The Second Book of Lankhmar

course."
           For a long moment Afreyt looked into the girl's unblinking eyes. Then she drew back her hood, bent down her head, and helped lift her hair through. Using both hands, May drew the knot together at the base of Afreyt's throat. "There," she said, "that's the way you wear it, snug but not tight."
           While this was happening, Groniger had come up, carrying thrce bowls and a small covered pail of chowder. When the nooses had been explained to him, "A capital conceit!" he said with a great grin, his eyebrows lifting. "That'll show the Mingols something, let them know what they're in for. It's a grand chant the Little Captain gave us, isn't it?" Afr'eyt nodded, looking sideways a moment at Groniger. "Yes," she said, "his wonderful words."
           Groniger glanced back at her in similar fashion. "Yes, his wonderful words."
           May said, "I wish I'd heard him
           Groniger handed them the bowls and swiftly poured the thick, steaming soup.
           May said, "I'll take Gale hers."
           Groniger said gruffly to Afreyt, "Sup it while it's hot. Then get some rest. We go on at moonrise, agreed?" and when Afreyt nodded. strode off rather bumptiously, cheerily rumble-humming the chant to which they'd marched all day, the Mouser's — or Loki's, rather.
           Afreyt narrowed her brows. Normally Groniger was such a sober man, dull-spirited she'd once thought, but now he was almost like a buffoon. Was "monstrously comical" too strong an expression? She shook her head slowly. All the Rime-men were getting like that, loutish and grotesque and somehow bigger. Perhaps it was her weariness made her see things askew and magnified, she told herself.
           May came bsck and they got out their spoons and fell to. "Gale wanted to eat hers inside," the girl volunteered after a bit. "I think she and Odin are cooking up something." She shrugged and went back to her spooning. After another while: "I'm going to make nooses for Mara and Captain Fafhrd." Finally she scraped her bowl, set it aside, and said, "Cousin Afreyt, do you think Groniger's a troll?"
           "What's that?" Afreyt asked.
           "A word Odin uses. He says Groniger's a troll." Gale came excitedly out of the litter with her empty bowl, but remembering to draw the curtains behind her.
           "Odin and I have invented a marching song for us!" she announced, stacking her bowl in May's. "He says the other god's song is all right, but he should have one of his own. Listen. I'll chant it for you. It's shorter and faster than the other." She screwed up her face. "It's like a drum," she explained earnestly. Then, stamping with a foot: "March, march, over the Deathlands. Go, go, over the Doomlands. Doom! — kill the Mingols. Doom! — die the heroes. Doom! Doom! Glorious doom!" Her voice had grown quite loud by the time she was done.
           "Glorious doom?" Afreyt replied.
           "Yes. Come on, May, chant it with me."
           "I don't know that I want to."
           "Oh, come on. I'm wearing your noose, aren't I? Odin says we should all chant it."
           As the two girls repeated the chant in their shrill voices with mounting enthusiasm, Groniger and another Rime-man came up.
           "That's good," he said, collecting the bowls. "Glorious doom is good."
           "I like that one." the other man agreed. "Doom! — kill the Mingols!" he repeated appreciatively.
           They went off chanting it in low voices.
           The night darkened. The wind blew. The girls grew quiet.
           May said. "lt's cold. The god'll be getting chilly. Gale, we'd better go inside. Will you be all right, cousin Afreyt?"
           "I'll be all right."
           A while after the curtains closed behind them, May stuck her head out.
           "The god invites you to come inside with us," she called to Afreyt.
           Afreyt caught her breath. Then she said as evenly as she could, "Thank the god, but tell him I will remain here ... on guard."
           "Very well," May said and the curtains closed again.
           Afreyt clenched her hands under her cloak. She hadn't admitted to anyone, even Cif, that for some time now Odin had been fading. She could hardly see even a wispy outline any more. She could still hear his voice. but it had begun to grow faint, lost in wind-moaning. The god had been very real at first on that spring