Wings of Omen - Thieves World 06 (27 page)

He skipped away laughing, and walked smiling about town so that others wondered what he could possibly be so happy about. Why, people were actually fleeing, with an invasion fleet almost in the harbor! Hanse, however, was become a child with a marvelous new toy, the most mar-velous of toys. A block or so later he saw a twice-attractive woman and wished that he might have her, whereupon she looked around and saw him. She came straight to him, all jingle and jiggle and sway of hips and flash of teeth.

"You're beautiful," she assured him. "Take me to bed!" But by the time they had reached the building wherein he had a second-floor room, he had seen another, and sort of traded in the first, who went away happily with no memory of what she had said and done or rather almost done. He had learned something already! And how cheap lessons were, not as in real life. The second was absolutely beautiful and with a very nice figure indeed, but he soon found that behind closed doors and on a bedsheet she was an absolute dud. He improved that with another wish....

At about dusk he departed, a bit weak in the legs but happy (he'd had to resort to a wish to get her to leave him alone and go away), for he had thought of a wonderful mission for himself: Hanse Godslayer. Along the way his stomach rumbled. He wished he had an apple, so the first vendor he passed called "Hey!" and tossed him a beauty.

Walking along eating with relish, he thought, / wish that redhead would walk with me; we'd look good together! She did of course, but that led to some difficulty when her husband appeared and demanded explanation, and Hanse learned something else of this new power. Something prompted him to wish that the couple would forget him and go happily home and be happy ever after and it was the nicest thing any human ever did for another, surely. With the help of Ils, of course. Marvelously attentive god, that Iis!

Arrived at the dock, he found a nervous throng and moved among them. Listening, observing, thinking, seeing their fear and ridiculous hopes. ("Whoever it is, they've come to drive off the Rankans and leave us in peace!" -Sure, Hanse thought. "There's always a great profit to be made from newcomers to town!" Sure, Hanse thought, especially when they come easing up in over a hundred ships. Oh, sure!)

Then he stood tall and straight and confident, and smiled, and while he gazed at all those approaching sails he wished that they would turn around and go away and never bother Sanctuary.

They came on and Hanse learned something else. Some things, big things, must take longer even for Ils! Tomorrow they'd be gone! That didn't happen either, and Hanse had to accept what he had already known: that not all things were possible, and that while Ils was a god. He was not the god. Others existed, and the powers of gods had fences and boundaries. (On the other hand, that night he enjoyed a meal beyond mere good, a fabulous meal, in the very house of Shafralain, just because Hanse had seen that wealthy noble and wished that he'd invite Hanse in for dinner. ... Naturally he spent the night in the company and arms of Esaria, again. When he awoke before dawn it occurred to him that he was better off leaving now and wishing they'd all forget this whole night. On his way home, he wished that Esaria would know much, much happiness in her life, and again Hanse had done the unlikely: good. Next day the fascinating but ugly oversea folk landed and tramped into town. It did not take long to discover that they had come to take over, and were expediting that. By afternoon he had tried thirteen several wishes against them. None took. On the other hand, when one of the unblinking creeps accosted him and indicated that Hanse was wanted for something, he wished the ugly never-blinking creep would just start sneezing and continue for a nice long while. That happened, and Hanse went on his way chuckling. Individual Beysibs, obviously, were easy for Ils.

He wandered over to the east side of town, and stood gazing up at a fine lofting mansion he had always admired. He had always wanted to break into that place and see what was there, and remove a few thises and thats. "I wish I could," he muttered, and it was easy, easy. He sold the nice things he removed from the premises, but that seemed silly, somehow, as the coin was counted out to him by a no-questions denizen of the Maze; all this trouble when he could merely wish for money, all he wanted!

Of course he had enjoyed all the passionate kisses and fondling of two lovely slaves of that house, and of course he had wished that on the morrow their master would take a notion to free them and give them a nice departing present, too. Eternal Ils, he had done it again-Hanse had done good!

The money business occupied his mind to a considerable extent. He bethought him of all that Rankan coin down in the well up at Eaglebeak. It was an odd wish he made, then, but he liked the idea: "When I do go for it I wish that it would rise up out of the well to me, and be no trouble-oh! Oh I wish she'd just amble right over here and think I'm handsome and want to night with-no, no, offer me a fine wine-red cloak-dark!-to night with her!"

When he and she-her name was Bumgada, but what's in a name?-arose from bed next morning, happy with each other, he thought that something had been forgotten. No, no; she took him right out and downtown and bought him both breakfast and a fine scarlet cloak-a long dark one-and didn't that raise eyebrows. As they were walking along, she said something and Hanse said something and added, "Oh, and Bumma-I wish you'd just forget everything that happened since just before you saw me yesterday-but not get into any trouble for it at all, and have a nice happy life."

"Excuse me," she said, as if she had just bumped into him, and went on her way, wherever that was. Hanse ambled along, wondering what she did remember, and what those slavegirls remembered, and what Esaria and indeed her family and servants remembered, and...

He had to find out. It was a dreadfully naughty idea, but he did have to find out, didn't he? He made a wish, involving the awaiting in his bed of a certain person when he reached his room. Next he wished that he could pick ten pockets without being discovered, but that turned out to be stupid and a bore because it was so easy. Besides, he lost count and the eleventh victim grabbed his hand and let out a yell and Hanse had to do some mighty fast wishing. He stopped running after a couple of blocks. After all, it wasn't as if he had to, anymore. Just a pleasant habit of long duration.

He found another limit to the power of Ils by wishing that Tempus and his boys would clean up on the Beysibs-maybe that was the way to do it!

Wrong; instead, Tempus and his boys left town and a lot of half-competents and worse began showing up. One gave him trouble and Hanse wished the fool would just fall down on his own dagger, but when it happened he really didn't feel very good about it. After a couple of blocks he turned around and went back. That was how he discovered that he couldn't raise the dead. As he passed a fine tavern for the wealthy and lordly, he chuckled aloud. Wishing that they'd treat him in manner lordly and "remember" that he had paid in advance, and well, he ambled in. An hour later he left, stuffed, with the manager and tableman thanking him and wishing him well and swift return. He was groaning along, feeling stuffed with more than he should have eaten and far richer fare too, when a thought hit him hard. He immediately expressed the wish that none of the women he had disported himself with had got a child of his. Nor anyone I happen to find in my bed tonight, he thought, and smiled a secret smile. And went home.

Her name was Mignureal and she was Moonflower's daughter and she had seen him as no one should see any man, doubly one so cocky and full of needs as Shadow spawn: she had seen him gibbering in sorcery-induced fear one night. She had taken him home with her and tended him with her nervous mother staying close, having seen Mignue's soft eyes admiring Hanse. On another occasion he had been about to set forth on a dreadful mission she did riot even know about when a look of strange intensity came over her face. "Oh Hanse-Hanse, take the crossed brown pot with you."

With an eerie feeling, he did that. It was the night on which his mission was to get a pitifully maimed Tempus out of the dripping hands of one Kurd, a man whose occupation bore that which was surely the ugliest word in any language: vivisectionist. Cutter-up of the living-and not as physician, either. As it turned out, the brown pot's contents saved his life that night, and he knew that Mignureal the S'danzo had some of her mother's power of Seeing. And then.. .and then it had been Mignureal's form the goddess Eshi had taken, to fetch him to that final dreadful confrontation with Vashanka.

And Eshi seems to love me-at least wants me, he mused, wending his full-bellied, red-cloaked way homeward. Does Mignureal?

And after a few steps more: How old is she, anyhow?

Ah Gods ofllsig-what has that to do with anything? I don't even know how old I am!

Yet he knew that he knew, as he walked on all wrapped in his thoughts and new cloak, who and what he was: the son of some woman of Downwind and... Shalpa. A god. Demi-mortal, Vashanka had called him. That was a phrase that implied another half: demigod. Hanse was a demigod.

How in Ten Hells can I live with that?

How in Eleven Hells can I live with this wishing business?! Anything I want-it's well nigh boring already!

He reached home, and his room, and she was there, small and lovely and vulnerable-looking in her nakedness, sitting up in his bed to smile and stretch forth her shapely arms to him as he entered. Mignureal, little Mignureal daughter of the woman Hanse loved but did not even know he wished were his mother.

"Darling! I thought you'd never come home to me!" He turned to close the door and pretended to have trouble with the latch, keeping his back to her while he frowned and wrestled with thoughts and emotions.

So she slid out of the bed and came to him. She was all willowy and even lovelier, naked and softly lit, for there was only the light of the bright moon that smiled boldly through the window.

Unable to resist her nearness and upraised arms, he stepped into her embrace and as they kissed his hands moved all over the back of her, from nape to sulcus and back. Both of them trembled, and both longed.

"Mignue, Mignue... what are you doing here?"

She smiled, pressed to him, and nuzzled his neck. "You know what I am doing here, Hanse."

"Please... why did you come, Mignue? Why tonight? What prompted you to come tonight?"

"Because I wanted to be with you, darling-to be yours." He squeezed his eyes shut. Oh damn, damn. Six more questions elicited similar lovely yet unsatisfactory answers. It was all circular. She has no idea and probably didn't really want to do this at all, he thought in growing agony, she's here because I wished it and Ils sent her, that's all, and I feel... I feel just so, so... rotten!

She had just unbuckled and removed his belt, both sheaths included, and laid it carefully aside on the old keg he used as nightstand. She turned only her head, to give him an arch look over her shoulder. Hanse swallowed hard, and again. He felt truly evil, truly a monster.

She turned to face him with her hands behind her back and her head partly down, flaunting her breasts, and swung her torso this way and that far more in the manner of a little girl than a temptress. Her eyes and voice, however, were not those of a little girl: "Want me, Hanse?"

"Us and Eshi-who could not want you, Mignue? I-" But that was the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances, which involved his mental state; a joyous smile sunned over her face and she ran to him across two whole feet, her arms whipping around him. Hanse stood stiff, one hand just touching her, while he chewed his lip and wished that he were-No! I wish that if ever I wish that I were dead, it be not considered a wish! And "Oh," Mignue said, low, having discovered herself pressing against a very aroused male. And her arms around him clamped the harder, and she pressed in harder. He stroked her thick and very soft hair. Revelation and inspiration hit him and he said it aloud: "Ah, Mignue, Mignue... I wish that you wanted to wrap yourself in my nice new cloak and just talk a while."

"This may sound awful," she said against his chest, "but know what I'd like to do?"

Yes, he did.

She looked unequivocally and downright dangerously fetching in that wine-dark cloak, especially sitting on his bed with her legs drawn up (within the cloak, gods be thanked). Yes, of course she remembered telling him to take the crossed brown pot-and hadn't he? -Yes. And had it proven useful? -Yes. And he told her of that night, and she was astonished that he had done all that, rescuing the mighty and apparently immortal Tempus. Yet, that she had saved his life did not astonish her.

"It is the S'danzo, Hanse. You must know that a S'danzo never tells a client that she foresees his death. Never. Nor does a S'danzo dare try to interfere with the way of a world and the will of the gods, other than to suggest that that person have a care." She sat with her arms enwrapping her drawn-up legs and her hand clasping her wrist, and she was not looking at the young man who sat on the windowsill with his feet on the floor. He had drawn the drapes almost closed, but the room was as if twilit, not nighted.

"On the other hand... with those we love, we S'danzo cannot See as well, because the emotions are involved-you know, darling. But! There is a compensation. Sometimes we can See the danger, often without realizing it, and See just what those we love should do to avoid or to, uh, cope with it." Hanse blinked. She is telling me that she loves me... and has for over a year!

Oh! Oh, g-Ils, Ils, god of my fa-hmp!-my mother. God of Gods... I wish that I knew whether that were true or not! Or not, I say!