Swords and Deviltry – Book 1 of the “Fafhrd and Gray Mouser” series by Fritz Leiber

He broke off to lift his hands so that he was holding her half above him, grasping her gently below the armpits, rather than she propped on her arms. “Let me come south with you, Vlana,” he said eagerly, “whether as member of your troupe or moving alone—though I am a singing skald, I can also sword dance, juggle four whirling daggers, and hit with one at ten paces a mark the size of my thumbnail. And when we get to Lankhmar City, perhaps disguised as two Northerners, for you are tall, I’ll be your good right arm of vengeance. I can thieve by land, too, believe me, and stalk a victim through alleys, I should think, as sightlessly and silently as through forests. I can—”

Vlana, supported by his hands, laid a palm across his lips while her other hand wandered idly under the long hair at the back of his neck. “Darling,” she said, “I doubt not that you are brave and loyal and skillful for a lad of eighteen. And you make love well enough for a youth—quite well enough to hold your white-furred girl and mayhap a few more wenches, if you choose. But, despite your ferocious words—forgive my frankness—I sense in you honesty, nobility even, a love of fair play, and a hatred of torture. The lieutenant I seek for my revenge must be cruel and treacherous and fell as a serpent, while knowing at least as much as I of the fantastically twisty ways of the great cities and the ancient guilds. And, to be blunt, he must be old as I, which you miss by almost the fingers of two hands. So come kiss me, dear boy, and pleasure me once more and—”

Fafhrd suddenly sat up, and lifted her a little and sat her down, so that she sat sideways on his thighs, he shifting his grasp to her shoulders.

“No,” he said firmly. “I see nothing to be gained by subjecting you once more to my inexpert caresses. But—”

“I was afraid you would take it that way,” she interrupted unhappily. “I did not mean—”

“But,” he continued with cool authority, “I want to ask you one question. Have you already chosen your lieutenant?”

“I will not answer that,” she replied, eyeing him as coolly and confidently.

“Is he—?” he began and then pressed his lips together, catching the name “Vellix” before it was uttered.

She looked at him with undisguised curiosity as to what his next move would be. “Very well,” he said at last, dropping his hands from her shoulders and propping himself with them. “You have tried, I think, to act in what you believe to be my best interests, so I will return like with like. What I have to reveal indicts barbarism and civilization equally.” And he told her of Essedinex’ and Hringorl’s plan for her.

She laughed heartily when he was done, though he fancied she had turned a shade pale.

“I must be slipping,” she commented. “So that was why my somewhat subtle mimings so easily pleased Seddy’s rough and ready tastes, and why there was a place open for me in the troupe, and why he did not insist I whore for him after the Show, as the other girls must.” She looked at Fafhrd sharply. “Some pranksters overset Seddy’s tent this midnight. Was it—?”

He nodded. “I was in a strange humor, last night, merry yet furious.”

Honest, delighted laughter from her then, followed by another of the sharp looks. “So you did not go home when I sent you away after the Show?”

“Not until afterward,” he said. “No, I stayed and watched.”

She looked at him in a tender, mocking, wondering way which asked quite plainly, “And what did you see?” But this time he found it very easy not to name Vellix.

“So you’re a gentleman, too,” she joked. “But why didn’t you tell me about Hringorl’s base scheme earlier? Did you think I’d become too frightened to be amorous?”

“A little of that,” he admitted, “but it was chiefly that I did not decide until this moment to warn you. Truth to tell, I only came back to you tonight because I was frightened by ghosts, though later I found other good reasons. Indeed, just before I came to your tent, fear and loneliness—yes, and a certain jealousy too—had me minded to hurl myself into Trollstep Canyon, or else don skis and attempt the next-to-impossible leap which has teased my courage for years….”

She clutched his upper arm, digging in fingers. “Never do that,” she said very seriously. “Hold onto life. Think only of yourself. The worst always changes for the better—or oblivion.”

“Yes, so I was thinking when I would have let the air over the canyon decide my destiny. Would it cradle me or dash me down? But selfishness, of which I’ve a plenty whatever you think—that and a certain leeriness of all miracles—quashed that whim. Also, I was earlier half minded to trample your tent before pulling down the Show Master’s. So there is some evil in me, you see. Aye, and a shut-mouthed deceitfulness.”

She did not laugh, but studied his face most thoughtfully. Then for a time the enigma-look came back into her eyes. For a moment Fafhrd thought he could peer past it, and he was troubled, for what he thought he glimpsed behind those large, brown-irised pupils was not a sibyl surveying the universe from a mountaintop, but a merchant with scales in which he weighed objects most carefully, at whiles noting down in a little book old debts and new bribes and alternate plans for gain.

But it was only one troubling glimpse, so his heart joyed when Vlana, whom his big hands still held tilted above him, smiled down into his eyes and said, “I will now answer your question, which I would and could not earlier. For I have only this instant decided that my lieutenant will be … you. Hug me on it!”

Fafhrd grappled her with eager warmth and a strength that made her squeal, but then just before his body had fired unendurably, she pushed up from him, saying breathlessly, “Wait, wait! We must first lay our plans.”

“Afterward, my love. Afterward,” he pleaded, straining her down.

“No!” she protested sharply. “Afterward loses too many battles to Too Late. If you are lieutenant, I am captain and give directions.”

“Harkening in obedience,” he said, giving way. “Only be swift.”

“We must be well away from Cold Corner before kidnap time,” she said. “Today I must gather my things together and provide us with sleigh, swift horses, and a store of food. Leave all that to me. You behave today exactly as is your wont, keeping well away from me, in case our enemies set spies on you, as both Seddy and Hringorl are most like to do—”

“Very well, very well,” Fafhrd agreed hurriedly. “And now, my sweetest—”

“Hush and have patience! To cap your deception, climb into the roof of Godshall well before the Show, just as you did last night. There just might be an attempt to kidnap me during the Show—Hringorl or his men becoming overeager, or Hringorl seeking to cheat Seddy of his gold—and I’ll feel safest with you on watch. Then when I exit after wearing the toga and the silver bells, come you down swiftly and meet me at the stable. We’ll escape during the break between the first and second halves of the Show, when one way or another all are too intent on what more’s coming, to take note of us. You’ve got that? Stay far away today? Hide in the roof? Join me at the halves break? Very well! And now, darlingest lieutenant, banish all discipline. Forget every atom of respect you owe your captain and—”

But now it was Fafhrd’s turn to delay. Vlana’s talk had allowed time for his own worries to rouse and he held her away from him although she had knit her hands behind his neck and was straining to draw their two bodies together.

He said, “I will obey you in every particular. Only one warning more, which it’s vital you heed. Think as little as you can today about our plans, even while performing actions vital to them. Keep them hid behind the scenery of your other thoughts. As I shall mine, you may be sure. For Mor my mother is a great reader of minds.”

“Your mother! Truly she has overawed you inordinately, darling, in a fashion which makes me itch to set you wholly free—oh, do not hold me off! Why, you speak of her as if she were the Queen of Witches.”

“And so she is, make no mistake,” Fafhrd assured her dourly. “She is the great white spider, while the whole Cold Waste, both above and below, is her web, on which we flies must go tippy-toe, o’erstepping sticky stretches. You will heed me?”

“Yes, yes, yes! And now—”

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