The First Book of Lankhmar

here."
           The peasant considered these statements and then nodded his head in agreement.
           "We are two weary travelers," continued the Mouser.
           Again the peasant nodded gravely.
           "In return for two silver coins will you give us lodging for the night?"
           The peasant rubbed his chin and then held up three fingers.
           "Very well, you shall have three silver coins," said the Mouser, slipping from his horse. Fafhrd followed suit.
           Only after giving the old man a coin to seal the bargain did the Mouser question casually, "Is there not an old, deserted place near your dwelling called the House of Angarngi?" The peasant nodded.
           "What's it like?"
           The peasant shrugged his shoulders.
           "Don't you know?"
           The peasant shook his head.
           "But haven't you ever seen the place?" The Mouser's voice carried a note of amazement he did not bother to conceal.
           He was answered by another head-shake.
           "But, father, it's only a few minutes' walk from your dwelling, isn't it?"
           The peasant nodded tranquilly, as if the whole business were no matter for surprise.
           A muscular young man, who had come from behind the cottage to take their horses, offered a suggestion.
           "You can see tower from other side the house. I can point her out."
           At this the old man proved he was not completely speechless by saying in a dry, expressionless voice: "Go ahead. Look at her all you want."
           And he stepped into the cottage. Fafhrd and the Mouser caught a glimpse of a child peering around the door, an old woman stirring a pot, and someone hunched in a big chair before a tiny fire.
           The upper part of the tower proved to be barely visible through a break in the trees. The last rays of the sun touched it with deep red. It looked about four or five bowshots distant. And then, even as they watched, the sun dipped under and it became a featureless square of black stone.
           "She's an old place," explained the young man vaguely. "I been all around her. Father, he's just never bothered to look."
           "You've been inside?" questioned the Mouser.
           The young man scratched his head.
           "No. She's just an old place. No good for anything."
           "There'll be a fairly long twilight," said Fafhrd, his wide green eyes drawn to the tower as if by a lodestone. "Long enough for us to have a closer look."
           "I'd show the way," said the young man, "save I got water to fetch."
           "No matter," replied Fafhrd. "When's supper?"
           "When the first stars show."
           They left him holding their horses and walked straight into the woods. Immediately it became much darker, as if twilight were almost over, rather than just begun. The vegetation proved to be somewhat thicker than they had anticipated. There were vines and thorns to be avoided. Irregular, pale patches of sky appeared and disappeared overhead.
           The Mouser let Fafhrd lead the way. His mind was occupied with a queer sort of reverie about the peasants. It tickled his fancy to think how they had stolidly lived their toilsome lives, generation after generation, only a few steps from what might be one of the greatest treasure-troves in the world. It seemed incredible. How could people sleep so near jewels and not dream of them? But probably they never dreamed.
           So the Gray Mouser was sharply aware of few things during the journey through the woods, save that Fafhrd seemed to be taking a long time — which was strange, since the barbarian was an accomplished woodsman.
           Finally a deeper and more solid shadow loomed up through the trees, and in a moment they were standing in the margin of a small, boulder-studded clearing, most of which was occupied by the bulky structure they sought. Abruptly, even before his eyes took in the details of the place, the Mouser's mind was filled with a hundred petty perturbations. Weren't they making a mistake in leaving their horses with those strange peasants? And mightn't those rogues have followed them to the cottage? And wasn't this the Day of the Toad, an unlucky day for entering deserted houses? And shouldn't they have a short spear along, in case they met a leopard? And wasn't that a whippoorwill he heard crying on his