The price of victory- - Thieves World 13 Read Online Free PDF
Author: Robert Asprin
one hand he steadied the blade while with the other he held the whetstone, slowly smoothing out the minor imperfections in the razor-sharp edge. The sunlight danced across the blade, hurting Cade's eyes, but he ignored the discomfort. The
24
AFTERMATH
slow, grating scrape of the whetstone on the blade punctuated his
thoughts.
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Things were a lot more complicated than they had appeared on the
surface.
Scrape.
Terrel must have been much more involved in the PFLS than Sarah
thought.
Scrape.
He had been killed, tortured because of this.
Scrape.
Somehow, Terrel had crossed someone in a major way.
Scrape.
Damn them all!
Cade threw the whetstone across the courtyard, against the far wall.
Damn. Why hadn't he come to me?
And that was what kept eating at him, demanding an answer. Why hadn't Terrel asked Cade for help? He knew what his younger brother was, what he did. Cade had always protected Terrel, but this time Terrel had chosen to do it on his own. And he'd paid the price. Whom had he
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crossed and how?
Cade ran over the information he'd uncovered so far-Terrel had stayed late at his pottery shop, remaining after his workers had left. He had done that for three months before his death. Why?
Then there were the shop accounts—confusing. During the worst pe riod of chaos in the history of a town always on the edge of collapse, Terrel had shown a profit. By selling pottery? It made no sense.
Why did he stay late? What had he been doing? Cade reached into his tunic, pulling out several receipts. There was something else that both ered him about them. All the buyers had come to pick up their pottery at the shop, no deliveries. Fine. The orders had increased last fall. Terrel naturally ordered more clay. Everything had been paid on time, all for the proper price. Damn, it was here somewhere, he knew it; it had to be. Why had he been staying so late?
Cade mulled over the receipts for another half hour, getting more exasperated by the minute. He knew the answer was here, not on the streets. Targ had covered Sanctuary up and down, Cade had followed in the last five days retracing all the likely leads-All had led nowhere. Terrel was liked, respected, not known by anyone who shouldn't know him. His work was good. People were satisfied. None of it made any sense. Even with Terrel giving money to the PFLS, he hadn't given enough to make a Page 41
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
real difference. Half the town had been contributing to one faction or another at that time, although not always voluntarily. So why pick on
CADE 25
Terrel? An example? Not likely; a bigger target would have served better. Besides, the murder had hardly been public. No, something else . . .
Why had he been staying late? How had he been making a profit? How much money could he have given? Money. Late. Money. Late.
That's it. Terrel had been working to make more money. No. Some thing else. If it was to increase profits, why had he let the workers leave?
Why not have them work with him? What had he been doing that he didn't want the others to know about?
Cade rifled through the receipts again, singling out the purchases.
"You fool," he said aloud, but whether he meant himself by it, or Terrel, even he didn't know. It was all right there. TerreFs orders for clay had increased, but some of the clay was cheaper, much cheaper than that he usually used. And Cade was sure that when he checked on it, he would find the new clay totally inappropriate for making good pottery. Something not made to last, something made to break easily, something made for one purpose only: to conceal . . .
Page 42
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
What was it, Terrel? he thought. What
24
AFTERMATH
slow, grating scrape of the whetstone on the blade punctuated his
thoughts.
Page 39
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Things were a lot more complicated than they had appeared on the
surface.
Scrape.
Terrel must have been much more involved in the PFLS than Sarah
thought.
Scrape.
He had been killed, tortured because of this.
Scrape.
Somehow, Terrel had crossed someone in a major way.
Scrape.
Damn them all!
Cade threw the whetstone across the courtyard, against the far wall.
Damn. Why hadn't he come to me?
And that was what kept eating at him, demanding an answer. Why hadn't Terrel asked Cade for help? He knew what his younger brother was, what he did. Cade had always protected Terrel, but this time Terrel had chosen to do it on his own. And he'd paid the price. Whom had he
Page 40
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
crossed and how?
Cade ran over the information he'd uncovered so far-Terrel had stayed late at his pottery shop, remaining after his workers had left. He had done that for three months before his death. Why?
Then there were the shop accounts—confusing. During the worst pe riod of chaos in the history of a town always on the edge of collapse, Terrel had shown a profit. By selling pottery? It made no sense.
Why did he stay late? What had he been doing? Cade reached into his tunic, pulling out several receipts. There was something else that both ered him about them. All the buyers had come to pick up their pottery at the shop, no deliveries. Fine. The orders had increased last fall. Terrel naturally ordered more clay. Everything had been paid on time, all for the proper price. Damn, it was here somewhere, he knew it; it had to be. Why had he been staying so late?
Cade mulled over the receipts for another half hour, getting more exasperated by the minute. He knew the answer was here, not on the streets. Targ had covered Sanctuary up and down, Cade had followed in the last five days retracing all the likely leads-All had led nowhere. Terrel was liked, respected, not known by anyone who shouldn't know him. His work was good. People were satisfied. None of it made any sense. Even with Terrel giving money to the PFLS, he hadn't given enough to make a Page 41
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
real difference. Half the town had been contributing to one faction or another at that time, although not always voluntarily. So why pick on
CADE 25
Terrel? An example? Not likely; a bigger target would have served better. Besides, the murder had hardly been public. No, something else . . .
Why had he been staying late? How had he been making a profit? How much money could he have given? Money. Late. Money. Late.
That's it. Terrel had been working to make more money. No. Some thing else. If it was to increase profits, why had he let the workers leave?
Why not have them work with him? What had he been doing that he didn't want the others to know about?
Cade rifled through the receipts again, singling out the purchases.
"You fool," he said aloud, but whether he meant himself by it, or Terrel, even he didn't know. It was all right there. TerreFs orders for clay had increased, but some of the clay was cheaper, much cheaper than that he usually used. And Cade was sure that when he checked on it, he would find the new clay totally inappropriate for making good pottery. Something not made to last, something made to break easily, something made for one purpose only: to conceal . . .
Page 42
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
What was it, Terrel? he thought. What
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