Free Uneasy alliances - Thieves World 11 by Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey Page A

and get the reins without having his fingers taken off or his horse kicked.
    Of Crit there was no sign at all, and Straton found himself coldly, terribly sober, interviewing everyone in the affair, no one of whom knew a damned thing, except the horse might have come from a dozen streets, all of which they were searching door to door; and as many alleys, more likely, all of which they were searching, down to the rubbish heaps and the refuse, looking for the body. Crit's bow was missing, not with the horse and not in any place he would have left it. He must have had it with him. Must have had reason to have it in hand when trouble came on him. So he had not been taken utterly off his guard. And they had still got him. Whoever it was.
    There had been some kind of fracas involving a goldsmith and a lot of crowd in that area. Crit had been there. Had found the woman Moria in the middle of it and she was in custody, along with the jeweler and a lump of gold. That, Strat reckoned, had nothing to do with it. Crit had ridden out of there, the guard swore to that, ridden out of there and down the street and vanished somewhere within that district, to judge by where they had first reported the loose horse.
    He began to build a scenario in his mind—the crowds, the likelihood of cutpurses and pickpockets, and Crit maybe spotting something—
    —running into trouble and ending up just a corpse someone had to get rid of, down some sewer, into some basement, under some rubbish heap: gods, Crit, to end like that, in some damned alley, in a damned police action, in something that was not his job. because Crit, being Crit, tended
    to be all over what he was managing—
    —or maybe Crit had seen someone; or someone had seen him, who had a grudge. Gods knew there were people with grudges. He had a vision of blood in the streets again, some new set of crazies with an agenda, murdering any symbol of Authority they could get their sights on. Sanctuary had seen blood and blood and blood, and it had been quiet a while, but the same damned lunatics were still in town, those some other lunatic had not killed.
    He felt sick at his stomach, that was what he felt, sick and helpless and
    scared, because he had shot his mouth off with Crit and done everything wrong he could do—
    —he had been stinking drunk this morning when Crit had been riding 258 UNEASY ALLIANCES
    the streets alone, because he had no partner he could rely on any more. And he hated himself. He despised himself. He could not figure out how he had become what he had become. As good as if he had run and left his partner to face his killers alone. That was what he had done. And if men shied off from him this morning and if he could not meet their eyes, there
    was reason for it.
    Oh damn, he wanted his hands on someone.
    He wanted Crit alive, he wanted Crit to come walking in that gate all right and madder than hell; and he would listen to everything Crit had to
    say and swear that it was right, and go back to him and make it right if Crit would have him, that was what he would do. Crit needed him, needed him in the worst way; and Ischade had thrown him out and battered his pride for the last time, he swore she had. It was over. Finished. He had no more intention to go crawling to her a second time. Gods, if he'd come walking in here—lost his horse, that's all; we'd give him a hard time, he'd curse us to hell, I'd stand there and maybe he'd know without my saying a thing, know what hell I've been through—we could talk, then. Let him swear me to hell and gone, no matter, get him talking and maybe I could talk to him, the way we used to—way we used to be—
    A man came up on him, a guard sergeant, to report they had a man in hand, from the gate—"—asking after the woman, the one they arrested, says he can prove whose the gold is—"
    He had told them he wanted to know everything about everyone involved. He had sent a man he trusted to ask Moria if there was anything she could tell