The First Book of Lankhmar by Fritz Leiber Read Free Book Online Page A

territory now, at the mercy of their element, which is crueler and subtler than fire," Fafhrd interposed, brushing away the last of the bulgings, so that the hoops stood up again and the leather stretched almost flat between them. "Do not underrate their powers."
           "Thank you for saving my tent from being crumpled. But now — and swiftly — go."
           She spoke as if of trivial matters, but her large eyes were thoughtful.
           Just before snaking under the back wall, Fafhrd looked over his shoulder. Vlana was gazing at the side wall again, holding the empty cup he had given her, but she caught his movement and, now smiling tenderly, put a kiss on her palm and blew it toward him.
           Outside the cold had grown bitter. Nevertheless, Fafhrd went to his clump of evergreens, drew his cloak closely around him, dropped its hood over his forehead, tightened the hood's drawstring, and sat himself facing Vlana's tent.
           When the cold began to penetrate his furs, he thought of Vlana.
           Suddenly he was crouching and had loosened his knife in its sheath.
           A figure was approaching Vlana's tent, keeping to the shadows when it could. It appeared to be clad in black.
           Fafhrd silently advanced.
           Through the still air came the faint sound of fingernails scratching leather.
           There was a flash of dim light as the doorway was opened.
           It was bright enough to show the face of Vellix the Venturer. He stepped inside and there was the sound of lacings being drawn tight.
           Fafhrd stopped ten paces from the tent and stood there for perhaps two dozen breaths. Then he softly walked past the tent, keeping the same distance.
           There was a glow in the doorway of the high, conical tent of Essedinex. From the stables beyond, a horse whickered twice.
           Fafhrd crouched and peered through the low, glowing doorway a knife-cast away. He moved from side to side. He saw a table crowded with jugs and cups set against the sloping wall of the tent opposite the doorway.
           To one side of the table sat Essedinex. To the other, Hringorl.
           On the watch for Hor, Harrax, or Hrey, Fafhrd circled the tent. He approached it where the table and the two men were faintly silhouetted. Drawing aside his hood and hair, he set his ear against the leather.
           "Three gold bars — that's my top," Hringorl was saying surlily. The leather made his voice hollow.
           "Five," Essedinex answered, and there was the slup of wine mouthed and swallowed.
           "Look here, old man," Hringorl countered, his voice at its most gruffly menacing, "I don't need you. I can snatch the girl and pay you nothing."
           "Oh no, that won't do, Master Hringorl." Essedinex sounded merry. "For then the Show would never return again to Cold Corner, and how would your tribesmen like that? Nor would there be any more girls brought you by me."
           "What matter?" the other answered carelessly. The words were muffled by a gulp of wine, yet Fafhrd could hear the bluff in them. "I have my ship. I can cut your throat this instant and snatch the girl tonight."
           "Then do so," Essedinex said brightly. "Only give me a moment for one more quaff."
           "Very well, you old miser. Four gold bars."
           "Five."
           Hringorl cursed sulfurously. "Some night, you ancient pimp, you will provoke me too far. Besides, the girl is old."
           "Aye, in the ways of pleasure. Did I tell you that she once became an acolyte of the Wizards of Azorkah? — so that she might be trained by them to become a concubine of the King of Kings and their spy in the court at Horborixen. Aye, and eluded those dread necromancers most cleverly when she had gained the erotic knowledge she desired."
           Hringorl laughed with a forced lightness. "Why should I pay even one