The Second Book of Lankhmar

wove it!'"
           "But she only did it in order to — " Cif began furiously.
           Afreyt said simultaneously, "Captain Mouser, with all respect, you are impossible!"
           Cif rebegan, "She only employed the tricksy guile you would yourself in like situation."
           "That's pure truth," Fafhrd confirmed. "Guest Fingers, you are the Princess of Plotters. I never heard a braver tale." Then, sotto voce to Afreyt, "I declare, Mouser gets more stubborn-cranky every day. He can't have shaken the old-age curse. That would explain it."
           Mara piped up, "You wouldn't really have enjoyed beating us, would you, Fingers?"
            Klute: I bet she would. With a dogwhip! The pursuit hound's.
           Gale: No, she wouldn't, she'd think of something worse, like putting boreworms up our noses.
           May: Or in our ears!
           Klute: Or maybe in our salad.
           Gale: Or up our —
           Afreyt : Children! That's quite enough. Go and fetch out our dinners, all of you. Quickly. Fingers, please help them.
           They trooped off excitedly, beginning to whisper as they reached the kitchen.
         7
           Afreyt said, "And while we're eating our dinners, Mouser, I hope you won't — "
           But he interrupted, "Oh, I know well enough when you're all against me. I'll be wordless willingly. Let me tell you, it's hard work being the voice of prudence and good sense when you're all being noble and generous and riding your liberal hobby horses recklessly."
           Cif smiled with a shrug and one eye toward heaven. "Just the same, I'd feel better if you'd go a little further than just being quiet and — "
           "Why not?" he demanded hugely with the ghost of a growl. "Break one, break all. Princess Fingers," he called, "would your majesty please approach me?"
           The girl put down the covered tray of hotcakes she'd just carried in and turned toward him with eyes lowered respectfully. "Yes, sir?"
           He said, "My friends here tell me I should take your right hand." She extended hers. He took it, saying, "Princess, I admire your courage and cunning, in which latter quality they tell me you resemble myself. Good guesting and all that!" and he squeezed. She hid a wince as she smiled up at him. He held on. "But hear this, royalty: no matter how clever you are, you're not as clever as I am. And if, through you, any of these girls, or any of my other friends should come to harm, remember you will have me to answer to."
           She replied, "That's a proviso I'll accept and abide by most happily, sir," and with a little bow she hurried back to the kitchen.
           "Bring out four more settings," Afreyt called after her. "I see Groniger coming in company from the headland. Who are those walk beside him, Fafhrd?"
           "Skullick and Pshawri," he told her, scanning the group moving down toward them out of the last sunset gleam, "come to make report to us of the day's accomplishments. And old Ourph — these days the ancient Mingol often suns his old bones up there where he can scan both the harbor to the south and the sleepy Maelstrom to the east beyond."
           The last sun patch upon the headland darkened and the misty moon at once seemed to grow brighter above the four oncomers.
           "They hurry on apace," Cif commented. "Old Ourph as well, who commonly lags behind."
           Afreyt assured herself the girl's task was done and extra places set. "Then fall to, all of you, with the Goddess's blessing. Else we'll never start feeding."
           They had sampled the pickled and spiced and nibbled garden-fresh radishes and were chomping roast lamb and sweet mint conserves by the time the four striders drew nigh. Simultaneously the cloud ceiling swiftly went lemon pale with reflected light from the setting or set sun, like a soft sustained trumpet peal of welcome. Their faces showed sudden clear in the afterglow, as if they'd all unmasked.
           Groniger said laconically, " Weasel left harbor. Dappled sky to the north presages a wind to speed her on her way. And there's news of a rather greater interest," he added, glancing down toward bent and wrinkle-visaged Ourph.
           When that one didn't speak at once, or anyone immediately ask, "What is it?" Pshawri launched out with, "Before Weasel got off, Captain Mouser, I traded deer pelts and a sable