The First Book of Lankhmar

and there was a bandage around his thigh and another around the palm of his right hand. The smaller man, the one mounted on a gray mare, seemed to have suffered an equal number of injuries.
           "Do you know where we're headed?" said the latter, breaking a long silence. "We're headed for a city. And in that city are endless houses of stone, stone towers without numbers, streets paved with stone, domes, archways, stairs. Tcha, if I feel then as I feel now, I'll never go within a bowshot of Lankhmar's walls."
           His large companion smiled.
           "What now, little man? Don't tell me you're afraid of earthquakes?"

         III: Thieves' House
           "What's the use of knowing the name of a skull? One would never have occasion to talk to it," said the fat thief loudly. "What interests me is that it has rubies for eyes."
           "Yet it is written here that its name is Ohmphal," replied the black-bearded thief in the quieter tones of authority.
           "Let me see," said the bold, red-haired wench, leaning over his shoulder. She needed to be bold; all women were immemorially forbidden to enter Thieves' House. Together the three of them read the tiny hieroglyphs.

    ITEM:   the skull Ohmphal, of the Master Thief Ohmphal, with great ruby eyes, and one pair of jeweled hands .
    HISTORY OF ITEM:   the skull Ohmphal was stolen from the Thieves' Guild by the priests of Votishal and placed by them in the crypt of their accursed temple.
    INSTRUCTIONS: the skull Ohmphal is to be recovered at the earliest opportunity, that it may be given proper veneration in the Thieves' Sepulcher.
    DIFFICULTIES: the lock of the door leading to the crypt is reputed to be beyond the cunning of any thief to pick.
    WARNINGS: within the crypt is rumored to be a guardian beast of terrible ferocity.

           "Those crabbed letters are devilish hard to read," said the red-haired wench, frowning.
           "And no wonder, for they were written centuries ago," said the black-bearded thief.
           The fat thief said, "I never heard tell of a Thieves' Sepulcher, save the junkyard, the incinerator, and the Inner Sea."
           "Times and customs change," the black-bearded thief philosophized. "Periods of reverence alternate with periods of realism."
           "Why is it called the skull Ohmphal?" the fat thief wondered. "Why not the skull of Ohmphal?"
           The black-bearded thief shrugged.
           "Where did you find this parchment?" the red-haired wench asked him.
           "Beneath the false bottom of a moldering chest in our storerooms," he replied.
           "By the gods who are not," chuckled the fat thief, still poring over the parchment, "the Thieves' Guild must have been superstitious in those ancient days. To think of wasting jewels on a mere skull. If we ever get hold of Master Ohmphal, we'll venerate him — by changing his ruby eyes into good hard money."
           "Aye!" said the black-bearded thief, "And it was just that matter I wanted to talk to you about, Fissif — the getting hold of Ohmphal."
           "Oh, but there are — difficulties, as you, Krovas our master, must surely know," said the fat thief, quickly singing another tune. "Even today, after the passage of centuries, men still shudder when they speak of the crypt of Votishal, with its lock and its beast. There is no one in the Thieves' Guild who can — "
           "No one in the Thieves' Guild, that's true!" interrupted the black-bearded thief sharply. "But" — and here his voice began to go low — "there are those outside the Thieves' Guild who can. Have you heard that there is recently returned here to Lankhmar a certain rogue and picklock known as the Gray Mouser? And with him a huge barbarian who goes by the name of Fafhrd, but is sometimes called the Beast-Slayer? We have a score as you well know, to settle with both of them. They slew our sorcerer, Hristomilo. That pair commonly hunts alone — yet if you were to approach them with this tempting suggestion..."
           "But, Master," interposed the fat thief, "in that case, they would demand at least two-thirds of the profits."
           "Exactly!" said the black-bearded thief, with a sudden flash of cold humor. The red-haired wench caught his meaning, and laughed aloud. "Exactly! And that is just the reason why I have chosen you, Fissif, the smoothest of double-crossers, to undertake this