Steal from a god? What risks do thieves take when they seek a god’s power.
It was neither the tang of sea nor the rancidness of rotting fish, garbage and offal that roused me from my doze. Nor was it the creaking of ships at berth, the loading and off-loading of cargo, nor the movement and cries of men. No, it was none of the everyday stench and noise about the quay of Portside, that festering pustule that marks the fair cheek of uVaal, the Splendid City. It was the clinking of coin into my bowl. I raised my head.
“Tell me a story,” the stranger said. “They say that you know of the Eyes of Gaal.”
“Only thieves seek the Eyes of Gaal and their fate. Sit, and listen.”
It was the night of Full Sail, the month of the Squid, when the danger of Typhoon had passed. Revelers filled the streets of Ospraa By The Sea, the only city of the Isle of Mûta, whose name means death. . . .
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