Robert Asprin: The Face of Chaos

'Steady, Janni. I'll talk to him. Girl, fetch two Rankan ales or you won't be able to close your legs for a week.'

He pushed back his bench and strode to the bar, aware that he was only half joking, that Sanctuary was rubbing him raw. Was the god dead? Was Tempus in thrall to the Froth Daughter who kept his company? Was Sanctuary the honeypot of chaos? A hell from which no man emerged? He pushed a threesome of young puds aside and whistled piercingly when he reached the bar. The big bartender looked around elaborately, raised a scar-crossed eyebrow, and ignored him. Stealth counted to ten and then methodically began emptying other patrons' drinks on to the counter. Men were few here; approximations cursed him and backed away; one went for a beltknife but Stealth had a dirk in hand that gave him pause. Niko's gear was dirty, but better than any of these had. And he was ready to clean his soiled blade in any one of them. They sensed it; his peripheral perception read their moods, though he couldn't read their minds. Where his maat - his balance once had been was a cold, sick anger. In Sanctuary he had learned despair and futility, and these had introduced him to fury. Options he once had considered last resorts, off the battlefield, came easily to mind now. Son of the armies, he was learning a different kind of war in Sanctuary, and learning to love the havoc his own right arm could wreak. It was not a substitute for the equilibrium he'd lost when his left-side leader died down by the docks, but if his partner needed souls to buy a better place in heaven, Niko would gladly send him double his comfort's price.

The ploy brought One-Thumb down to stop him. 'Stealth, I've had enough of you.' One-Thumb's mouth was swollen, his upper lip crusted with sores, but his ponderous bulk loomed large; from the corner of his eye Niko could see the Unicorn's bouncer leave his post and Janni intercept him.

Niko reached out and grabbed One-Thumb by the throat, even as the man's paw reached under the bar, where a weapon might lie. He pulled him close: 'What you've had isn't even a shadow of what you're going to get, Turn-Turn, if you don't mind your tongue. Turn back into the well-mannered little troll we both know and love, or you won't have a bar to hide behind by morning.' Then, sotto voce: 'What's up?'

'She wants you,' the barkeep gasped, his face purpling, 'to go to her place by the White Foal at high moon. If it's convenient, of course, my lord.'

Niko let him go before his eyes popped out of his head. 'You'll put this on our tab?'

'Just this one more time, beggar boy. Your Whoreson bugger-buddies won't lift a leg to help you; your threats are as empty as your purse.'

'Care to bet on it?'

They carried on a bit more, for the crowd's benefit, Janni and the bouncer engaged in a staring match the while. 'Call your cur off, then, and we'll forget about this - this once.' Niko turned, neck aprickle, and headed back towards his seat, hoping that it wouldn't go any further. Not one of the four - bouncer, bar owner. Stepsons - was entirely playing to the crowd.

When he'd reached his door-facing table, Lastel/One-Thumb called his bruiser off and Janni backed towards Niko, white-faced and trembling with eagerness: 'Let me geld one of them. Stealth. It'll do our reputations no end of good.'

'Save it for the witch-bitch.'

Janni brightened, straddling his seat, both arms on the table, digging fiercely with his dirk into the wood: 'You've got a rendezvous?'

'Tonight, high moon. Don't drink too much.'

It wasn't the drink that skewed them, but the krrf they snorted, little piles poured into clenched fists where thumb muscles made a well. Still, the drug would keep them alert: it was a long time until high moon, and they had to patrol for marauders while seeming to be marauding themselves. It was almost more than Niko could bear. He'd infiltrated a score of camps, lines and palaces on reconnaissance sorties with his deceased partner, but those were cleaner, quicker actions than this protracted infiltration of Sanctuary, bunghole of the known world. If this evening made an end to it and he could wash and shave and stable his horses better, he'd make a sacrifice to Enlil which the god would not soon forget.

An hour later, mounted, they set off on their tour of the Maze, Niko thinking that not since the affair with the archmage Askelon and Tempus's sister Cime had his gut rolled up into a ball with this feeling of unmitigated dread. The Nisibisi witch might know him - she might have known him all along. He'd been interrogated by Nisibisi before, and he would fall upon his sword rather than endure it again now, when his dead teammate's ghost still haunted his mental refuge and meditation could not offer him shelter as it once had.

A boy came running up calling his name and his jug-head black tossed its rust nose high and snorted, ears back, waiting for a command to kill or maim.

'By Vashanka's sulphurous balls, what now?' Janni wondered.

They sat their mounts in the narrow street; the moon was just rising over the shantytops; people slammed their shutters tight and bolted their doors. Niko could catch wisps of fear and loathing from behind the houses' facades; two mounted men in these streets meant trouble, no matter whose they were.

The youth trotted up, breathing hard. 'Niko! Niko! The master's so upset. Thank Us I've found you ...' The delicate eunuch's lisp identified him: a servant of the Alekeep's owner, one of the few men Niko thought of as a friend here.

'What's wrong, then?' He leaned down in his saddle.

The boy raised a hand and the black snaked his head around fast to bite it. Niko clouted the horse between the ears as the boy scrambled back out of range. 'Come on, come here. He won't try it again. Now, what's your master's message?'

Tamzen! Tamzen's gone out without her bodyguard, with -' The boy named six of the richest Sanctuary families' fast-living youngsters. 'They said they'd be right back, but they didn't come. It's her party she's missing. The master's beside himself. He said if you can't help him, he'll have to call the Hell Hounds - the palace guard, or go out to the Stepsons' barracks. But there's no time, no time!' the frail eunuch wailed.

'Calm down, pud. We'll find her. Tell her father to send word to Tempus anyway, it can't hurt to alert the authorities. And say exactly this: that I'll help if I can, but he knows I'm not empowered to do more than any citizen. Say it back, now.'

Once the eunuch had repeated the words and run off, Janni said: 'How're you going to be in two places at once. Stealth? Why'd you tell him that? It's a job for the regulars, not for us. We can't miss this meet, not after all the bedbugs I've let chomp on me for this...'

'Seh!' The word meant offal in the Nisi tongue. 'We'll round her and her friends up in short order. They're just blowing off steam - it's the heat and school's end. Come on, let's start at Promise Park.'

When they got there, the moon showed round and preternatur-ally large above the palace and the wind had died. Thoughts of the witch he must meet still troubled Niko, and Janni's grousing buzzed in his ears: '... we should check in with Crit, let the girl meet her fate - ours will be worse if we're snared by enchantment and no backup alerted to where or how.'

'We'll send word or stop by the Shambles drop; stop worrying.' But Janni was not about to stop, and Niko's attempts to calm himself, to find transcendent perception in his rest-place and pick up the girl's trail by the heat-track she'd left and the things she'd said and done here were made more difficult by Janni's worries, which jarred him back to concerns he must put aside, and Janni's words, which startled him, over-loud and disruptive, every time he got himself calmed enough to sense Tamzen's energy trail among so many others like red/yellow/pink yarn twined among chiaroscuro trees.