Free Thieves World1 by Robert Asprin Page A

least offer them the death of an honest man ofllsig.'
    He held out a hand to steady her as she stepped back on the street, then led the way past the Serpentine to the governor's palace. Three men hung limply from the gallows in the rain, their crimes and names inscribed on placards tied around their necks. Neither Illyra nor Dubro had mastered the arcane mysteries of script.
    'Which one is most like the one you need?' Dubro asked.
    'She should be my size, but blonde.' Illyra explained while looking at the two strapping men and one grandfatherly figure hanging in front of them. Dubro shrugged and approached the stern-faced Hell Hound standing guard at the foot of the gallows.
    'Father,' he grunted, pointing at the elderly corpse.
    'It's the law - to be hung by the neck until sundown. You'll have to come back then.'
    'Long walk home. He's dead now - why wait?'
    'There is law in Sanctuary now, peon, Rankan law. It will be respected without exception.'
    Dubro stared at the ground, fumbling with his hands in evident distress.
    'In the rain I cannot see the sun - how shall I know when to return?'
    Guard and smith stared at the steely-grey sky, both knowing it would not clear before nightfall. Then, with a loud sigh, the Hell Hound walked to the ropes, selected and untied one, which dropped Dubro's 'father' into the mud.
    'Take him and begone!'
    Dubro shouldered the dead man, walking to Illyra who waited at the edge of the execution grounds.
    'He's - he's -' she gasped in growing hysteria.
    'Dead since sunrise.'
    'He's covered with filth. He reeks. His face ...'
    'You wanted another for the sacrifice.'
    'But not like that!'
    'It is the way of men who have been hung.'
    They walked back towards the charnel-house where Sanctuary's undertakers and embalmers held sway. There, for five copper coins, they found a man to prepare the body. For another coin he would have rented them a cart and his son as a digger to take the unfortunate ex-thief to the common field outside the Gate of Triumph for proper burial. Illyra and Dubro made a great show of grief, however, and insisted that they would bury their father with their own hands. Wrapped in a nearly clean shroud, the old man was bound to a plank. Illyra held the foot end, Dubro the other. They made their way back to the bazaar.
    'Do we take the body to the temple for the exchange?' he asked as they pushed aside their chairs to make room for the plank.
    Illyra stared at him, not realizing at first that his faith in her had made the question sincere.
    'During the night the Rankan priests will leave the governor's palace for the estate called Land's End. They will bear Marilla with them. We will have to stop them and replace Marilla with our corpse, without their knowledge.'
    The smith's eyes widened with disillusion. 'Lyra, it is not the same as stealing fruit from Blind Jakob! The girl will be alive. He is dead. Surely the priests will see.'
    She shook her head clinging desperately to the image she had found in meditation. 'It rains. There will be no moonlight, and their torches will give more smoke than light. I gave the girl cylantha. They will have to carry her as if she were dead.'
    'Will she take the drug?'
    'Yes!'
    But Illyra wasn't sure - couldn't be sure - until they actually saw the procession. So many questions: if Marilla had taken the drug, if the procession were small, unguarded and slowed by their burden, if the ritual were like the one in her dream. The cold panic she had felt as the stone descended on her returned. The Face of Chaos loomed, laughing, in her mind's eye.
    'Yes! She took the drug last night,' she said firmly, dispelling the Face by force of will.
    'How do you know this?' Dubro asked incredulously. 'I know.'
    There was no more discussion as Illyra threw herself into the preparation of a macabre feast that they ate on a table spread over their dead guest. The vague point of sundown passed, leaving Sanctuary in a dark rainy night, as Illyra had foreseen. The