The First Book of Lankhmar

Fafhrd," the Mouser interjected, coming to a sudden stop and drawing tight the sack's mouth by its strings. "And softly you too, Lady Vlana, and my dear princess. Tonight I intend but a scouting expedition. No risks run, only the information gained needful for planning our murderous strike tomorrow or the day after. So no head-choppings whatsoever tonight, Fafhrd, you hear me? Whatever mayhap, hist's the word. And don your hooded robe."
           Fafhrd shrugged, nodded, and obeyed.
           Ivrian seemed somewhat relieved. Vlana too, though she said, "Just the same you're both drunk."
           "All to the good!" the Mouser assured her with a mad smile. "Drink may slow a man's sword-arm and soften his blows a bit, but it sets his wits ablaze and fires his imagination, and those are the qualities we'll need tonight. Besides," he hurried on, cutting off some doubt Ivrian was about to voice, "drunken men are supremely cautious! Have you ever seen a staggering sot pull himself together at sight of the guard and walk circumspectly and softly past?"
           "Yes," Vlana said, "and fall flat on his face just as he comes abreast 'em."
           "Pish!" the Mouser retorted and, throwing back his head, grandly walked toward her along an imaginary straight line. Instantly he tripped over his own foot, plunged forward, suddenly without touching floor did an incredible forward flip, heels over head, and landed erect and quite softly — toes, ankles, and knees bending just at the right moment to soak up impact — directly in front of the girls. The floor barely complained.
           "You see?" he said, straightening up and unexpectedly reeling backward. He tripped over the pillow on which lay his cloak and sword, but by a wrenching twist and a lurch stayed upright and began rapidly to accouter himself.
           Under cover of this action Fafhrd made quietly yet swiftly to fill once more his and the Mouser's mugs, but Vlana noted it and gave him such a glare that he set down mugs and uncorked jug so swiftly his robe swirled, then stepped back from the drinks table with a shrug of resignation and toward Vlana a grimacing nod.
           The Mouser shouldered his sack and drew open the door. With a casual wave at the girls, but no word spoken, Fafhrd stepped out on the tiny porch. The night-smog had grown so thick he was almost lost to view. The Mouser waved four fingers at Ivrian, softly called, "Bye-bye, Misling," then followed Fafhrd.
           "Good fortune go with you," Vlana called heartily.
           "Oh be careful, Mouse," Ivrian gasped.
           The Mouser, his figure slight against the loom of Fafhrd's, silently drew shut the door.
           Their arms automatically gone around each other, the girls waited for the inevitable creaking and groaning of the stairs. It delayed and delayed. The night-smog that had entered the room dissipated and still the silence was unbroken. "What can they be doing out there?" Ivrian whispered. "Plotting their course?"
           Vlana, scowling, impatiently shook her head, then disentangled herself, tiptoed to the door, opened it, descended softly a few steps, which creaked most dolefully, then returned, shutting the door behind her.
           "They're gone," she said in wonder, her eyes wide, her hands spread a little to either side, palms up.
           "I'm frightened!" Ivrian breathed and sped across the room to embrace the taller girl.
           Vlana hugged her tight, then disengaged an arm to shoot the door's three heavy bolts.
           In Bones Alley the Mouser returned to his pouch the knotted line by which they'd descended from the lamp-hook. He suggested, "How about stopping at the Silver Eel?"
           "You mean and just tell the girls we've been to Thieves' House?" Fafhrd asked, not too indignantly.
           "Oh, no," the Mouser protested. "But you missed your stirrup cup upstairs and so did I."
           At the word "stirrup" he looked down at his ratskin boots and then crouching began a little gallop in one place, his boot-soles clopping softly on the cobbles. He flapped imaginary reins — "Giddap!" — and quickened his gallop, but leaning sharply back pulled to a stop — "Whoa!" — when with a crafty smile Fafhrd drew from his robe two full jugs.
           "Palmed 'em, as 'twere, when I set down the mugs. Vlana sees a lot, but not all."
           "You're a prudent, far-sighted