The price of victory- - Thieves World 13 by Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey Page A
Authors: Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey
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of Lanterns and deliver ance from Ratfall. In exchange for what she'd found on the Downwind beach, Zip was happy to oblige. The red-eyed thing that lived inside the stones would tike its new gift, Zip was sure.
He hunkered down beside the knee-high pile and said, "Look here, Page 116
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Lord, I've got a present for you, when we're moved. But now I've got to start on the stones, by myself if you won't let my boys help."
He waited for a reply, but only a glimpse of a burning red eye and a sound like shifting weight came to him in response.
What was it he served here? Most times, it didn't speak. He was prompted without words to do this or that. He'd get a feeling of a pres ence, and the things he brought it—pieces of human flesh, skins of warm blood, precious baubles—would disappear. Was it inimical only to Rankans, or to everyone? He wanted it to be his friend. He wanted it to
>0 AFTERMATH
?e the Ilsigs* friend, guardian of the revolution, since he was bound to
iave one.
He wanted it to show itself, magnificent and powerful, and help bring
jown Zip's enemies. So far, all it had done was take the sacrifices, give him bad dreams, and let him know it wanted to move uptown.
So did they all. So did all of Zip's Ratfall movers, everyone trapped in the Maze and policed to wits* end. So did the twelve-year-old mothers and one-legged fathers of Zip's revolution, which he'd never wanted. He Page 117
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might have disavowed the struggle if Tempus hadn't tagged him. But
Tempus had.
Zip didn't understand why the Rankan powers wanted Zip's help, or the PFLS on its side. The Rankans wouldn't believe that there really wasn 't a PFLS when he tried to explain that a score of gang members with lamb's blood and paintbrushes didn't make a political movement.
But since his thieves and mendicants would receive the protection of what police Crit had in Sanctuary if they took the night shift, and Zip took responsibility, his entry into the power structure and polite . . .
society . . . had just happened.
It wasn't being co-opted by the enemy that bothered him the most. What bothered him the most was that his bad boys and girls were doing exactly what they'd done before—extort, blackmail, roust and rough house, bum and plunder—and doing it now with the protection and for
the benefit of the state.
It didn't make any sense, until it made all the sense in the world. And when Zip realized what Tempus had done to him, it had been too late. Zip was already part of the establishment, a hated enforcer, a dog with a Rankan collar, and his militia no better than any of the cannon fodder in Page 118
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Walegrin's demoralized army. They hadn't triumphed over the opposi tion, they had become it.
They weren't the revolution, they were the sustaining force behind the
injustice that had created them.
When he'd said that—shouted it, actually—to Crit in fury, the cynical Stepson had flashed white teeth and said, "The more things change, pud, the more they stay the same. What's your problem? Not having fun now that you're legal? It's all your type knows how to do, and this way you won't end up handiess or headless because of it. You're talent, and we're the talent scouts. Thank your slime gods you've been discovered and put to work before you ended up greasing some slaver's wagon wheels."
That was another thing that bothered Zip: Critias seemed to know more about Zip's affairs than anybody could. "Slime gods" was an obvi ous reference to the altar. And as for the slavers . . . Zip had sold more than one soul down that river of sighs, to finance the revolution. But then
WAKE OF THE RIDDLER
61
it had been a matter of conscience. Now it was a godsdamned state Page 119
Generated by ABC Amber
He hunkered down beside the knee-high pile and said, "Look here, Page 116
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Lord, I've got a present for you, when we're moved. But now I've got to start on the stones, by myself if you won't let my boys help."
He waited for a reply, but only a glimpse of a burning red eye and a sound like shifting weight came to him in response.
What was it he served here? Most times, it didn't speak. He was prompted without words to do this or that. He'd get a feeling of a pres ence, and the things he brought it—pieces of human flesh, skins of warm blood, precious baubles—would disappear. Was it inimical only to Rankans, or to everyone? He wanted it to be his friend. He wanted it to
>0 AFTERMATH
?e the Ilsigs* friend, guardian of the revolution, since he was bound to
iave one.
He wanted it to show itself, magnificent and powerful, and help bring
jown Zip's enemies. So far, all it had done was take the sacrifices, give him bad dreams, and let him know it wanted to move uptown.
So did they all. So did all of Zip's Ratfall movers, everyone trapped in the Maze and policed to wits* end. So did the twelve-year-old mothers and one-legged fathers of Zip's revolution, which he'd never wanted. He Page 117
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
might have disavowed the struggle if Tempus hadn't tagged him. But
Tempus had.
Zip didn't understand why the Rankan powers wanted Zip's help, or the PFLS on its side. The Rankans wouldn't believe that there really wasn 't a PFLS when he tried to explain that a score of gang members with lamb's blood and paintbrushes didn't make a political movement.
But since his thieves and mendicants would receive the protection of what police Crit had in Sanctuary if they took the night shift, and Zip took responsibility, his entry into the power structure and polite . . .
society . . . had just happened.
It wasn't being co-opted by the enemy that bothered him the most. What bothered him the most was that his bad boys and girls were doing exactly what they'd done before—extort, blackmail, roust and rough house, bum and plunder—and doing it now with the protection and for
the benefit of the state.
It didn't make any sense, until it made all the sense in the world. And when Zip realized what Tempus had done to him, it had been too late. Zip was already part of the establishment, a hated enforcer, a dog with a Rankan collar, and his militia no better than any of the cannon fodder in Page 118
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Walegrin's demoralized army. They hadn't triumphed over the opposi tion, they had become it.
They weren't the revolution, they were the sustaining force behind the
injustice that had created them.
When he'd said that—shouted it, actually—to Crit in fury, the cynical Stepson had flashed white teeth and said, "The more things change, pud, the more they stay the same. What's your problem? Not having fun now that you're legal? It's all your type knows how to do, and this way you won't end up handiess or headless because of it. You're talent, and we're the talent scouts. Thank your slime gods you've been discovered and put to work before you ended up greasing some slaver's wagon wheels."
That was another thing that bothered Zip: Critias seemed to know more about Zip's affairs than anybody could. "Slime gods" was an obvi ous reference to the altar. And as for the slavers . . . Zip had sold more than one soul down that river of sighs, to finance the revolution. But then
WAKE OF THE RIDDLER
61
it had been a matter of conscience. Now it was a godsdamned state Page 119
Generated by ABC Amber
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