Free Blood ties-- Thieves World 09 by Robert Asprin Page A

response we can't foresee, let alone control." The woman was walking alone in the garden while, within the manse beyond, a civilized uptown party was under way. Her hair was blond and curly, bound up in the fashion noblewomen in the capital had adopted this season: held in place with little golden pins hafted with likenesses of Rankan gods. He came upon her from behind and had his left arm crooked around her neck in seconds, saying only, "Hold, I'm not here to hurt you," while within him a god who shouldn't have been there stirred to wakefulness, stretched, and urged otherwise.
    Ignoring the obscene and increasingly attractive suggestions the war-god in his head was making, he gave the woman time to realize who held her. It didn't take long: She wasn't a typical Rankan woman of blood-no man without Tempus's supernal speed and talent could have caught her unaware. She stiffened and, every muscle tensed so that his body began taking the god's suggestions literally, pressed back against him-the first move toward putting him off balance, ready to use her own arena-training in weight, feint, and misdirection of attention to try to escape.
    "Hold," he said again. "Or suffer the consequences, Chenaya."
    "Pork you, Tempus," she gritted in a surprisingly ladylike voice unsuited to the content of her words. He could feel her hands ball into fists, then relax. Behind him, people indoors chatted and clinked their goblets.
    "We haven't time for that, unless you're ready." He put his free hand on her hip and spread it, moving it forward to press against her belly and slip downward, putting her in a hold she'd never come up against in a Rankan arena.
    "Gods, you haven't changed, you bastard. If it's not my body-for which you'll pay more than it's worth, I assure you-what do you want?"
    "I thought you'd never ask. It's a little matter of an attempt on Theron's life, yours, I believe-something about boarding the barge. Not a smart move for a member of a decidedly ac-royal family: not for you, not for Kadakithis, who'll share Theron's wrath if it's revealed who tried to feed him to the sharks, not for any of what's left of your line."
    "Again, halfling, what do you want?"
    There were two answers at that point in time, one of which had to do with the god in his head, who was whispering. She is a woman, and women only understand one thing. She is a fighter. It's long since We've had a fighter. Give her to Us, and We'll be very grateful-and she will be Our willing servant. Otherwise, you cannot trust her.
    To the god in his head, he responded, / can't trust You, never mind her. To the woman, he said, "Chenaya, beyond the obvious, which we'll see about"-still holding her tightly enough with his elbow that a slight jerk would break her neck, he began to raise her voluminous white skirt from behind-"I want you to do something for me. There's a faction here that needs a woman whom the gods decree cannot be defeated. What I ask, I ask for Kadakithis, for the continuance of your bloodline, and for the good of Sanctuary. What the god asks, I'm afraid, is another matter." His voice was deepening, and into him was pouring all the long held passion of Sanctuary's Lord of Rape and Pillage, Blood and Death. She was a fighter, and god-bound. He hoped, as he began to explain the business that had brought him here and the god in him got out of hand, that she'd understand.
    The sentry at the tunnel entrance to Ratfall, Zip's base camp in Downwind, was gagged and flopping in a pool of his own blood.
    Zip had slipped in it, then stumbled over the body in the dusk before he realized what he'd stumbled on: Sync's calling card-the sentry's hands and feet had been lopped off.
    He thanked the god whose swampy altar he still frequented that he'd come home alone as he raised up on hands and knees and, with his belt dagger, made an end to the quivering sentry's agony.
    3rd Commando tactics were meant to terrify; knowing this didn't make it any easier to keep from retching.