The Second Book of Lankhmar

attend us! Take courage, Mother Grum — " (he called down to the skiff) " — doubt not your mistress' safety." And linking arms with Hilsa and Rill he set out briskly, telling himself that in reverses of fortune such as this, the all-important thing was to behave with vast self-confidence, flame like Rill's torch with it! That was the secret. What matter that he hadn't the faintest idea of what tale he would tell the council? Only maintain the appearance of self-confidence and at the moment when needed, inspiration would come!
           What with the late arrival of the fishing fleet the narrow streets were quite crowded as they footed it along. Perhaps it was market night as well, and maybe the council meeting had something to do with it. At any rate there were a lot of "foreigners" out and Rime Islers too, and for a wonder the latter looked stranger and more drolly grotesque than the former. Here came trudging those four fishers again with their monstrous burdens! A fat boy gaped at them. The Mouser patted his head in passing. Oh, what a show was life!
           Hilsa and Rill, infected by the Mouser's lightheartedness, put on their smiles again. He must be a grand sight, he thought, strolling along with two fine whores as if he owned the town.
           The blue front of the council hall appeared, its door framed by some gone galleon's massive stern and flanked by two glum louts with quarterstaves. The Mouser felt Hilsa and Rill hesitate, but crying in a loud voice, "All honor to the council!" he swept them inside with him, Ourph and Mikkidu ducking in after.
           The room inside was larger and somewhat more lofty than the one at the Salt Herring, but was gray-timbered like it, built of wrecks. And it had no fireplace, but was inadequately warmed by two smoking braziers and lit by torches that burned blue and sad (perhaps there were bronze nails in them), not merrily golden-yellow like Rill's. The main article of furniture was a long heavy table, at one end of which Clif and Afreyt sat, looking their haughtiest. Drawn away from them toward the other end were seated ten large sober Isle-men of middle years, Groniger in their midst, with such doleful, gloomily indignant, outraged looks on their faces that the Mouser burst out laughing. Other Islers crowded the walls, some women among them. All turned on the newcomers' faces of mingled puzzlement and disapproval.
           Groniger reared up and thundered at him, "You dare to laugh at the gathered authority of Rime Isle? You, who come bursting in accompanied by women of the streets and your own trespassing crewmen?"
           The Mouser managed to control his laughter and listen with the most open, honest expression imaginable, injured innocence incarnate.
           Groniger went on, shaking his finger at the other, "Well, there he stands, councilors. a chief receiver of the misappropriated gold, perchance even of the gold cube of honest dealing. The man who came to us out of the south with tales of magic storms and day turned night and vanished hostile vessels and a purported Mingol invasion — he who has, as you perceive, Mingols amongst his crew — the man who paid for his dockage in Rime Isle gold!"
           Cif stood up at that, her eyes blazing, and said, "Let him speak, at least, and answer this outrageous charge, since you won't take my word."
           A councilman rose beside Groniger. "Why should we listen to a stranger's lies?"
           Groniger said, "I thank you, Dwone."
           Afreyt got to her feet. "No, let him speak. Will you hear nothing but your own voices?"
           Another councilman got up.
           Groniger said, "Yes. Zwaakin?"
           That one said, "No harm to hear what he has to say. He may convict himself out of his own mouth." Cif glared at Zwaaken and said loudly, "Tell them, Mouser!"
           At that moment the Mouser, glancing at Rill's torch (which seemed to wink at him) felt a godlike power invading and possessing him to the tips of his fingers and toes — nay, to the end of his every hair. Without warning — in fact, without knowing he was going to do it at all he ran forward across the room and sprang atop the table where its sides were clear toward Cif's end.
           He looked around compellingly at all (a sea of cold and hostile faces, mostly), gave them a searching stare, and then — well, as the godlike force possessed every part of him