Wings of Omen - Thieves World 06 Read Online Free PDF Page B

on a winekeg with a woman who must be the vampire, Ischade, else they wouldn't have had that much space to themselves. It was a good thing Critias wasn't in town, or Strat never would have gone after the vampire woman. Sync had to stop himself from looking for signs of vampire-bite on Strat's neck.
    The young guerrilla fighter whom Sync, Gay Ie, and Strat had tangled with on the Street of Red Lanterns-the one who'd killed his own men rather than let them be captured-had the other far comer, a mangy cur scratched fleas by his knee. Sync nodded to Zip and threaded his way to him through the crowd: if there was one single element of this riffraff he needed to secure his tactical advantage, it was this scruffy rebel leader. Reaching him, with all eyes on them. Sync held out his hand and said, "Last time, we forgot to introduce ourselves. I'm Sync. You're?..."
    "Zip will do." Eyes slitted, he shook Sync's hand.
    "I'm glad you came. When this is over, I'll buy you a meal and we'll compare notes."
    He turned and headed toward the table Marc had set up at the front of the room before Zip could ask him what kind of notes or decline his invitation. Standing beside Kama, Sync waited for Jubal to settle down. Jubal was another one to whom this crowd gave extra room, though he'd come in late with only his first lieutenant-Jubal had been skulking outside in the shadows, waiting for Sync to arrive.
    "Now that we're all here," Sync scanned the room, making sure that this was indeed the case; a particular pair of wolfish eyes in a furry face met his and he nodded as he continued, "I'd like to turn the meeting over to our resident expert on covert enterprise, secrecy, and wizardry, Randal, our own ex-Hazard, formerly of the Tysian mageguild."
    Mutters broke out; men and women moved away from one another; necks craned, looking for the sorcerer in their midst.
    From Ischade's comer, a musical laugh sounded. As all eyes turned to her, the mangy cur, part wolf by the look of it, who'd been scratching fleas near Zip's knee, stretched, yawned, and got to his feet.
    The dog, with a sneeze and a sniffle, wandered in seemingly haphazard fashion up to the table, where Kama knelt down, ready with the cloak she'd been v/earing, and fastened it around the old dog's neck.
    In the back of the room, Zip rose to his feet without a sound; Marc the blademonger put out a hand to stay him.
    But no one noticed: the crowd's attention was on the dog before them, changing before their eyes into a man.
    It was a smooth transition, smoother than Randal usually could manage. He didn't even sneeze much.
    When the mage rose to full man's height, the cloak and the smoke and the shadows thrown by flickering candles in that subterranean meeting room made him seem more imposing than he really was.
    For the first time. Sync had that warm feeling in the pit of his stomach that he got when a strategy became reality.
    Randal said, "Thank you. Commander."
    Sync murmured, "You're welcome," and sat down.
    "Good evening, gentle folk," Randal began. "I bring you greetings from Tempus, and from all our friends on Wi-zardwall. The plight of Sanctuary since the Stepsons left it has come to our attention, and with your help, we're going to set about making things right here-ousting the Beysibs and returning Sanctuary to its former... ah... glory."
    There was a general murmur of agreement.
    Randal smiled his boyish, winning smile. The redoubtable mage, his hair grown long enough to cover his too-large ears and too-thin neck, was a born crowd pleaser. When he sneezed concussively, he blamed it on his "lack of suitable garments" and the cold; the crowd bought it. They were so anxious to have the advantage of wizardly aid in fighting the Beysibs that if Randal had talked to them in the shape of a mule or a salamander, they would have listened respectfully, silently, gratefully.
    It bothered Sync, just a little, that the credibility of honest fighters wasn't sufficient to satisfy this rabble,