Wings of Omen - Thieves World 06
“Look at them!
They are deedless and cripple, strengthless as dreams. All mortalkind is bound with a chain; all their eyes are darkened....
The sound of screaming slowly aroused Harran from the mechanical business of pounding out the Stepson Raik's hangover remedy in the old stone mortar. Raik scrambled to his feet, his face ashen, staring toward the gates of the Stepsons' barracks compound. "Just a little more business for the barber," Harran said, not looking up. "More serious than your head, ...from the sound of it." "Shal," Raik said, sounding wounded himself. "Harran, that's Shal-" "Knew the damned careless fool would get himself chopped up one day," Harran said. He measured the last ounce or so of grain spirits into his mortar and picked up the pestle again.
"Harran, you son of a-" "A moment ago you didn't care about anything, including where your partner was," Harran said. "Now you know... Mriga!" Over in the comer of the rough stone hut someone sat in the shadows on the packed dirt floor, hitting two rocks together-grinding a third rock to powder between them in a steady, relentless rhythm.MoreLess
They are deedless and cripple, strengthless as dreams. All mortalkind is bound with a chain; all their eyes are darkened....
The sound of screaming slowly aroused Harran from the mechanical business of pounding out the Stepson Raik's hangover remedy in the old stone mortar. Raik scrambled to his feet, his face ashen, staring toward the gates of the Stepsons' barracks compound. "Just a little more business for the barber," Harran said, not looking up. "More serious than your head, ...from the sound of it." "Shal," Raik said, sounding wounded himself. "Harran, that's Shal-" "Knew the damned careless fool would get himself chopped up one day," Harran said. He measured the last ounce or so of grain spirits into his mortar and picked up the pestle again.
"Harran, you son of a-" "A moment ago you didn't care about anything, including where your partner was," Harran said. "Now you know... Mriga!" Over in the comer of the rough stone hut someone sat in the shadows on the packed dirt floor, hitting two rocks together-grinding a third rock to powder between them in a steady, relentless rhythm.MoreLess
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