River of Thieves

by Clayton Snyder

  As a rule, I don't. Cord taught me that. There's enough to deal with in the now that dwelling on the what-if will drive your brain right into the nearest cask. It was a lesson I only took half to heart. I still think of Cord. I think of the thing I'd seen at the last moment as I tumbled through the air, that of a flash of light and something fleet, like a fox, slipping across the outside of the tower. I think of Cord's last words, and sometimes wonder, when it's very quiet, if I whistle, will he come running?

  Then I remember I threw that horrible whittled dick in the ocean.

  Acknowledgements

  There are a lot of people to thank for making this book happen. Alternatively, you can curse them. My beta readers: Justine, Angela, and Krystle. My editor-in-a-pinch and all-around good idea person, Krystle again. Twitter, for ideas that had me laughing so hard I had to add them to the text, and to Sadir for the tomato bandit. To the fantasy community, for having the kind of sense of humor that lets me poke a little fun. Finally, to Shelly. I wrote something that made you laugh. I told you I’m funny, damn it.