[Booktalk] Thieves World; First Blood Pt. I

The genre of Sword & Sorcery, founded by the Triumvirate of Howard, Lovecraft and Smith in the 20s and 30s, enjoyed a lifespan of almost half a century before it went all but extinct in the mid 80s. Just before that time, however, a fascinating project was conceived.

Under the auspices of Robert Lynn Asprin and Lynn Abbey, a shared universe was concocted, set in the fictional city of Sanctuary on the outskirts of the Rankan Empire, with stories about its unscrupulous inhabitants contributed to an anthology by the cream of the American science fiction and fantasy community, with the likes of Poul Anderson, Joe Haldeman and A.E. van Vogt all contributing stories. A singular initiative for its time, directed by a visionary pair of editors, produced fascinating stories of immense variety and (mostly) excellent quality. Its popularity would lead to the publication of its own roleplaying game, and a cursory read through will reveal the influence of dungeons and dragons is by no means absent.

The best analogy for Thieves World would be a fantastic Sin City; Each story features a colorfully rogueish character getting embroiled in all manner of mischief with a tone veering between a classic S&s tale and a crime thriller. Fortune tellers, beggars, harlots, thieves, minstrels, assassins, magicians and crime lords, all cross paths and pursue their nebulous ends in the reeking streets of Sanctuary, a once prosperous caravan town now reduced to decrepitude and squalor. Organizing and connecting all the disparate tales are a few choice pieces by Abbey and to a lesser degree Aspirin, who really do a spectacular job tying it all together. The minor inconsistencies that might occur across the series are written off as the vaguaries of an unreliable narrator, for which I say huzzah! These are not meticulously compiled entries in the fictional chronology of a crime-ridden metropolis, but captivating character pieces, with plenty of swordplay and magic to thrill and entertain. The recurring appearance of not just characters but locations within Sanctuary proper help give the setting a sense of permanence and continuity. The setting is somewhere between Rome and Agrahbah, with the Rankan empire having a Persian or Indian character, exotic but grounded in reality.

The stories proper are best described as sword & sorcery adjacent. Most of the characters are a bit below the average S&S protagonist in terms of martial abilities and there are few expeditions where the hero sallies forth into the wilderness to test his mettle against hideous creatures and untameable nature. But the stories have a great deal of intrigue, swordplay, criminal hijinks, prostitutes and most certainly sorcery, and there is a dark, uncompromising undertone to the stories that is much closer to Fritz Leiber or R.E. Howard then it is to Tolkien or Pratt. Street-level fantasy might be a fine term for it.

The series would endure lasting success with over a dozen anthologies to its name, the last being published in 2004, though some seem to hold the view that the quality of the entries declined as the more capable authors drifted away from the project. The anthology First Blood is a compilation of the first two volumes.

As for the tales themselves:

Introduction (Robert Lynn Aspirin): A highly amusing exposition and overview of the setting through a series of linked vignettes, with an occasionally wryly humorous undertone. In the Emperor, the Rankan Emperor discusses the popularity of his brother Prince Kadakithis with his treacherous advisor, who recommends he be put to death, warning that some might use his sibling as a figurehead for a coup. At the same time, he must appoint a new military governor to the backwater city of Sanctuary. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, the two appoint Kadakithis to the position. The Town follows up with a discussion of Sanctuary’s history by the penurious Hakeem the Storyteller, a curmudgeonly beggar who makes his living telling stories in the marketplace, who might have been lifted straight from The Thief of Bagdad. He is soon badgered by a band of equally scruffy children:

“Tell us a story,” they chorused, surging around him.
“Be off with you, sandfleas!” he moaned, waving an arm. “The sun will be hot today. I’ll not add to the dryness of my throat by telling you stories for free!”
“Please Hakeem?,” one whined.
“We’ll fetch you water,” promised another.
“I have money.”
The last offer caught at Hakeems offer like a magnet. His eyes fastened hungrily on the copper coin extended in a grubby hand. That coin and four of its brothers would buy him a bottle of wine.

The story within the story, as in the history of Sanctuary is the only example of lore-heavy writing in the entire collection but it is actually fairly engaging. The survivors of a slave uprising in the rival kingdom of Ilsig flee to a fertile valley through the mountain pass. Exhausting the place through overfarming, their descendants move ever southward, and eventually found the city of Sanctuary together with some local fishermen. Over the decades, the city is held first by Islig and later by the Empire of Ranke. While at first a bustling caravan town along a prosperous trade route, the destruction of marauding hill tribes in the northern mountains means that the caravans have a safer and more direct route, and Sanctuary is soon reduced to penury, becoming a refuge for all manner of scum. The story ends with Hakeem meeting Prince Kadakithis and his elite guard, dubbed the Hellhounds by a wary populace, as they have just arrived in city. The concluding story The plan sets up the change to the status quo. The prince orders his five incorruptible Hellhounds to clean up Sanctuary and make it a respectable place again. An overview of the various neighborhoods and the topography of Sanctuary is quickly provided and the plan is set up: The Hellhounds are to crack down on petty crime in the affluent eastern districts, root out the smugglers that are a constant thorn in the eye of the empire, and introduce a tax to close down the brothels. With those balls set rolling, we sally forth into the exciting, larcenous world of Sanctuary.

Sentences of Death (John Brunner): A tale of sorcery, corruption and conspiracy. Jarveena, a former beggar turned assistant to the corrupt scribe Melilot, observes a meeting between himself and Aye-Gophlan, captain of the guard. He comes bearing a scroll with unknown writing, suspecting that it might be in Yenized, a rare dialect. It is actually concealed by sorcery, and was lost by the imperial commander Nizharu. The scheming scribe soon sends Jarveena on an errand to see how much the commander will pay for it to have it back, suspecting that he might have dropped it deliberately.

We are treated to a street-level view of life in Sanctuary. Bribes, spies, filth and danger, contrasted against the splendor and affluence of the Imperial court. The plot thickens with the introduction of the wizard Enas Yorl. Sorcerers in Thieves World are quintessentially Sword & Sorcery, eccentrics whose meddling with dark forces often exerts a hefty price on mind, body and soul. Yorl, an elusive riddler cursed with perpetual shape-shifting, deciphers the scroll in exchange for Jarveena’s caresses. The scroll reveals a plot to kill Prince Kadakithis and find a suitable victim to blame the crime on. With the aid of Melilot, they publicly reveal the plot, and thus save the Prince. Additional layers of the conspiracy and motivations for all the characters are revealed as the tale reaches its conclusion.

An attractive bit of writing, light on the action, more of a mood and character piece then a heavy detective tale, and about on par for the first anthology. The characters are scarred by hardship but possessed of a spirited nature that prevents the story from falling into Grimdark misery tourism. There is a strong element of overcoming, making do with a tough situation and thriving instead of wallowing in it.

“And with you no longer around to attract it,” he murmured to the air, “perhaps luck may lead that second death-sentence to be passed on one who wearies beyond measure of mad existence, sport of a hundred mindless spells, this miserable, this pitiable Enas Yorl.”
Yet some hope glimmered, like the red pits he had for eyes, in the knowledge that at least one person in the world thought more kindly of him then he himself. At length, with a snorting laugh, he covered the scrying glass and settled down resignedly to wait out the implacable transformation, a little comforted by knowing that so far he had never been the same shape twice.


The Face of Chaos (Lynn Abbey). Another grounded story of the fortune teller Illyria plying her trade on the Bazaar. Her life is thrown into upheaval as her husband Dubro’s anvil breaks beyond repair. With anvils only being available by caravan at exorbitant cost, and the last anvil being imported before Ranke took control of Sanctuary, they face destitution. Already distraught, she lays a fortune telling for a secretive patron, and sees for her a terrible doom. The plot thickens.

The woman Marilla’s father, a wealthy Ilsig loyalist who never accepted the empire, gets on the wrong side of the new archpriest Molin Torchholder. He has claimed their lands for the new temple to the Rankan Gods and even claims his daughter as a sacrifice to anoint it. The fortune teller agrees to help the woman in exchange for an old anvil that is located in their mansion, that they will soon abandon as they flee to Ilsig. But she will give it only if they can escape the doom that the cards foretold.

The steel cracked before she had travelled half the distance, and the anvil crumbled completely as she transferred it to him. Rain began to fall, washing away Dubro’s face, to reveal Lythande’s cruel, mocking smile. The magician struck her with the card marked with the Face of Chaos. And she died, only to find herself captive within her body, which was being carried by unseen hands to a vast pit. The dissonant music of priestly chants and cymbals surrounded her. Within the dream, Illyria opened her dead eyes to see a large block of stone descending into the pit over her.

Essentially a reverse heist story, the Rankan priesthood must be tricked and the drugged body of Marilla must be replaced with a corpse just before it is immured under the Cornerstone of the new temple. Nail biting tension, last-minute complications and a the last minute revelation of a more complicated intrigue, between the priests and gods of Ils and the priests and gods of Rankan, with meddling sorcerers in the middle, make this one a compelling read. Many characters are herein introduced that would get their own stories later in the volume, and their inclusion is fairly .

The Gate of the Flying Knives (Poul Anderson). The closest thing to a traditional S&S tale in the anthology by pen of the SF-grandmaster himself! Continuing on from an introduction in the previous story, The minstrel Cappen Varra has his life upended as his bossy mistress Danlia and her Ladyship Rosanda are abducted from the household of Molin Torch-holder, his patron. Once again penniless and out of work, he goes to find the identity of the kidnapper, finding them to be none other then the priesthood of Ils! He teams up with his companion Jamie, a broad-sword wielding fighting man, to rescue the two from a temple beyond this world and fight the terrible Sikkintair, known as the Flying Knife!

Cappen stumbled onward. From time to time he glanced back.
In the shadow of the wings Jamie’s hair blazed. He stood foursquare, spear grasped as a huntsman does. Agape, the Flying Knife rushed down upon him. Jamie thrust straight between those jaws, and twisted.
The monster let out a saw-toothed shriek. Its wings threshed, made thundercrack, it swooped by, a foot raked. Jamie had his claymore out. He parried the blow.

One hair’s breadth away from being a Fafhrd & the Grey Mauser story, in particular since many of the scenes concern the banter between the two companions and their respective paramours. The introduction of further characters like Shadowspawn, One-thumb the proprietor of the vulgar unicorn, and the return of Enas Yorl are incorporated well. Anderson’s choice of archaic prose makes the story feel a little stodgy, and at 30 pages it is already a bit chunky for its subject matter. Still, an enjoyable sword and sorcery romp, and the ending has the doltish Cappen Varra flee from his overbearing mistress who seeks to turn him into a respectable man, a proclamation of eternal youth that, in true S&S fashion, leaves him little better off at the end of the tale then when he started. Any sword and sorcery port in a 1980s storm.

As an aside, there was mention of Varra’s enchanted amulet that only protects against magic if five truths about the spellcaster are uttered, and I kept waiting for it to have a pay-off but it never did. Hopefully in some other tale!

Shadowspawn (Andre Offut). Another attempt that strikes close to S&S, this one markedly less successful. Hanse the rogue, the titular Shadowspawn, is taken with his latest paramour, an imperial concubine who is to help him steal the rod of authority from the Imperial Governor himself! Little does he know, he is himself a pawn in a greater intrigue between the concubine, the Hellhound Bourne and Prince Kadakithis’s enemies back in Ranke.

Despite the engaging premise, this is by far the worst story in the collection. Andre Offut, an editor and writer of over a hundred pornographic novels, gives an agonizing performance. It is difficult to put into words how teeth-gnashing the prose, with its irrelevant asides, bizarro sense of cool and subtly degenerate characters really is. It is not clear whether we are supposed to think Hanse is cool or a giant loser. What in the name of Garl-glittergold is slam-jingling?

His mop of hair was blacker then black and his eyes nearly so, under brows that just missed meeting above a nose not quite falcate. His walk reminded some of one of those red-and-black gamecocks brought over from Mrsevada. They called him Shadowspawn. No compliment was intended, and he objected until Cudget it was good to have a nickname, although he wished his own wasn’t Cudget Swearoath. Besides, Shadowspawn had a romantic and rather sinister sound, and that appealed to his ego, that was the largest thing about him. His height was almost average and he was rangy, wiry; swiftly wiry, with those bulgy rocks in his calves and biceps that other males wished they had.

It reads as if everything is coated in a quarter-inch of grease. I ended up hate-reading this to my fiance in controlled doses of 4 pages over the course of several weeks, to alternate bursts of laughter and incredulous groans. The story’s sole saving grace must be the action sequence at its end, when Hanse meets in a ruined villa by moonlight to get his reward, and faces Bourne, an elite fighting man in mail armor. The eventual meeting between Kadakithis and Hanse sets up the sequel where Hanse will be in service to the Imperial Governor. Heaven help us.

The Price of Doing Business (Robert Lynn Aspirin). An extremely awesome story about Jubal, an ex pit-fighter turned crime lord, and his near death at the hands of his enemies. Aspirin paints a vivid picture of a highly intelligent brute, who rules the city through intimidation, informants and his bands of hawk-masked mercenaries. For a moment we see a glimpse of the man underneath when Jubal accompanies a street child to receive a personal message from Hakeem the story-teller, and he speculates about adopting the clever boy as an heir.

The illusion is rudely shattered. In one of the most memorable parts of the whole book, Jubal is trapped in an alleyway and confronted by a mob of street children armed with knives, stones and sharpened sticks. Jubal had one of them killed as an example to keep his other informants in line, and now they want revenge. Can one man fight thirty children?

“You claim you are doing this to avenge one death,” Jubal sneered. “How many will die, trying to pull me down?”
“You feel free to kill us, one at a time, for no reason,” Mungo retorted, circling wide to join the pack. “If some of us die killing you, then at least the rest will be safe!”
“Only if you kill me,” Jubal retorted. Without taking his eyes from the pack, he reached his left hand over his right shoulder, found the knife hilt and wrenched it free. “And for that you’ll need your knife back!”

Jubal is eventually saved by the intervention of Zalbar, the Hellhound. Jubal attempts some show of gratitude by offering Zalbar to be his personal fighting man, but Zalbar is disgusted after he learns who he is and will take none of it. Jubal then attempts to cope by claiming Zalbar is no better then he is. Zalbar tells him he has traded his soul for gold, and leaves him in a pile of murdered street children. Spectacular performance from Aspirin.

Blood Brothers (Joe Haldeman). A second story about an even more villainous character. One-Thumb, the proprietor of the Vulgar Unicorn, is much more then he appears. An assassin, skilled in disguise, poison and swordplay, and ensorcelled with a dying curse that will fall on anyone that would kill him. We get a picture of a hardened criminal who strikes terror into everyone he deals with, whose iron control is slowly unravelling as he becomes utterly monstrous.

After acquiring a block of krrf (a sort of fantasy heroin) and disposing of the dealer in a gruesome fashion, One-Thumb is accosted by Amoli, proprietess of the Lily Garden, who claims the block belongs to her. It appears both parties have been duped. They visit Mizwraith, the most powerful wizard in Sanctuary, who maintains One-thumb’s dying curse. He is the most powerful in Sanctuary, borrowing the strength of many other wizards. The side-characters in Blood brothers are not loveable ruffians with hearts of gold but black-hearted villains. The plot explodes when it turns out his youngest son Marype, jealous of the power he would not teach him, has teamed up with his greatest rival Markmor. Before long there is a wizard fight, and the characters must flee the mansion, fearful of being caught in the crossfire.

In the smugglers tunnels below the city, One-thumb faces the wizard’s cruel trap. An assassin that is his perfect duplicate. His carefully controlled empire is uprooted in a single burst of violence. He faces his own dying curse, a fate worse then death, rendered with an almost William Gibson-esque psychedelic clarity.

They clung to eachother. One-Thumb watched bright blood spurt from the other’s back and heard his own blood falling as the pain grew. The dagger still in his left hand, he stabbed, almost idly. Again he stabbed. It seemed to take a long time. The pain grew. The other man was doing the same. A third, he watched the blade rise and slowly fall, and inching slide back out of the flesh. With every second the pain seemed to double; with every second, the flow of time slowed by half. Even the fall of blood was slowed, like a viscous oil falling through water as it sprayed away. And now it stopped completely, a thick scarlet web frozen there between his dagger and Lastel’s back – his own back – and as the pain spread and grew, marrow itself on fire, he knew he would look at that forever. For a flickering moment he saw the image of two sorcerers, smiling.

Probably my personal favorite.

Myrthis (Christine Dewees). A charming palette cleanser. Myrthis, the brothel queen of The Street of Red Lanterns, kept eternally young by wizardry, comes under the scrutiny of the Imperial Governor. The streets must be made clean! A tax on prostitutes, and another tax until they are undone. A save-the-clubhouse type of story, kept engaging by charming and rich characterwork, entertaining dialogue and a clever plot.

Dewees knows what she is doing, differentiating the brothel of Myrthis (The Aphrodisia), with its luxury and style, from The Lily Garden, introduced in the previous scene, which addicts its staff to krrf, by having the characters meet in a way that is perfectly natural. Myrthis already understands that if the brothels go under, the merchants will lose a lot of business, and create massive disruption throughout the already impoverished Sanctuary. The one problem is the person sent to levvy the Tax, the incorruptible Hell Hound Zalbar. She solves this by, uh, well, that is to say…

It appeared in Zalbar first. He became bored with his counting, fondling one coin while his eyes drifted off towards nothingness. Myrtis took the coin from his fingers. The potion took longer to affect her, and its action when it did was lessened by the number of times she had taken it before and by the age-inhibiting spells Lythande wove about her. She had not needed the potion, however, to summon an attraction towards the handsome soldier, or to coax him to his feet and then towards her bed.

By drugging both herself and him with a LOVE POTION to seal the deal! Clever if technically rape! The action does save the lives of dozens and indirectly hundreds of people (I believe this is called the Bill Cosby defence) and we end on a strangely melancholy note, appreciating the price Myrthis has paid for this eternal youth, that she has long ago exchanged the prospect of true love and settling down for beauty that never fades, for all her lovers will wither and die in time.

The Secret of the Blue Star (Marion Zimmer Bradley). A compelling story, marred by certain real world events that came to light after Bradley’s passing (I will explain at the end) and its implications about the story. Lythande the Wizard bears a blue pentagram on his face and is part of the secretive Order of the Blue Star, sworn to fight the forces of Chaos at the end of the world. In the mean-time, its adherents intrigue and plot, for each of the initiates of the order has a Secret, a dreadful vow which, if discovered, means the Wizard loses all of his powers. Questions pertaining to the Secret must be answered truthfully. Lythande never drinks and eats, never takes a lover, and is covered in thick grobes and gloves. The wizard’s rival, Rabben the Half-handed, has come to Sanctuary, and the two are not on good terms.

Lythande discovers Rabben accosting an under-age prostitute Bercy in the park of sanctuary. After a battle of powers, Rabben is neutralized, and she flees with the prostitute to The Aphrodisia. The girl has fallen madly in love with Lythande, who now faces a problem, for to consummate the love would reveal her Secret, and to not do so would point Rabben in the direction also. Indeed Rabben is behind it, having ensorcelled the girl as a trap for Lythande. A compromise is made, the girl is put up in the brothel, and Lythande makes wizard love to her with an illusionary wraith of herself as a man, for her great secret is that she is a woman. She resolves to leave the girl in the care of Myrthis, her sister, the only person who she can confide in. The writing here is clever, with Bradley maneuvering around the use of gendered pronouns with the exception of a single strategic she in the beginning, clueing us in, or having us wonder if she has made a mistake. Lythande, loving the girl also, must suffer the pain of never being able to reveal who she truly is.

It is a good story, in terms of characters, pacing and fantastic elements. If this were published today it would likely take the form of a groan-inducing paean to the exalted martyrdom of homosexuality but the story works here because it hints at something we can all relate to, that of having to live a lie in order to participate and advance in society. You get a glimpse of the struggle, the bitterness, the price that is paid. The particular form of taboo’d behavior is almost irrelevant here…except it is probably not.

For the first and last time, Lythande bent over her and pressed her lips in a long, infintel tender kiss. And as she sank into exhausted, ecstatic sleep, Lythande wept.

Long before she woke, Lythande stood, girt for travel, in the little room belonging to Myrtis. “The spell will hold. She will make all haste to carry her tale to Rabben – the tale of Lythande, the incomparable lover! Of Lythande, of untiring virility, who can love a maiden unto exhaustion!” The rich voice of Lythande was harsh with bitterness.

Now for some unpleasant context; Marion Zimmer Bradley was posthumously accused by her own daughter of child abuse along with her second husband, the convicted child abuser and nambla activist Walter Breen. I mention this because it casts rather chilling implications on the choices of some of the elements within the story, the nature of the Secret, the underage romance (which can not now be written off as chosen to add a bit of grit) etc. A sour note to punctuate what would otherwise be a perfectly fine story.

We will cover the second part, Tales of the Vulgar Unicorn at a later date. Obviously the first anthology as a whole is a great collection of fantasy tales and if you can find it somewhere, do pick it up, it is quite good. For now, have a great weekend.

As a side note, I do have the next week off and I have received all the final edits, so I expect No Artpunk vol 2. to be properly finished by then.