Wings of Omen

"Not me," Hanse said. "I've got a life to live and I'm not political. It's true that I and Prince Kadakithis get along all right as two men, but I'm Ilsig and he's Ranke and the only thing I'd help him do is sneak out of town-provided he was headed away from Ranke."

Kama tapped a finger on the table. "That won't be necessary. Look, Hanse... Ranke is in trouble, too. It isn't just the Beysins in Sanctuary. An empire is a lot of land, a lot of people, a lot of Sanctuarys. A united and triumphant Sanctuarite populace who'd got rid of the Beysins would be too proud to let the prince back into the Governor's Palace, and I have to tell you that he wouldn't be strong enough to enforce it." She glanced away. "He couldn't count on any help from Ranke, either. Ranke is busy. Ranke is in trouble."

"Is it true that Vashanka's dead?" Hanse asked.

Both Kama and Zip stared at him and Hanse wondered at their expressions.

"Anyhow," he said, "I'd say that you'll make a lot of noise and get in a lot of trouble and kill some Stare-Eyes and get a lot of our people killed; and then they'll smash you. If you're lucky you'll die in that one, and not have to be tortured to death. Zip. I'll be going about my business, but not with you or your people. I'm just not political. Zip."

Zip's anger had him all ready to blurt "Coward!" but he got control of himself and opted against saying anything so silly, since he wasn't ready to die right now. Instead he said, "Hanse, Hanse... you said you killed one just tonight!"

Hanse gave him a look. "Said I did?"

Zip gestured and sighed. "Words, words. I wasn't questioning you. The point is-"

"The point is that I did. I had three choices: run, die, or kill. It was that kind of thing. I had to. It wasn't political." Now he, too, sighed and wagged his head. "I didn't say that I liked those creepy stare-eyed creatures-I said that I am not political and am not joining any political groups."

Zip slapped the table a bit harder than he should have done, which Notable remarked with a smallish noise in his throat. "We don't want you to join if you don't want to, Hanse, and we don't want any money from you. You have the opportunity to do more for Sanctuary, for your fellow Ilsigi and against them, than anybody... because only you can break into the palace and steal the Beysa's scepter."

Hanse looked at Zip as if the PFLSer had just asked him to strip and dance through the streets. He jerked at Kama's touch on his wrist-only a touch, he noted, and knew that she was both bright and dangerous; not one to go grasping a touchy man's wrist as just any woman might have done. He looked at her without expression; she had already taken her hand back.

"Hanse... only one person in all Sanctuary and probably in the world could do it. We-Sanctuary-needs you, Hanse."

"And once it's done, we'll swear that we had assistance from inside," Zip said excitedly, "so that they'll suspect their own, see, and we'll never, never tell anyone that Hanse did it."

"That's true," Hanse told him, "because Hanse isn't going to do it. One more time: I am not political. I do love living. You told me that you had this big idea that would do more than anything and no one would have to die. What you want, though, absolutely requires the death of one person."

Zip glanced at Kama; looked at the best thief on the continent. "Done," he said, thumping the table. "Who has to die?"

"Me, you damned fool, if I were damned fool enough to try to break into the very palace and snatch Her Fishi-ness's scepter and get out again!" And Hanse rose, pushing back his chair, and turned to the door. And looked down into the eyes of the cat that had suddenly got itself to a point two feet from his buskins and was staring up at him with big round black marbles set in green almonds. Showing almost no ears. Notable made a nasty remark.

One dramatic exit blown all to hell by a cat. Hanse sighed and, slowly, eased back down into the chair to await the advent of Ahdio's gimp-legged aide.

"You rotten dam' cat," he muttered, picking up his glazed mug. "I think I like you. Here, have a beer."

Notable hissed.

"I CANNOT BE SLAIN BY WEAPONS OF YOUR PLANE, IDIOT, LITTLE THIEF, POOR DEMI MORTAL," the god Vashanka had said to Hanse, and then Hanse put the knife into the god, and Vashanka was sore struck and must die, even as He slew Hanse. Yet Vashanka was right: He could not be slain, and so was hurled forever from this plane on which existed Thieves' World, Sanctuary, and Ranke, Vashanka's chosen city and people, and could never return, for here He had been killed.

Since Vashanka had killed Hanse but did not exist on this plane and so could not have killed Hanse, a paradox existed and paradoxes, the god Ils of the Ilsigi said, could not exist. And therefore Hanse called Shadowspawn called Godson was alive and unmarked. And Ils gazed down at him.

"You, beloved son of Shadow, have defeated a God and restored Me to My Own people in Sanctuary. Further, as Vashanka had become the most powerful of the gods of Ranke, that people's power shall wane. Empires die slowly, but it has begun, as of this moment."

And, "For ten circuits of the sun, you shall have what you wish. All that you desire.... Then you will face Me again, beloved Hanse, and tell Me what is your desire."

As the weary Hanse, spawn of the shadows and son of the shadow-god Shalpa (and slayer of a God), trudged home that night, he wished that this weariness of battle would go from him; and it was so, and then gri

The night was wonderful after that, that night of Hanse's great triumph and Vashanka's death-banishment forever, and in the morning the ships were there. The Beysib had come.

Hanse went down to the dock that day and looked at the ships as they came closer, and closer, and he pondered and considered. Then he went back up to Eaglenest where he had consorted with gods and fought with a god. They were not there. Only the ruins were there. And the well. Hanse sighed. That well had held two horsebags full of silver coin-and a few gold-for many, many months, and the money was his. Without it, strangely, he had been neither better nor worse off. Merely Hanse, thief, thinking about his next theft and his next girl and phantasizing about those he could not ha-

But he could, couldn't he? Ils had sent to his bed Esaria, the beautiful young daughter of Venerable Shafralain. It had been a wonderful night, and no ill had come of it. A shudder took him as he thought that the love goddess Eshi, too, had shared his bed-he thought. And too. She was somehow involved with Mignureal, daughter of Moonflower... who had expressly asked Hanse to stay away from her daughter, He had been willing, but since then-oh, since then, all that had happened!

He walked back down to Sanctuary, pondering. Phantasizing. Along the way a sort of test had arisen: a big accoster had a go at him. Hanse readied himself but took opportunity to wish the fellow would just go to sleep and leave him alone. He watched the man yawn, then crumple up like a falling curtain. Marveling, Hanse checked that crumpled form. Alive, definitely alive. Just asleep. Just like that.

"Why-I have ten days (or months? Surely not years!) of this! Whatever I wish!"

In his excitement he spoke aloud in a rising voice, and danced a few jiggy steps, and joyously entered Sanctuary with a thousand visions and possibilities, a thousand phantasies chasing each other through his mind. He found his beloved Moonflower the seer, and astonished her by hugging her while he wished that she had twice the coinage she thought within the vast cleavage of what she called her treasure chest, and that it was in gold and silver besides. He heard the clinks and saw her look of surprise and some discomfort as that temporary storage vault between the great pillows of her bosom became crowded and heavy, on the instant.