Aftermath by ed. by Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey

By ed. by Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey

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I'm sorry," he said quietly. They both knew what he meant. " she asked, letting the moment pass. " He followed her into the dining area, seating himself at the scarred wooden table. She handed him a goblet, the best she had. He poured the wine; the sound of the goblet filling reverberated loudly in the room. He put the decanter down, not looking at her, not touching the drink. " She bowed her head. "I, yes. He ... " "A little. He didn't like the Rankans"-her voice got softer-"but he wasn't really involved, not in a ...

Those dark eyes, so kind, so full of pain. His gentle touch, warm breath on her neck. He's gone and she didn't even know why they had killed him. "Gods, have mercy," but there were no tears to punctuate her plea. They had dried up in the horror of the last months. If he had fallen, or gotten sick, if he had even just died, but this ... that pale body. Sarah knew the memory would never leave her. "He's gone," she said aloud, slumping down in a cool comer. Thank the All-Mother for the Lady Marissa.

He stood before a broken wall, four feet high. It outlined the remains of a building, the mud bricks cracked and decaying in the sun. This had been his home, so long ago. The home he still dreamed about at night, in the dark, alone. This pathetic shell was all that was left of the passion and terror of his childhood. He walked through what had once been the doorway, though there had never been a door, just a ragged piece of blanket. Standing in the middle of the room he was surprised to see how small it was.

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