Robert Asprin: Shadow Of Sanctuary

The rooftop was deserted. Too cold to sleep outside, no doubt; the inhabitants of the city went to ground at night, in warmer, unseen warrens.

The air smelled cleaner here, so she travelled by rooftop as far as she could. But the main passage through the Maze was too wide to leap across. From the building that faced the Unicorn, Wess observed the tavern. She doubted that her pursuer could have reached it first, but the possibility existed, in this strange place. She saw no one. It was near dawn. She no longer felt exhausted, just deliciously sleepy. She climbed down the face of the building and started across the street.

Someone flung open the door behind her, leaped out as she turned, and punched her in the side of the head.

Wess crashed to the cobblestones. The shadow stepped closer and kicked her in the ribs. A line of pain wrapped around her chest and tightened when she tried to breathe.

'Don't kill her. Not yet.'

'No. I have plans for her.'

Wess recognized the voice ofBauchle Meyne, who had insulted Quartz in the tavern. He toed her in the side.

'When I'm done with you, bitch, you can take me to your friends.' He started to unbuckle his belt.

Wess tried to get up. Bauchle Meyne's companion stepped towards her, to kick her again.

His foot swung towards her. She grabbed it and twisted. As he went down, Wess struggled up. Bauchle Meyne, surprised, lurched towards her and grabbed her in a bear hug, pinioning her arms so she could not reach her knife. He pressed his face down close to hers. She felt his whisker stubble and smelled his yeasty breath. He could not hold her and force his mouth to hers at the same time, but he slobbered on her cheek. His pants slipped down and his penis thrust against her thigh.

Wess kneed him in the balls as hard as she could.

He screamed and let her go and staggered away, holding himself, doubled up and moaning, stumbling over his fallen breeches. Wess drew her knife and backed against a wall, ready for another attack.

Bauchle Meyne's accomplice rushed her. Her knife sliced quickly towards him, slashing his arm. He flung himself backwards and swore violently. Blood spurted between his fingers.

Wess heard the approaching footsteps a moment before he did. She pressed her free hand hard against the wall behind her. She was afraid to shout for help. In this place whoever answered might as easily join in attacking her.

But the man swore again, grabbed Bauchle Meyne by the arm, and dragged him away as fast as the latter, in his present distressed state, could go.

Wess sagged, sliding down the wall to the ground. She knew she was still in danger, but her legs would not hold her up anymore.

The footsteps ceased. Wess looked up, clenching her fingers around the handle of her knife. '

'Frejojan,' Lythande said softly, from ten paces away, 'sister, you led me quite a chase.' She glanced after the two men. 'And not only me, it seems.'

'I never fought a person before,' Wess said shakily. 'Not a real fight. Only practice. No one ever got hurt.' She touched the side other head. The shallow scrape bled freely. She thought about its stopping, and the flow gradually ceased.

Lythande sat on his heels beside her. 'Let me see.' He probed the cut gently. '1 thought it was bleeding, but it's stopped. What happened?'

'I don't know. Did you follow me? Did they? I thought I was eluding one person.'

'I was the only one following you,' Lythande said. 'They must have come back to bother Quartz again.'

'You know about that?'

'The whole city knows, child. Or anyway, the whole Maze. Bauchle will not soon live it down. The worst of it is he will never understand what it is that happened, or why.'

'No more will I,' Wess said. She looked up at Lythande. 'How can you live here?' she cried.

Lythande drew back, frowning. 'I do not live here. But that is not really what you are asking. We cannot speak so freely on the public street.' He glanced away, hesitated, and turned back. 'Will you come with me? I haven't much time, but I can fix your cut, and we can talk safely.'

'All right,' Wess said. She sheathed her knife and pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the sharp pain in her side. Lythande grasped her elbow, steadying her.

'Perhaps you've cracked a rib,' he said. They started slowly down the street.

'No,' Wess said. 'It's bruised. It will hurt for a while, but it isn't broken.'

'How do you know?'

Wess glanced at him quizzically. 'I may not be from a city, but my people aren't completely wild. I paid attention to my lessons when I was little.'

'Lessons? Lessons in what?'

'In knowing whether I am hurt, and what I must do if I am, in controlling the processes of my body - surely your people teach their children these things?'

'My people don't know these things,' Lythande said. 'I think we have more to talk about than I believed, frejojan.'

The Maze confused even Wess, by the time they reached the small building where Lythande stopped. Wess was feeling dizzy from the blow to her head, but she was confident that she was not dangerously hurt. Lythande opened a low door and ducked inside. Wess followed.

Lythande picked up a candle. The wick sparked. In the centre of the dark room, a shiny spot reflected the glow. The wick burst into flame and the spot of reflection grew. Wess blinked. The reflection spread into a sphere, taller than Lythande, the colour and texture of deep water, blue-grey, shimmering. It balanced on its lower curve, bulging slightly so it was not quite perfectly round.

'Follow me. Westerly.'

Lythande walked towards the sphere. Its surface rippled at her approach. She stepped into it. It closed around her, and all Wess could see was a wavering figure, beyond the surface, and the spot of light from the candle flame.

She touched the sphere gingerly with her fingertip. It was wet. Taking a deep breath, she put her hand through the surface.

It froze her fast; she could not proceed, she could not escape, she could not move. Even her voice was captured.

After a moment Lythande surfaced. Her hair sparkled with drops of water, but her clothes were dry. She stood frowning at Wess, lines of thought bracketing the star on her forehead. Then her brow cleared and she grasped Wess's wrist.

'Don't fight it, little sister,' she said. 'Don't fight me.'

The blue star glittered in the darkness, its points sparking with new light. Against great resistance, Lythande drew Wess's hand from the sphere. The cuff of Wess's shirt was cold and sodden. In only a few seconds the water had wrinkled her fingers. The sphere freed her suddenly and she nearly fell, but Lythande caught and supported her.

'What happened?'

Still holding her up, Lythande reached into the water and drew it aside like a curtain. She urged Wess towards the division. Unwillingly, Wess took a shaky step forward, and Lythande helped her inside. The surface closed behind them. Lythande eased Wess down on the platform that flowed out smoothly from the inside curve. Wess expected it to be wet, but it was resilient and smooth and slightly warm.

'What happened?' she asked again.

'The sphere is a protection against other sorcerers.'

'I'm not a sorcerer.'

'I believe you believe that. If I thought you were deceiving me, I would kill you. But if you are not a sorcerer, it is only because you are not trained.'

Wess started to protest, but Lythande waved her to silence.

'Now I understand how you eluded me in the streets.'

'I'm a hunter,' Wess said irritably. 'What good would a hunter be, who couldn't move silently and fast?'

'No, it was more than that. I put a mark on you, and you threw it off. No one has ever done that before.'

'I didn't do it, either.'

'Let us not argue, frejojan. There isn't time.'