The price of victory- - Thieves World 13 Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Robert Asprin
I should, I suppose, I mean. Do you want anything? To drink,
or . . ." Her voice trailed off, her confusion overwhelming her. He
turned to look at her.
She was attractive in a way. Her face was round, but thin. Her features seemed somehow disjointed, as if a thin veil covered them. Her eyes darted about, not meeting his gaze. But they were her best feature. Brown in an ordinary way, now filled with knowledge and taut pain. She was pretty, her bare shoulder showing in the disarrayed dress. She was pretty. The thought surprised him. It was the sadness, always the sad ness-When he saw it in women he could never turn from it, never ignore it; it always made them so pretty. He hoped his vengeance would cause
her no more . . . sadness.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. They both knew what he meant.
Page 36
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"Wine?" she asked, letting the moment pass.
"Wine." He followed her into the dining area, seating himself at the scarred wooden table. She handed him a goblet, the best she had. He poured the wine; the sound of the goblet filling reverberated loudly in the room. He put the decanter down, not looking at her, not touching the
drink.
"You said in your letter," his voice was husky, "you said that Terrel
was involved with the PFLS."
"I, Terrel . . ." She bowed her head. "I, yes. He ... helped."
"Money?"
CADE 23
"A little. He didn't like the Rankans"—her voice got softer—"but he wasn't really involved, not in a ... he didn't deserve . . ." but it was too much and she could say no more.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "Neither of us like Rankans. Mother al ways said they killed our father. He wore this."—he touched his war Page 37
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braid—"my father did."
"Cade." She dared to look up, but couldn't meet his steady gaze.
"Terrel, he—" She stopped. Could you talk of love to such a man?
Cade stood up. "I will get my things. You have a room for me?" She just nodded. "Good. Sarah, we will talk later. I am here. I cannot take away what has happened, but I am here. You need never fear." With that he was gone. She sat there staring at the goblet. She should get up, show him the room, the room she had prepared, prepared months ago, but he would find it, know it was for him.
The dim light from the window glinted off the enamel overlay of the goblet. He was . . . Terrel had never said much about Cade, not Cade as a man. He was full of stories of their childhood, of the slow decline into poverty, of the family holding itself together fiercely, as all around them melted into the grayness of despair. Terrel had said that Cade was the stronger. A fighter. Nothing could beat Cade.
But who was this man, this man with his weapons and armor clanking about him, his ridiculous warbraid—who wore those anymore? She knew so little of him. Terrel had said he was some sort of warrior, but rich. She knew that. He had set Terrel up in business, bought this house. Money, yes, but ... a shiver caught her by surprise.
His eyes, that's what it was. Not the scars of the sword, or even his Page 38
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strange way of talking. It was his eyes. She could see them clearly, re flected in the odd light of the goblet, framed by the hard lined face, the thick heavy brows, the impossibly black hair. His eyes. They were black, black like Terrel's, but ...
She reached out and grabbed the goblet. His eyes, they were like weap ons, spearing her, attacking everything they focused on, jabbing about, terrifying. She put the goblet down in front of her. It was bent, imprinted by his fingers when he had crushed it, unknowing. But Sarah did not see that. All she could see were those two black eyes.
Several days later Cade sat on a stone bench in the small courtyard behind Terrel's house sharpening his sword. With
or . . ." Her voice trailed off, her confusion overwhelming her. He
turned to look at her.
She was attractive in a way. Her face was round, but thin. Her features seemed somehow disjointed, as if a thin veil covered them. Her eyes darted about, not meeting his gaze. But they were her best feature. Brown in an ordinary way, now filled with knowledge and taut pain. She was pretty, her bare shoulder showing in the disarrayed dress. She was pretty. The thought surprised him. It was the sadness, always the sad ness-When he saw it in women he could never turn from it, never ignore it; it always made them so pretty. He hoped his vengeance would cause
her no more . . . sadness.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. They both knew what he meant.
Page 36
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Wine?" she asked, letting the moment pass.
"Wine." He followed her into the dining area, seating himself at the scarred wooden table. She handed him a goblet, the best she had. He poured the wine; the sound of the goblet filling reverberated loudly in the room. He put the decanter down, not looking at her, not touching the
drink.
"You said in your letter," his voice was husky, "you said that Terrel
was involved with the PFLS."
"I, Terrel . . ." She bowed her head. "I, yes. He ... helped."
"Money?"
CADE 23
"A little. He didn't like the Rankans"—her voice got softer—"but he wasn't really involved, not in a ... he didn't deserve . . ." but it was too much and she could say no more.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "Neither of us like Rankans. Mother al ways said they killed our father. He wore this."—he touched his war Page 37
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
braid—"my father did."
"Cade." She dared to look up, but couldn't meet his steady gaze.
"Terrel, he—" She stopped. Could you talk of love to such a man?
Cade stood up. "I will get my things. You have a room for me?" She just nodded. "Good. Sarah, we will talk later. I am here. I cannot take away what has happened, but I am here. You need never fear." With that he was gone. She sat there staring at the goblet. She should get up, show him the room, the room she had prepared, prepared months ago, but he would find it, know it was for him.
The dim light from the window glinted off the enamel overlay of the goblet. He was . . . Terrel had never said much about Cade, not Cade as a man. He was full of stories of their childhood, of the slow decline into poverty, of the family holding itself together fiercely, as all around them melted into the grayness of despair. Terrel had said that Cade was the stronger. A fighter. Nothing could beat Cade.
But who was this man, this man with his weapons and armor clanking about him, his ridiculous warbraid—who wore those anymore? She knew so little of him. Terrel had said he was some sort of warrior, but rich. She knew that. He had set Terrel up in business, bought this house. Money, yes, but ... a shiver caught her by surprise.
His eyes, that's what it was. Not the scars of the sword, or even his Page 38
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
strange way of talking. It was his eyes. She could see them clearly, re flected in the odd light of the goblet, framed by the hard lined face, the thick heavy brows, the impossibly black hair. His eyes. They were black, black like Terrel's, but ...
She reached out and grabbed the goblet. His eyes, they were like weap ons, spearing her, attacking everything they focused on, jabbing about, terrifying. She put the goblet down in front of her. It was bent, imprinted by his fingers when he had crushed it, unknowing. But Sarah did not see that. All she could see were those two black eyes.
Several days later Cade sat on a stone bench in the small courtyard behind Terrel's house sharpening his sword. With
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