Robert Asprin - Wings of Omen

"To being alive," he whispered, raising his beer in a toast. A bit of froth snowed his black mustache. "And if you want to stay that way, leam to carry a thinner purse and a plainer sword." He glanced up at her brow. "There are men here who would slit your throat for that trinket alone and only afterward worry if the gold was real."

She inclined her chin into one palm and met his gaze. She liked his eyes, so black and deep. "Since word travels so fast in Sanctuary, Hanse, you'd best spread this one. It's a new lesson to leam: don't play with Chenaya. The stakes are too high."

He regarded her over the rim of his mug. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She put on that sweet smile again. "It means I never lose, Hanse. Not at anything." She indicated the dice as he set his beer down. "How do you play those?"

He picked them up, shook them in a closed fist. "High number wins," he explained simply. He cast them: six and four.

She picked them up, dropped them without looking. A frown creased his forehead. "Two sixes," he muttered and gathered them to throw again.

She caught his hand. "Do you have a taste for Vuksibah?"

His eyes widened. "That's an expensive taste."

She produced two more coins, solid gold stamped with the seal of the imperial mint. She slid them toward Hanse. "I'll bet you can buy anything in this dump. See if old Sour-Face has a couple of bottles stashed away. Do you live nearby?"

He chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, cocked an eyebrow. His head bobbed slowly.

She made a wry face. "The stench in here is overpowering." Her face moved close to his. "I'll bet there are lots of lessons we could teach each other." Her hand slipped under the table, fell to his thigh, encountering quite a surprise.

He caught her look and shrugged. "Another knife," he explained.

Chenaya grinned. "If you say so."

"Really," he insisted, collecting her coins, pushing back his chair. His toe caught the table leg as he rose, sloshing beer from her mug. "Sony," he mumbled. He shoved through the crowd to the bar, began an urgent conversation with One Thumb.

Chenaya looked back at the dice, picked them up, dropped them. Two sixes. She cast them again: two sixes. Once more she collected them, then with a sigh she dropped them in the beer.

The night, her seventh in the city, was still. Chenaya paced around her apartment, stared out each of the windows over the broad expanse of her land to the silvery ribbon that was the Red Foal River. It ran to the sea, that river. She could almost hear the sound of it.

She paced and debated if it was worthwhile going into the streets again tonight. All the officers and officials she had bribed the past few days, all the little men she had threatened, all her questioning and seeking had proven fruit less. If there was a plot against the Prince, no word of it had leaked carelessly.

Yet Savankala himself had come to her, told her it would happen when the splintered moon lies in the dust. But what did that mean? Thinking that a splintered moon was, perhaps, some astrological reference, she had approached Molin and wound up in a terrible argument. She left her uncle with a string of curses and no more understanding.

She kicked at a stool and threw herself across her bed. Her nails dug into the sheets. When her god was granting wishes, why. hadn't she asked for brains?

She rolled over on her side and let go a sigh. Despite her mood a small grin stole over her features as her gaze fell on a table across the room. On it stood a bottle of Vuksibah.

There was a gamble she certainly hadn't lost, she smiled to herself. That handsome little thief taught her a lot, and only a little of it about Sanctuary. After the first bottle of Vuksibah anything he said was merest accompaniment to what he did. Fortunately, she woke with a clear head able to recall every word. She doubted he could claim the same. She took the remaining bottle, reclaimed her circlet which he had slipped from her brow and secreted beneath a pillow, and left him asleep.

It would be good to see Hanse again, she thought. Why not? Not even her workouts with Dayme had been able to turn her mind from the danger to her cousin. Yet it served no purpose to continually worry. Perhaps Hanse could find a way to divert her.

She rose, slipped off her gown, and pulled on new leather garments from the chest at the foot of her bed. There, also, were her weapons. She strapped on her fancy sword. As an afterthought, she took up the two daggers. Hanse considered himself good with throwing-knives. It might make exciting play to challenge him.

Dressed, she tucked the bottle of Vuksibah under her arm and left her room. Her father was asleep or reading in his own chambers, and she did not disturb him. He worried when she went out, but never tried to stop her. She loved him most for that.

She descended stairs to the main floor, her boot heels clicking on the stone. Dayme must have heard her, for he was waiting at the bottom. Two more of her eight gladiators would be prowling about somewhere nearby as well. Ka-dakithis was not alone on Theron's list; her father had been friend as well as relative to the late Emperor.

"Bring Reyk," she instructed her dark-haired giant. "Then get someone else to stand your watch. You've walked the streets with me these past five nights, and the lack of sleep showed in our workout today."

Dayme frowned, then quickly hid it. "Let me go with you. Lady. The night is treacherous...."

She shook her head. "Not tonight, my friend." She indicated the liquor she carried. "Tonight, it's a little pleasure I seek."

He seemed about to speak, then thought better of it, turned, and left her alone. The falcons were caged at the rear of the estate, but Dayme returned promptly with her pet.

Chenaya wrapped the jess around her fingers, then removed Reyk's hood and gave it back to Dayrne. She did not need it to handle her favorite bird; it was a different story for others.

"Now to bed with you." She squeezed playfully at his huge bicep. "And in the morning be prepared for the hardest workout of your life!"

She passed into the warm night, feeling better now that she was free of the confines of her room. She would look for Hanse at his apartment first, at the Vulgar Unicorn if he wasn't home. It might take a little time, but she'd find him. He was worth the effort.

As she crossed the Avenue of Temples a young girl stepped out of the shadows and blocked her path. A small hand brushed back the concealing hood of a worn cloak, exposing dark curls and wide, frightened eyes. "Please, Mistress," she said timidly, "a coin for a luckless unfortunate?"

Chenaya realized she had forgotten her own cloak. No matter, the street people knew her well by now. She made to pass the girl by. .

The girl stepped closer, saw Reyk, and stopped. She chewed the tip of a finger, then said again, "Please, Mistress, whatever you can spare. Otherwise. I must sell myself in the Promise of Heaven to feed my little brother."

Chenaya peered closely at the thin face emaciated from hunger. Those large imploring eyes locked with hers, full of fear and full of hope. Beggars had approached her other nights, and she had kept her coins. Something about this one, however, loosened her heart and her purse strings. Several pieces of Rankan gold fell into the outstretched hand.

It was more wealth than the child had ever seen. She stared, disbelieving, at the gleams in her palm. Tears sprang into her eyes. She hurled herself to the ground, flung her arms around her benefactor's legs, and cried.

Reyk screeched and sprang to defend his handler. Only the jess held him away from the sobbing child. Chenaya fought to control him and to keep her balance as those arms entwined her. The bottle of Vuksibah slipped from under her arm and broke; the precious liquor splattered her boots. She let go a savage curse and pushed the silly beggar girl away.