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VERSION 1.0 dtd 032600ILL MET IN LANKHMARFritz LeiberSilent as specters, the tall and the fat thief edged past thedead, noose-strangled watch-leopard, out the thick, lock-picked door of Jengao the Gem Merchant, and strolledeast on Cash Street through the thin black night-smog ofLankhmar.East on Cash it had to be, for west at Cash and Silverwas a police post with unbribed guardsmen restlesslygrounding and rattling their pikes.But tall, tight-lipped Slevyas, master thief candidate,and fat, darting-eyed Fissif, thief second class, with arating of talented in double-dealing, were not in the leastworried. Everything was proceeding according to plan.Each carried thonged in his pouch a smaller pouch ofjewels of the first water only, for Jengao, now breathingstertoriously inside and senseless from the slugging he'dsuffered, must be allowed, nay, nursed and encouraged tobuild his business again and so ripen it for another pluck-ing. Almost the first law of the Thieves Guild was neverto kill the hen that laid eggs with a ruby in the yolk.The two thieves also had the relief of knowing thatthey were going straight home now, not to a wife. Arathforbid! --or to parents and children, all gods forfend!but to Thieves' House, headquarters and barracks of thealmighty Guild, which was father to them both andmother too, though no woman was allowed inside its ever-open portal on Cheap Street.In addition there was the comforting knowledge thatalthough each was armed only with his regulation silver-hilted thief's knife, they were nevertheless most stronglyconvoyed by three reliable and lethal bravoes hired forthe evening from the Slayers' Brotherhood, one movingwell ahead of them as point, the other two well behindas rear guard and chief striking force.And if all that were not enough to make Slevyas andFissif feel safe and serene, there danced along soundlesslybeside them in the shadow of the north curb a small, mal-formed or at any rate somewhat large-headed shape thatmight have been a very small dog, a somewhat under-sized cat, or a very big rat.True, this last guard was not an absolutely unalloyedreassurance. Fissif strained upward to whisper softly inSlevyas' long-lobed ear, "Damned if I like being doggedby that familiar of Hristomilo, no matter what securityhe's supposed to afford us. Bad enough that Krovas didemploy or let himself be cowed into employing a sorcererof most dubious, if dire, reputation and aspect, but that""Shut your trap!" Slevyas hissed still more softly.Fissif obeyed with a shrug and employed himself indarting his gaze this way and that, but chiefly ahead.Some distance in that direction, in fact just short ofGold Street, Cash was bridged by an enclosed second-story passageway connecting the two buildings whichmade up the premises of .the famous stone-masons andsculptors Rokkermas and Slaarg. The firm's buildingsthemselves were fronted by very shallow porticoes sup-ported by unnecessarily large pillars of varied shape anddecoration, advertisements more than structural members.From just beyond the bridge came two low, brief whis-tles, a signal from the point bravo that he had inspectedthat area for ambushes and discovered nothing suspiciousand that Gold Street was clear.Fissif was by no means entirely satisfied by the safetysignal. To tell the truth, the fat thief rather enjoyed beingapprehensive and even fearful, at least up to a point. Sohe scanned most closely through the thin, sooty smogthe frontages and overhangs of Rokkermas and Slaarg.On this side the bridge was pierced by four small win-dows, between which were three large niches in whichstood another advertisement three life-size plaster stat-ues, somewhat eroded by years of weather and dyedvaryingly tones 'of dark gray by as many years of smog.Approaching Jengao's before the burglary, Fissif hadnoted them. Now it seemed to him that 'the statue to theright had indefinably changed. It was that of a man ofmedium height wearing cloak and hood, who gazed downwith crossed arms and brooding aspect. No, not indefin-ably quite the statue was a more uniform dark graynow, he fancied, cloak, hood, and face; it seemed some-what sharper featured, less eroded; and he would almostswear it had grown shorter!Just below the niches, moreover, there was a scatteringof gray and raw white rubble which he didn't recall hav-ing been there earlier. He strained to remember if duringthe excitement of the burglary, the unsleeping watch-corner of his mind had recorded a distant crash, and nowhe believed it had. His quick imagination pictured thepossibility of a hole behind each statue, through which itmight be given a strong push and so tumbled onto passers-by, himself and Slevyas specifically, the right-hand statue'having been crashed to test the device and then replacedwith a near twin.He would keep close watch on all the statues as heand Slevyas walked under. It would be easy to dodge ifhe saw one start to over-balance. Should he yank Slevyasout of harm's way when that happened? It was somethingto think about.His restless attention fixed next on the porticoes andpillars. The latter, thick and almost three yards tail, wereplaced at irregular intervals as well as being irregularlyshaped and fluted, for Rokkermas and Slaarg were mostmodern and emphasized the unfinished look, randomness,and the unexpected.Nevertheless it seemed to Fissif, that there was an in-tensification of unexpectedness, specifically that there wasone more pillar under the porticoes than when he hadlast passed by. He couldn't be sure which pillar was thenewcomer, but he was almost certain there was one.The enclosed bridge was close now. Fissif glanced upat the right-hand statue and noted other differences fromthe one he'd recalled. Although shorter, it seemed to holditself more strainingly erect, while the frown carved in itsdark gray face was not so much one of philosophic brood-ing as sneering contempt, self-conscious cleverness, andconceit.Still, none of the three statues toppled forward as heand Slevyas walked under the bridge. However, somethingelse happened to Fissif at that moment.One of the pillars winked at him.The Gray Mouser turned round in the right-hand niche,leaped up and caught hold of the cornice, silently vaultedto the flat roof, and crossed it precisely in time to see thetwo thieves emerge below.Without hesitation he leaped forward and down, hisbody straight as a crossbow bolt, the soles of his ratskinboots aimed at the shorter thief's fat-buried shoulderblades, though leading him a little to allow for the yardhe'd walk while the Mouser hurtled toward him.la 'the instant that he leaped, the tall thief glanced upover-shoulder and whipped out a knife, 'though makingno move to push or pull Fissif out of the way of thehuman projectile speeding toward him.More swiftly than one would have thought he couldmanage, Fissif whirled round then and thinly screamed,"Slivikin!"The ratskin boots took him high in the belly. It was likelanding on a big cushion. Writhing aside from Slevyas'thrust, the Mouser somersaulted forward, and as the fatthief's skull hit a cobble with a dull bang he came to hisfeet with dirk in hand, ready to take 'on the tall one.But there was no need. Slevyas, ibis eyes glazed, wastoppling too.One of the pillars had .sprung forward, trailing a vol-uminous robe. A big hood had fallen back from a youthfulface and long-haired head. Brawny arms had emergedfrom the long, loose sleeves that had been the pillar'stopmost section. While the big fist ending one of the 'armshad dealt Slevyas a shrewd knockout punch on 'the chin.Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser faced each other acrossthe two thieves sprawled senseless. They were poised forattack, yet for 'the moment neither moved.Fafhrd said, "Our motives for being here seem identi-cal.""Seem? Surely must be!" 'the Mouser answered curtly,fiercely eyeing this potential new foe, who was taller by ahead than the tall thief."You said?""I said, 'Seem? Surely must be!' ""How civilized of you!" Fafhrd commented in pleasedtones."Civilized?" the Mauser demanded suspiciously, grip-ping his dirk tighter."To care, in the eye of action, exactly what's said,"Fafhrd explained. Without letting the Mouser out of hisvision, he glanced down. His gaze traveled from the pouchof one fallen thief to that of 'the other. Then he looked upat the Mouser with a broad, ingenuous smile."Fifty-fifty?" he suggested.The Mouser hesitated, sheathed his dirk, 'and rappedout, "A deal!" He knelt abruptly, his fingers on the draw-strings of Fissif's pouch. "Loot you Slivikin," he directed.It was natural to suppose that the fat thief 'had beencrying his companion's name at 'the end.Without looking up from where he knelt, Fafhrd re-marked, "That . . . ferret they had with them. Where didit go?""Ferret?" the Mouser answered briefly. "It was a mar-moset!"' "Marmoset," Fafhrd mused. "That's a small 'tropicalmonkey, isn't it? Well, might have been--I've never beensouth--but I got the impression that"The silent, two pronged rush which almost over-whelmed them at that instant really surprised neither ofthem. Each had unconsciously been expecting it.The 'three bravoes racing down upon them in concertedattack, all with swords poised to thrust, had assumed thatthe two highjackers would be armed at most with knivesand as timid in weapons-combat as the general run ofthieves and counter-thieves. So it was they who werethrown into confusion when with the lightning speed ofyouth the Mouser and Fafhrd sprang up, whipped outfearsomely long swords, 'and faced them back to back.The Mouser made a very small ... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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