townspeople:

  Ahdiovizun; Ahdiomer Viz; Ahdio Proprietor of Sly's Place, a legendary dive within the Maze.

  Lalo the Limner

  Street artist gifted with magic he does not fully understand.

  Gilla His indomitable wife.

  Alfi Their youngest son.

  Latilla Their daughter.

  Vanda Their daughter.

  Wedemir Their son and eldest child.

  Dubro Bazaar blacksmith and husband to Illyra.

  Illyra Half-blood S'danzo seeress with True Sight.

  Arton Their son, marked by the gods and magic as part of an emerging divinity known as the Storm Children.

  Hakiem Storyteller and confidant extraordinaire.

  Harran Overworked surgeon for the false Stepsons and one-time priest of the nearly forgotten goddess, Siveni.

  Jubal Prematurely aged former gladiator. Once he openly ran Sanctuary's most visible criminal organization, the Hawkmasks. Now he works behind the scenes.

  Kurd Vivisectionist slain by Tempus upon whom he had performed some of his viler experiments.

  Lastel; One Thumb Proprietor of the Vulgar Unicorn. Betrayed by local magicians, he spent a small eternity in death's embrace. Freed when Cime wreaked havoc on the local Mageguild, he is a shadow of his former self.

  Moruth King of the Downwind beggars. Myrtis-Madam of the Aphrodisia House.

  Tamzen Young woman, daughter of a tavernkeeper, who loved Niko and was killed by Roxane.

  Zip Bitter young terrorist. Leader of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Sanctuary (PFLS).

  The Magicians:

  Askelon The Entelechy of Dreams, a magician so powerful that the gods have set him apart from men to rule in Meridian, the source of dreams.

  Datan Supreme of the Nisibisi wizards; slain by the Stepsons and Randal. His globe of power, which now belongs to Randal, was the foremost of such artifacts manufactured along Wizardwall.

  Enas Yorl Quasi-immortal mage cursed with eternal life and constantly changing physical form.

  Ischade Necromancer and thief. Her curse is passed to her lovers who die from it.

  Haught Her apprentice. A Nisibisi dancer and freed slave.

  Mor-am Her servant. A Hawkmask she saved from certain death, whose pain and torment she holds at bay in exchange for other services.

  Moria Mor-am's sister, also a Hawkmask but now the somewhat alcoholic chatelaine of Ischade's uptown establishment.

  Stilcho One of the Sanctuary natives chosen to replace the Stepsons when they followed Tempus to Wizardwall. He was tortured and killed by Moruth, then reanimated by Ischade.

  Roxane; Death's Queen Nisibisi witch. Heiress to all Nisi power and enemies.

  Snapper Jo A fiend summoned and controlled by Roxane.

  Others:

  Bashir A Free Nisi fighter and ally of the Stepsons during their sojourn at Wizardwall.

  Brachis Supreme Archpriest of Vashanka, companion of Theron.

  Mradhon Vis Nisibisi mercenary, adventurer and occasional spy.

  Theron New military Emperor. An usurper placed on the throne with the aid of Tempus and his allies.

  The Rankans living in Sanctuary:

  Chenaya; Daughter of the Sun Daughter of Lowan Vigeles, a beautiful and powerful young woman who is fated never to lose a fight. Dayrne-Her companion and trainer.

  Gyskouras One of the Storm Children, conceived during an ill-fated Ritual of the Ten-Slaying, a commemoration of Vashanka's vengeance on his brothers.

  Seylalha His mother, a temple dancer chosen to be Azyuna in the Ritual of the Ten-Slaying.

  Prince Kadakithis Charismatic but somewhat naive half-brother of the recently assassinated Emperor, Abakithis.

  Daphne His official wife, missing since the arrival of the Beysib.

  Lowan Vigeles Half-brother of Molin Torchholder, father of Chenaya, a wealthy aristocrat self-exiled to Sanctuary in the wake of Abakithis' assassination.

  Molin Torchholder; Torch Archpriest and architect of Vashanka; Guardian of the Storm Children.

  Rosanda His wife.

  Rankan 3rd Commando Mercenary company founded by Tempus Thales and noted for its brutal efficiency.

  Kama; Jes Tempus' barely acknowledged daughter.

  Sync Commander of the 3rd.

  Rashan; the Eye of Savankala Priest and Judge of Savankala. Highest-ranking Rankan in Sanctuary prior to the arrival of the Prince.

  Razkuli Hell Hound slain for vengeance by Tempus.

  Stepsons; Sacred Banders Members of a mercenary unit founded by Abarsis who willed their allegiance to Tempus Thales after his own death.

  Critias; Crit Leftside leader paired with Straton. Second in command after Tempus.

  Janni Nikodemos' rightside partner; tortured and killed by Roxane.

  Nikodemos; Niko; Stealth Bandaran Adept skilled in mental and martial disciplines. Once a captive of Roxane and Datan.

  Randal; Witchy-Ears The only mage ever trusted by Tempus or admitted into the Sacred Band.

  Straton; Strat; Ace Rightside partner of Critias. Enamored of Ischade and, so far, immune to her curse.

  Tempus Thales; the Riddler Nearly immortal mercenary, a partner of Vashanka before that god's demise; commander of the Stepsons; cursed with a fatal inability to give or receive love.

  Walegrin Rankan army officer assigned to the Sanctuary garrison where his father had been slain by the S'danzo many years before.

  Zalbar Captain of the Hell-Hounds which, since the arrival of the Beysib exiles, have lost most of their influence.

  The Gods:

  Enlil Storm God/wargod for the more recently conquered Northern parts of the Rankan Empire.

  Mriga Mindless and crippled woman elevated to divinity during Harran's abortive attempt to resurrect Siveni Gray-Eyes.

  Sabellia Mother goddess for the Rankan Empire. Savankala-Father god for the Rankan Empire.

  Siveni Gray-Eyes Ilsigi goddess of wisdom, medicine and defense.

  Stormbringer Primal Storm God/wargod. The pattern for all other such gods, he is not, himself, the object of organized worship.

  Vashanka Storm God/wargod of the original Rankan lands; vanquished and exiled beyond the reach of his onetime worshippers.

  The Beysib:

  Monkel Setmur Young chief of clan Setmur, an extended kinship of fishermen and sailors.

  Shupansea; Shu-sea Head of the Beysib exiles in Sanctuary; mortal avatar of the Beysib mother goddess.

  INTRODUCTION by Robert Lynn Asprin

  "You may remove your blindfold now, old one."

  Even as he fumbled with the knot binding the strip of cloth over his eyes, Hakiem knew much of his surroundings. His nose told him that he was in one of Sanctuary's numerous brothels ... though exactly which one he was unsure of. At his advanced age he did not frequent the town's houses of ill-repute even though he could now easily have afforded them, and therefore he was unfamiliar with their individual nuances. The memories of his youth, however, still lingered strong enough for him to recognize the generic aroma of a dwelling where women sold sex for a living and the incense used in a vain attempt to disguise that profession.

  More important than the room's location was its inhabitant, and Hakiem had good reason to recognize the voice that now instructed him. It was Jubal, once Sanctuary's crimelord ... now the underground leader of one of the armed factions that fought overtly and covertly for control of the city.

  "It takes
longer to reach you these days," Hakiem said with a casualness that bordered on insolence as he removed his blindfold.

  Jubal was sprawled across a large, throne-like chair which Hakiem recognized from earlier days when the black ex-gladiator/slaver had openly operated out of his Downwind mansion. He wondered briefly what it had taken to retrieve that piece of furniture; the Stepsons had attacked the dwelling, driven the crimelord into hiding. Of course, the "ersatz" Stepsons had been there for a while, which might have made the recovery easier ... but that would have to be a story to be purloined on another day.

  "These are dangerous times," Jubal said without a trace of apology. "One as observant as yourself must surely have noticed that, even though you have seldom relayed such information to me since your promotion."

  Hakiem felt vaguely uncomfortable at this subtle accusation. He knew that he had long enjoyed favored status in Jubal's eyes, and at one time would have tentatively called him a friend. Now, however ...

  "I have brought someone to meet you," he said, striving to shift the conversation away from himself. "Allow me to present ..."

  "You would not have reached me if I hadn't known both that you were accompanied by someone and that person's identity," Jubal interrupted. "All that remains to be discovered is the motive for this visit. You may remove your blindfold as well. Lord Setmur. My earlier instruction was meant for both of you."

  Hakiem's companion hastily removed his eye covering and stood squinting nervously.

  "I ... I wasn't sure, and thought it better to err on the side of caution."

  "A sentiment we both share," Jubal said with a smile. "Now tell me, why would one of you Beysib interlopers, much less the head of the Setmur clan of fishermen, seek an audience with a lowly Sanctuarite such as myself? I am neither noble nor fisherman, and it's been my impression that the Beysib are interested in little else in our town."

  Hakiem felt a moment of sympathy for the little Beysib. Monkel Setmur was unaccustomed to dealing with those who specialized in words, much less those who habitually honed their tongues to razor-sharpness. It was clear that Jubal was in a bad mood and ready to vent his annoyance on his hapless visitor.

  "Surely you can't hold Monkel here responsible for ..."

  "Stay out of this, old one," Jubal snapped, stopping Hakiem's attempted defense with a suddenly pointing finger. "Speaking for the Beysib has become a habit with you which would be better broken. I wish to hear Lord Setmur's thoughts directly."

  Sketching a bow so formal it reeked of sarcasm, Hakiem lapsed into silence. In truth, he himself was curious about the reason behind Monkel's visit. The Beysib had sought out Hakiem to arrange an audience with Jubal, but had steadfastly refused to reveal his motive.

  The Beysib licked his lips nervously, then locked gazes with the ex-crimelord and straightened his back proudly.

  "One hears that you have power in the streets of Sanctuary ... and that of the gang leaders, you are the only one whose favor can be bought."

  Hakiem winced inwardly. If Monkel had intended to make an enemy of Jubal, he could not have picked a better opening gambit. The diplomat in him wanted to close his eyes and avoid the sight of Jubal's response to this insult, but the storyteller part of him required that he witness every detail and nuance.

  To his surprise, Jubal did not immediately lash out in anger ... either verbally or physically.

  "That is a common misconception," he said instead, nodding slowly. "In truth, I am simply more open about my interest in money than most. There are some causes or chores which even I and my forces will not touch ... regardless of the fee."

  The head of the Setmur clan sagged slightly at this news. His gaze dropped, and as he replied, his voice was lacking the edge of confidence and arrogance it had held earlier.

  "If by that you mean you wish to have nothing to do with my people, then I will waste no more of your time. It had been my intention to ask for your protection for the Beysib here in Sanctuary. In return, I was willing to pay handsomely ... either a flat fee or, if you wished, a percentage of my clan's revenues."

  In his head, Hakiem damned Monkel for his secrecy. If only the little fisherman had asked his counsel before they were in Jubal's presence. On the surface the proposal seemed reasonable enough, except.... It was common knowledge in town that Jubal had long sought to obtain a foothold on Sanctuary's wharfs, but that to date he had been forestalled by the tight unity of the fishing community. Apparently this common knowledge had escaped the ears of Lord Setmur. Either that or he was unaware of the fragility of the union between his clan and the local fishermen. If the local captains discovered that he was offering Jubal an opening to drive a wedge into the fishing community in exchange for safety ...

  "Your request is not unreasonable, and the price you offer is tempting," Jubal said thoughtfully, the earlier note of mockery in his voice gone now. "Unfortunately I am not in a position to enter into such a negotiation. Please accept my assurance that this is not because I hold a grudge against your people, but rather that I would be unable to fulfill my part of the bargain."

  "But I thought ..." Monkel began, but Jubal waved him to silence.

  "Let me explain the current situation to you, Lord Setmur, as I see it. The city is currently a battlefield. Many factions are fighting for control of the streets. Though it may seem that the Beysib are the target of this violence, they are more often than not innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of the real war."

  Jubal was leaning forward in his chair now, his eyes burning with intensity as he warmed to the subject.

  "If I were to guarantee the safety of your people, it would mean openly committing my troops to your defense. Anyone who wanted to attack me would soon learn that all that was necessary would be to attack the Beysib. whereupon my forces would emerge from hiding to receive the brunt of the attack. In short, rather than relieving you of your enemies, your proposed deal would simply add my enemies to yours ... a situation less than favorable to the Beysib. As for me, I cannot afford to have my fighting strength eroded away by becoming predictable. My current activities are more covert in nature, playing each faction off against the others so that they will be weakened as I grow stronger. When I am confident that there is sufficient inequity of power to assure a victory, my forces will sweep the streets and restore order once again. At that time, we wi!l be able to discuss terms of coexistence. Until then, you are best to heed the advice of people such as Hakiem here in regards to which faction holds which neighborhood, and plan your movements accordingly. Such information is readily enough available that there is no need to pay my prices for it."

  "I see," Monkel said softly. "In that case, I thank you for your time ..."

  "Not so hasty. Lord Setmur," Jubal interrupted with a smile. "I occasionally deal in currency other than gold. Now, I have given you some new and honest information. Could I trouble you to respond in kind?"

  "But ..." the little Beysib shot a confused glance at Hakiem in silent appeal for guidance. "What information could I possibly have that would interest you? All I know is fishing."

  "I am still learning about the Beysib," Jubal said. "Specifically, about how they think. For example, it occurs to me that the fishing clan of Setmur has suffered few casualties in the street wars when compared to the losses experienced by the royal clan Burek. 1 am therefore surprised that the request for my protection comes from you rather than a representative of the clan suffering the most from the current civil upheaval. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to this seeming contradiction?"

  Monkel was taken aback. Apparently it had never occurred to him that he would have to explain his motives to Jubal.

  "Could ... could it not be that the loss of any countryman concerns me? That clan Setmur stands ready to pay the price for the good of all?"

  "It could be," Jubal acknowledged. "Though it would mean that your people are considerably more noble than mine ... particularly when the poorer stand ready to pay for the protection of the richer. I had
thought that the reason might possibly be that you suddenly had reason to be personally interested in the safety of clan Burek ... say, specifically, the safety of one member of that clan? A guardswoman, perhaps?"

  Monkel simply gaped, unable to respond. As a relative newcomer to Sanctuary, he had not expected Jubal's information network to include his own personal activities. As head of one of the two clans of invaders, he should have known better.

  "If that were indeed the case," Jubal continued smoothly, "we might yet work something out. The safety of one person I could guarantee."

  "... At a reduced rate, of course," Hakiem said, risking Jubal's wrath but unable to hold his silence.

  "Of course," Jubal echoed without releasing the Beysib from his gaze. "Well, Lord Setmur?"

  "I ... I would have to think about it," Monkel managed at last. "I hadn't considered this possibility."

  "Very well," Jubal said briskly. "Take your time. If you wish to discuss the matter further, wear a red neck scarf. One of my agents will identify himself to you with the word Guardswoman and lead you to my current headquarters. While Hakiem here is trustworthy enough, there is no need for you to have to contact me through him. The fewer who know when we meet and how often ... much less what is discussed, the better it will be for both of us."

  "I ... thank you."

  "Now then, if you would wait in the next room, my man Saliman will see to your needs. I would like a few words alone with Hakiem."

  Hakiem waited until the door had closed behind the little Beysib before speaking.

  "Well, it seems I have led yet another fly into your web, Jubal."

  Instead of replying to this insolence, Jubal studied the ex-storyteller for several moments in silence.

  "What distresses you, old one?" he said finally. "I dealt fairly with your fish eyed companion, even to the point of admitting my own weaknesses and limitations. Still your words and stance reek of disapproval, as they have since you first entered the room. Have I done or said something to offend you?"