Fritz Leiber FGM 2 Swords Against Death

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very solid and still, as though all its potentialities for life were vanished
for a time, or forever.
When they finally stopped running, Fafhrd looked stupidly down at his left
hand and said, "Mouser, I've cut my thumb. It's bleeding."
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"So's the green hill," the Mouser commented, looking back. "And bleeding to
death, I'm happy to say."
--------
*VIII: Claws From the Night*
Fear hovered in the moonlight over Lankhmar. Fear flowed like mist through the
twisting thoroughfares and mazy alleyways, trickling even into that most
intricately curved and crevicelike street where a sootily flickering lantern
marked the doorway to the tavern of the Silver Eel.
It was a subtle fear, not the sort inspired by a besieging army, or warring
nobles, or revolting slaves, or a mad Overlord bent on wanton slaughter, or an
enemy fleet sailing from the Inner Sea into the estuary of the Hlal. But it
was none the less potent. It clutched the soft throats of the chattering women
now entering the low doorway of the Silver Eel, making their laughter more
sudden and shrill. It touched the women's escorts too, making them speak
louder and rattle their swords more than necessary.
This was a party of young aristocrats seeking excitement in a place known to
be disreputable and somewhat dangerous. Their garments were rich and
fantastic, after the fashion of the decadent Lankhmar nobility. But there was
one thing that seemed almost too crazily faddish even in exotic Lankhmar. The
head of each woman was enclosed in a small, delicately-wrought silver bird
cage.
Again the door opened, this time to emit two men who swiftly walked away. The
one was tall and hulking, and seemed to be concealing some object under his
great cloak. The other was small and lithe, clad from crown to toe in a soft
gray that merged with the diffused moonlight. He was carrying a fishpole over
his shoulder.
"I wonder what Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser are up to now," murmured a
hanger-on, peering curiously over his shoulder. The landlord shrugged.
"No good, I'll warrant," pressed the hanger-on. "I saw the thing under
Fafhrd's cloak move, as if alive. Today, in Lankhmar, that is most suspicious.
You see what I mean? And then the fishpole."
"Peace," said the landlord. "They are two honest rogues, even though much in
need of money, if what they owe me for wine is any indication. Say nothing
against them."
But he looked a trifle puzzled and perturbed as he went inside again,
impatiently pushing the hanger-on ahead of him.
It was three months since the fear had come to Lankhmar, and at the beginning
it had been a very different sort of thing -- hardly fear at all.
Just an overly numerous series of thefts of cheap trinkets and costly gems,
with women the chief sufferers. Bright and shining objects, no matter what
their nature, were given the preference.
Gossip had it that a band of exceptionally light-fingered and haphazard
pilferers was making a specialty of the tiring rooms of great ladies, though
the whipping of maids and body-slaves failed to uncover any of the expected
confederates. Then someone advanced the theory that it was the work of cunning
children too young to judge well the value of objects.
But gradually the character of the thefts began to change. Fewer worthless
baubles were taken. More and more often, valuable gems were plucked from a
jumble of glass and gilt, giving the odd impression that the marauders were
only by practice developing a sense of discrimination.
At about this time people began to suspect that the ancient and almost
reputable Thieves' Guild of Lankhmar had invented a new stratagem, and there
was talk of torturing a few suspected leaders or waiting for a west wind and
burning the Street of the Silk Merchants.
But since the Thieves' Guild was a conservative and hide-bound organization
wedded to traditional methods of thievery, suspicion shifted somewhat when it
became increasingly evident that a mentality of incredible daring and
ingenuity was at work.
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Valuables disappeared in broad daylight, even from chambers locked and
carefully guarded, or from sheer walled roof-gardens. A lady secure in her
home chanced to lay a bracelet on an inaccessible windowledge; it vanished
while she chatted with a friend. A lord's daughter, walking in a private
garden, felt someone reach down from a thickly-leafed tree and snatch a
diamond pin from her hair; the tree was immediately climbed by nimble
servitors, but nothing was found.
Then a hysterical maid ran to her mistress with the information that she had
just seen a large bird, black in color, making off through a window with an
emerald ring clutched securely in its talons.
This story at first met with angry disbelief. It was concluded that the girl
herself must have stolen the ring. She was whipped almost to death amid
general approval.
The next day a large black bird swooped down on the niece of the
Overlord and ripped a jewel from her ear.
Much supporting evidence was immediately forthcoming. People told of seeing
birds of unusual appearance at odd times and places. It was recalled that in
each of the thefts an aerial route had been left open. The victims began to
remember things that had seemed inconsequential at the time -- the beat of
wings, the rustle of feathers, bird tracks and droppings, hovering shadows and
the like.
All Lankhmar buzzed with amazed speculation. It was believed, however, that
the thefts would cease, now that the authors were known and suitable
precautions taken. No special significance was attached to the injured ear of
the Overlord's niece. Both these judgments proved wrong.
Two days later, the notorious courtesan Lessnya was beset by a large black
bird while crossing a wide square. Forewarned, Lessnya struck at the bird with
a gilt wand she was carrying, shouting to scare it off.
To the horror of the onlookers, the bird eluded the wild blows, set its talons
in her white shoulder, and pecked her right eye viciously. Thereupon it gave a
shuddering squawk, flapped its wings, and took off amid a flurry of black
feathers, gripping a jade brooch in its claws.
Within the next three days, five more women were robbed in the same way; three
of these were mutilated.
Lankhmar was frightened. Such unwholesomely purposeful behavior on the part of
birds roused all sorts of superstitious fear. Bowmen armed with triple-pronged
fowling-arrows were stationed on the roofs. Timid women stayed indoors, or
wore cloaks to hide their jewels.
Shutters were kept closed at night despite the summer heat.
Considerable numbers of innocent pigeons and gulls were shot or poisoned.
Cocky young nobles summoned their falconers and went hawking after the
marauders.
But they had difficulty in locating any; and on the few occasions they did,
their falcons found themselves opposed by adversaries who flew swiftly and
fought back successfully. More than one mews mourned the death of a favorite
fighting bird. All efforts to trace the winged thieves failed.
These activities did have one tangible result: most of the attacks and thefts
thereafter occurred during the hours of darkness. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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