Shadowspawn (Thieves' World Book 4) by Andrew J. Offutt

Author:Andrew J. Offutt [Offutt, Andrew J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Venture Press
Published: 2017-02-28T18:30:00+00:00

“In a way the Hearthkeepers have the most power of anyone in Firaqa,” Lallias said. “They are the court of very last resort and appeal in life-and-death cases.”

“Um. Lallias…you said ‘in a way.’ The Hearthkeepers don’t rule, and I gather the High Priest doesn’t either. Assuming there is one, I mean. It doesn’t much matter to such fellows as you and I are, but I don’t know anything at all about the power in Firaqa. Who does rule?”

Lallias made a snorting noise. “Aye, there’s plenty of sacerdotes — priests — and a high one, too. There’s also a Chief Magistrate, but he doesn’t rule. He judges and Decides. Then there’s the Council, but they don’t rule, either. They meet and act important and decide about streetwork and edicts and zoning and like that. The real power, I say power, Hanse, in Firaqa is divided between sor — what’s that racket?”

That rattling racket was a driverless wagon careening up a side-street behind a runaway horse with huge manic eyes. Horse and wagon came clop-rattling around the comer. It nearly tipped over, strewing nice fresh melons along the street, as the animal swerved. Its new course happened to be directly at the two men crossing the street.

Hanse moved as fast as ever he had in his life.

Lallias did not, and was trampled.

The horse seemed not to notice. With blood bright and wet on its legs and hooves, it fled on.

Safely out of the way, Hanse swung back and resisted the impulse to charge after the wagon. He was not much on being the hero without reason, and saw no particular reason to try pouncing onto that runaway cart to grab up the reins. It wasn’t as if it contained a screaming beautiful damsel in distress! He wasted no more than a glance on the yelling, arm-waving man who came running, pursued by two Reds. The driver, Hanse assumed, and squatted beside his guide. Lallias lay twisted in a miserably ugly posture, with two limbs and his head turned the wrong way. He was also no longer Hanse’s guide, because he was no longer alive.

A shaken Hanse rose from the dead man. He took a step, and suddenly was sweaty all over, with a light-headed feeling. An instant later he was obliged to sit down, very suddenly. He sat there in shock, beside the corpse of his guide, in the street. Dimly he heard, without registering or responding, all the excited people-noises: “Are you all right?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Are they hurt? What happened?”

“Argh, smoke and embers! Look at that one’s neck!”

Dully Hanse saw some fellow race into the street a block down and pounce onto the wagon, well ahead of the running driver and two Watchmen. The man’s bellowed cries of “WHOA” came clearly to Hanse’s ears.

“How heroic!”

“Did you see that?”

“Is he hurt? Why’s he just sit there?”

Just what the world needs, Hanse thought dully. More heroes.

“Are you all right?”

“Is he hurt?”

“Are you hurt?”

“This one must be in shock; t’other fellow’s dead; tromped. What

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