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Thieves World.
Soul of the City.
by Robert Lynn Asprin.
Dramatis Personae
The Townspeople
AHDIOVIZUN; AHDIOMER viz; AHDIO, Proprietor of Sty'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.
OANNER, Their middle son, slain during the False Plague riots of the previous winter.
VANDA, Their daughter, employed as maid-servant to the Beysib at the palace.
WEDEMIR, Their son and eldest child.
DUBRO, Bazaar blacksmith and husband to Illyra.
ILLYRA, Half-blood S'danzo seeress with True Sight. Hounded by PFLS in the False Plague.
ARTON, Their son, marked by the G.o.ds and magic as part of an emerging divinity known as the Stormchildren. Sent to the Bandaran Isles for his safety and education.
ULLIS, Their daughter, slain in the False Plague riots.
HAKIEM, Storyteller and confidant extraordinaire.
JUBAL, Prematurely aged former gladiator. Once he openly ran Sanctuary's most visible criminal organization, the Hawkmasks. Now he works behind the scenes.
SALIMAN, His aide and only friend.
MAMA BECHO, Owner of a particularly disreputable tavern in Downwind.
MASHA ZIL-INEEL, Midwife whose involvement with the destruction of the Purple Mage enabled her to move from the Maze to respectability uptown.
MORIA, One-time Hawkmask and servant to Ischade. She was physically transformed into a Rankan n.o.blewoman by Haught.
MYRTIS, Madam of the Aphrodesia House.
SHAFRALAIN, Sanctuary n.o.bleman who can trace his lineage and his money back to the days of llsig's glory.
ESARIA, His daughter.
EXPIMILIA, His wife.
CUSHARLAIN, His cousin. A customs inspector and investigator.
SNAPPER JO, A fiend who survived the destruction of magic in Sanctuary.
STILCHO, Once one of Ischade's resurrected minions, he was "cured" of death when magic was purged from Sanctuary.
ZIP, Bitter young terrorist. Leader of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Sanctuary (PFLS).
The Magicians HAUGHT, One-time apprentice of Ischade who betrayed her and is now trapped in a warded house with Roxane.
ISCHADE, Necromancer and thief. Her curse is pa.s.sed to her lovers who die from it.
ROXANE; DEATH'S QUEEN, Nisibisi witch. Nearly destroyed when Stormbringer purged magic from Sanctuary, she is trapped inside a warded house and a dead man's body.
Others THERON, New military Emperor. An usurper placed on the throne with the aid ofTempus and his allies. He has commanded that Sanctuary's walls must be rebuilt by the next New Year Festival.
The Rankans living in Sanctuary CHENAYA; DAUGHTER OF THE SUN, Daughter of LOW an Vigeles, a beautiful and powerful young woman who is fated never to lose a fight. DAYRNE, Her companion and trainer.
LEYN, OUUEN, DISMAS AND GESTUS, Her friends and fellow gladiators.
GYSKOURAS, One of the Stormchildren, currently in the Bandar an Isles for education.
PRINCE KADAKITHIS, Charismatic but somewhat naive half-brother of the recently a.s.sa.s.sinated Emperor, Abakithis.
DAPHNE, His estranged wife, living with Chenaya's gladiators at Land's End.
KAMA; JES, Tempus' daughter. 3rd Commando a.s.sa.s.sin. Sometime lover of both Zip and Molin Torchholder.
LOWAN VIGELES, Half-brother of Molin Torchholder, father of Chenaya, a wealthy aristocrat self-exiled to Sanctuary. Owner of the Land's End Estate.
MOLIN TORCHHOLDER; TORCH, Archpriest and architect of Vashanka; Guardian of the Stormchildren.
ROSANDA, His estranged wife, living at Land's End.
RANKAN 3RD COMMANDO, Mercenary company founded by Tempus Thales and noted for its brutal efficiency.
SYNC, Commander of the 3rd.
RASHAN; THE EYE OF THE SAVANKALA, Priest and Judge of Sanvankala. Highest ranking Rankan in Sanctuary prior to the arrival of the Prince, now allied with Chenaya's disaffected Rankans at Land's End.
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.
RANDAL; WITCHY-EARS, The only mage ever trusted by Tempus or admitted into the Sacred Band.
STRATON; STRAT; ACE, Rightside partner of Critias. Injured by the PFLS at the start of the False Plague riots.
TASFALEN LANCOTHIS, Jaded n.o.bleman, slain by Ischade's curse, then resurrected by Haught. His body has become Roxane's prison.
TEMPOS THALES; THE RIDDLER, Nearly immortal mercenary, a partner of Vashanka before that G.o.d's demise; commander of the Stepsons; cursed with a fatal inability to give or receive love.
WALEGRIN, Rankan army officer a.s.signed to the Sanctuary garrison where his father had been slain by the S'danzo many years before.
The G.o.ds DYAREELA, A G.o.ddess whose worship in Sanctuary predates the Ilsigi presence and which has been outlawed many times since then.
HARRAN, Physician and priest to Siveni Gray-Eyes, now part of her four-fold divinity.
MRIGA, Mindless and crippled woman elevated to four-fold divinity with Siveni Gray-Eyes.
SABELLIA, Mother G.o.ddess for the Rankan Empire.
SAVANKALA, Father G.o.d for the Rankan Empire.
SIVENI GRAY-EYES, Ilsigi G.o.ddess of wisdom, medicine and defense, now transformed into a four-fold diety.
SHIPRI, Mother G.o.ddess of the old Ilsigi kingdom.
STORMBRINGER, Primal stormG.o.dlwarG.o.d. The pattern for all other such G.o.ds, he is not, himself, the object of organized worship.
JIHAN, Froth Daughter. His parthenogenic offspring, betrothed to the Stepson's mage, Randal.
The Beysib
SHUPANSEA; SHU-SEA, Head of the Beysib exiles in Sanctuary; mortal avatar of the Beysib mother G.o.ddess.
POWER PLAY.
Janet Morris.
Tempus, a mercenary general in the service of Ranke's new emperor, was knee-deep in the b.l.o.o.d.y purges marking the first winter of Theron's accession to the Rankan throne when the sky above the walled city began to weep black tears.
By the time dawn should have broken, ashen clouds ma.s.sed to the very vault of heaven so that not even the Sun G.o.d's sharpest rays could pierce the arrayed armies of the night. The city of Ranke, once the brightest jewel of the Rankan empire, shuddered in the dark, her ochre walls stained dusky from the storm's black and ugly might.
Thunder growled; winds yowled. Black hail pelted Theron's palace, shattering windows and pounding doors. On temple streets and cultured byways it bounced, sharp as diamonds and large as heads, bringing impious priests to their knees and cheap n.o.bles to charity in slick streets covered with greasy slush freezing to ice as black, some said, as their emperor Theron's heart.
For all knew that Theron had come to power in a coup instigated by the armies-he was a creature of blood, a wild beast of the battlefield. And the proof of this was in the allies who had brought him to the Imperial palace: Nisibisi witches, demons of the black beyond, devils of horrid aspect, even the feared near immortals of the blood cults-Askelon, the lord of dreams, and his brother-in-law Tempus, demiG.o.d and favorite son of Vashanka, the Rankan warG.o.d, to name but two- had lent their strength to Theron's cause.
Did not Tempus still labor at his gory task of purging the disloyal-all who had been influential in Abakithis's court? Did not women still wake to empty beds and find pouches made of human skin and filled with thirty gold soldats (the Rankan price for one human life) nailed to their boudoir doors?
Did not those few remaining adherents of Abakithis, former emperor of Ranke (now deceased, unavenged, much cursed in his uneasy grave), still scuttle even through the deadly, knife-sharp hail with bulging pockets to the mercenaries'
guildhall to leave their fortunes at the desk with scrawled notes saying, "For Tempus, to distribute as he wills, from the admiring and loyal family of So-and So," while servants spirited n.o.ble wives and children out back ways and slumyard gates in beggars' guise?
Thus it was whispered, as the storm raged unabated into its second day, that Theron and his creature Tempus were to blame for this black blizzard straight from h.e.l.l.
It was whispered by a woman to Critias, Tempus's first officer and finest covert actor, who had infiltrated the n.o.ble strata of the imperial city; And Crit, with a wry twitch of lips that drew down his patrician nose and a rake of his swordhand through dark, feathery hair, replied to the governor's wife he was bedding: "No one gives a contract for a sunrise, m'lady. No man. that is.
Theron is no more than that. When G.o.ds throw tantrums, even Tempus listens."
Crit had fought in the Wizard Wars up north and the woman knew it. His guise was that of a disaffected officer who had renounced his commission after Abakithis's a.s.sa.s.sination at the Festival of Man and now, like so many others of the old guard, scrambled from allegiance to allegiance in search of safety.
So the governor's wife just ran a finger along his jaw and smiled commiseratingly as she said, "You men of the armies ... all alike. I suppose you're telling me that this is good? This storm, this hail black as h.e.l.l? That it's a sign we poor women cannot read?"
And (thinking of the prognosticators-bits of hair and silver and bone and luck nestled in the pouch dangling from his belt that, with the rest of his clothes, lay in a heap at the foot of another man's bed) Crit replied in Court Rankene, "When the Storm G.o.d returns to the armies, wars can be won-not just fought interminably. Without Him, we've just been marking time. If He's angry, He'll let us know on what account. And I'd bet it won't be Theron's-or Tempus's. One's a general whom the soldiers chose exactly because the G.o.d had abandoned us during Abakithis's reign; the other is..."
It was not the woman's hand, reaching low, which made him pause. She wanted Crit's protection; information was what he'd sought here in return. And gotten what he'd come for, and more from this one-all a Rankan lady had to give. So he thought-in a moment of unaccustomed tenderness for one who would likely entertain, on his account, the crowds who'd throng the execution stands when the weather broke-to explain to her about Tempus. About what and who the man Crit had sworn to serve was, and was not.
He settled for "... Tempus is what Father Enlil-Lord Storm to the armies-wills, and cursed more than Ranke and all her enemies put together. By G.o.ds and men, by magic and mages. If there's h.e.l.l to pay because of Theron's reign, rest a.s.sured, lady, it's he who'll suffer in all our steads."
The Rankan woman, from the look on her face and the hunger on her lips, had lost interest in the subject. But Crit had not. When he left her, he marked her door with a sign for the palace police without even a second thought to the fine body behind it which would soon be lifeless.
The sky was still black as a witch's crotch and the wind was chorusing its judgment song in a many-throated voice Crit had heard occasionally on the battlefield when Tempus's non-human allies took a hand in this skirmish or that choraling the way it used to when wizard weather blew in Sanctuary, where Crit's partner and his brothers of the Sacred Band were now, down at the empire's most foul and egregious southernmost appurtenance.
By the time Crit had retrieved his horse, his fingers were playing with the luck charms in his beltpouch. Normally, he'd have pulled them out, squatted down, shaken and thrown them in the straw for guidance.
But the storm was guidance enough; he didn't need to ask a question he wouldn't like the answer to. If his partner Strat had been on his right tonight, he'd have bet his friend any odds that, when the weather broke, Tempus would come rousting Crit without so much as an explanation and they'd be heading south to Sanctuary where the Sacred Band was quartered for the winter.
Not that he didn't want to see Strat-he did. Not that he wasn't happy that the Storm G.o.d Vashanka, G.o.d of the Annies, of Rape and Pillage, of Bloodl.u.s.t and Fury and Death's Gate, was manifest-he was. What he'd told the Rankan b.i.t.c.h was true-you couldn't win a war without your G.o.d. But Vashanka, the Rankan Storm G.o.d, had deserted the Stepsons, Crit's unit, in their need. So the unit had taken up with another, perhaps greater, G.o.d: Father Enlil.
And the black, roiling clouds above, the voices which spoke thunder over the fighter's head, were telling a man who didn't like G.o.ds much better than magic and who was first officer to a demiG.o.d who meddled with both, that Vashanka might not be too pleased with the fickle men who once had slaughtered in His name and now did so in Another's.
Things were so d.a.m.ned complicated whenever Tempus was .involved.
Grabbing a tuft of mane, Crit swung up on his warhorse and reined it around so hard it half-reared and then, finding itself headed toward the mercenaries'
guild and its own stall, safety and comfort in the storm, fairly bolted through the treacherous, slushy streets of Ranke.
Despite the darkened ways and chancy footing, Crit let the young horse run, trusting pedestrians, should there be any, to scatter, and armed patrols to recognize him for who and what he was. The horse had a right to comfort, where it could find some. Crit couldn't think of a thing that would do the same for him, now that the G.o.ds had dropped one shoe and all he could do was wait until Tempus dropped the other.