Shadows Of Sanctuary
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Each one of them has a tale to tell - thieves, harlots, godlings, and sorcerous beings living in the Shadows of Sanctuary.
Following on from Thieves' World and Tales from the Vulgar Unicorn, seven top fantasy writers have written the stories of those who live and die in this infamous place.
Join Lynn Abbey, Andrew Offutt, Vonda N. McIntyre and Janet Morris - but be warned: the world of Sanctuary is a dangerous one.
tell me which you’d like. Ah. Both, perhaps. Ambition. But know me better, Mradhon Vis, before you propose anything aloud. You might not like my terms. Take the gold. The likes of Sjekso Kinzan is commoner than you. And far less to regret.” So she had killed the boy. Markless, and cold and stiff within sight of the doorway which might have saved him. He thought about it… and the ambition persisted. It was power. And that was more than the money, much more. “You’ll go now,” she said
his eyes—the robes seemed to swell and sink in the vicinity of the chest, and the right arm, the hand resting visible … it went dark, that hand, and then, a deception of his abused eyes, went pale and young. “Shadowspawn.” The voice too was clearer, younger. “You lost a friend last night. Do you want to know how?” That unnerved him, a threat on a level he understood. His hand fidgeted towards his sheath-bearing wrist, his mind conjuring more and unblinded servants in the shadows. “Ischade
all her lovers died, softly, gently for the most part; but Enas Yorl was not particular in that regard. He paused a moment, hearing the great outer doors boom shut. The thief was on his way, thief to take a thief. And Enas Yorl felt a sudden cold. Wizards died, in Sanctuary, and this possibility fascinated him, taunted him with hope and fear: with fear—because shapes like this he wore turned him coward, reminding him there were pleasures to be had. He feared death at such times … while the
But even then, Tempus’s break with divinity was not complete. Hopefully, he stood as Vashanka in the recreation of the Ten-Slaying and Seduction of Azyuna, thinking to propitiate the god while saving face—to no avail. Soon after, hearing that his sister, Cime, had been apprehended slaying sorcerers wantonly in their beds, he had thrown the amulet of Vashanka, which he had worn since former times, out to sea from this very shore—he had had no choice. Only so much can be borne from men, so much
in the Maze or the Bazaar, and yet it only takes fifteen minutes to walk from one end of town to the other—or does it? I’m not sure. Take the Bazaar, for example. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in that bazaar and I don’t know exactly how it’s put together. Part of it is a farmers’ market (though I haven’t the faintest idea where the farmers are when they aren’t at the Bazaar). Other parts are like the cloth-fairs of medieval France, where merchants sell their wares wholesale. Still other