The Second Book of Lankhmar

for him to travel in, and we carefully marked the flame and followed as it leaned, and it has led us to you!"
           "And look," Hilsa broke in as Mother Grum came up,"now the flame would have us go to the mountain. It points toward her!" And she waved with her other hand north toward the icefall and the silent black scoriac peak beyond with its smoke-plume blowing west.
           Cif and the Mouser dutifully looked at the torch's ghostly flame, narrowing their eyes. After a bit, "The flame does lean over," the Mouser said, "but I think that's just because it's burning unevenly. Something in the grain of the wood or its oils and resins — "
           No, indubitably it motions us toward Darkfire," Cif cried excitedly. "Lead on, Rill," and the women all turned sharply north. making for the glacier.
           "But ladies, we have hardly time for a trip upmountain," the Mouser called after protestingly, "what with preparations to be made for the Isle's defense and tomorrow's sailing against the Mingols."
           "The god has commanded," Cif told him overshoulder. "He knows best."
           Mother Grum said in her growly voice, "I doubt not he intends us to make a closer journey than mountaintop. Roundabout is nearer than straight, I ween."
           And with that mystifying remark the women went on, and the Mouser shrugged and perforce followed after, thinking what fools these women were to be scurrying afer a burning bush or branch as if it were the very god, even if the flame did bend most puzzlingly. (And he had heard fire speak, night before last.) Well, at any rate, he wasn't really needed for today's repairs on Flotsam ; Pshawri could boss the crew as well as he, or at least well enough. Best keep an eye on Cif while this odd fit was on her and see she — or her three strangely sorted god-servants — came to no harm.
           Such a sweet, strong, sensible, ravishing woman, Cif, when not godstruck. Lord, what troublesome, demanding and captious employers gods were, never a-quiet. (It was safe to think such thoughts, he told himself, gods couldn't read your thoughts — everyone had their privacy — though they could overhear your slightest word spoken in undertone — and doubtless make deductions from your starts and grimaces.)
           Up from the depths of his skull came the wearisome compulsive chant, "Mingols to their deaths must go," and he was almost gaateful to the malicious little jingle for occupying his mind troubled by the vagaries of gods and women.
           The air grew chilly and soon they were at the icefall and in front of it a dead scrubby tree and a mounded upthrust of dark purplish rock, almost black, and in its midst a still blacker opening wide and tall as a door.
           Cif said, "This was not here last year," and Mother Grum growled, "The glacier, receding, has uncovered it," and Rill cried, "The flame leans toward the cave!" and Cif said, "Go we down," and Hilsa quavered, "It's dark," and Mother Grum rumbled, "Have no fear. Dark is sometimes best light, and down best way go up."
           The Mouser wasted no time on words, but broke three branches from the dead tree (Loki-torch might not last forever) and shouldering them, followed swiftly after the women into the rock.

             * * * *

           Fafhrd doggedly climbed the last, seemingly endless slope of icy stone below Mount Hellglow's snowline. Orange light from the sun near setting beat on his back without warmth, and bathed the mountainside and the dark peak above with its wispy smoke blowing east. The rock was tough as diamond with frequent hand-holds — made for climbing — but he was weary and beginning to condemn himself for having abandoned his men in peril (it amounted to that) to come on a wild romantical goose-chase.
           Wind blew from the west, crosswise to his climb.
           This was what came of taking a girl on a dangerous expedition and listening to women — or one woman, rather. Afreyt had been so sure of herself, so queenly-commanding — that he'd gone along with her against his better judgment. Why, he was chasing after Mara now mostly for fear of what Afreyt would think of him if aught befell the girl. Oh, he knew all right how he'd justified himself this morning in giving himself this job rather than sending a couple of his men. He'd jumped to the conclusion it was Prince Faroomfar had kidnapped Mara and he'd had the