The Second Book of Lankhmar

bottom, Mikkidu came backing out of the tunnel's low entry lugging a full bucket and she stepped out away from him, preparatory to helping switch the hook from the empty bucket to the full one.
           But as he swung it around, he pitched over it into her arms. Digging in her heels, she managed to prop the Mouser's small lieutenant, snarling at him, "What's the matter with you, Mik? Are you drunk?"
           When he answered her groggily, "No, Lady," his eyes weaving, she pushed him against the wall, leaving him to recover his wits and balance, and hurried into the tunnel.
           Here the stink was intense and she held her breath. A few fast scurrying steps brought her to the end, where the light of a leviathan-oil lamp burning blue and dim showed her Skor on his knees slumped forward against the rough face he'd been scraping, his shoulders slack, while beside him Klute lay prone on the rock floor, evidently having passed out as she'd tried to crawl away.
           Cif took her under the armpits and half dragged, half carried her out of the tunnel. Mikkidu was rubbing his forehead. She called, "Skullick!" but he was already climbing down by the pegs. Klute was writhing a little and mewling faintly with her eyes closed. Cif slung her over an arm, stepped into the empty bucket, and signaled Fren to hoist. The pulleys creaked. In passing she told Skullick, "Skor's collapsed at the face. Fumes and foul air, get him out fast."
           At the top she passed Klute to Rill and Fren and then stepped out herself. The girl was muttering, "Can't find my scoop." Rill told her, "Wake up, Klute. Try to breathe deeply," and remarked to Cif, "There was such a stench in the cave toward Darkfire."
           Cif nodded and turned back to watch Skullick drag Skor out of the tunnel. He called, "He'll come out of it, Lady. His pulse is still there." Mikkidu seemed recovered, for he helped Skullick get a rope around the unconscious man's chest so he could be hoisted up the shaft, and then climbed the pegs alongside to steady the dead-weight burden on its way.
           When Fafhrd's lieutenant was stretched out next to the shaft head, Cif took his pulse under the jaw, didn't like its reedy feel, and directed Mikkidu to lift his shoulders and head (by its scanty red hair) while she straddled his lap, clasped him around with both arms, and fed him air from her own lips, alternating with brief tightenings of her hug.
           When Skor's pulse seemed stronger, she directed he be carried to the shelter tent and delegated Rill to keep close watch and continue her nursing as needed. Then she quizzed Mikkidu sharply.
           "You were going into and out of the tunnel, you must have noticed the fumes."
           "I did, Lady," he replied, "and warned Skor. But he made light of them, being so concentrated on speeding the digging."
           "Well, he was right about that, though imprudent," she said with weight. "The digging must continue at the face if we're to have a chance of saving the Captain. Fresh air must be conveyed there in good supply. And speedily."
           "Aye, Lady," Mikkidu agreed dubiously, "but how?"
           "I have had opportunity to think that matter through," she told him. "Mik, last autumn you were with the captains on their great snow-serpent hunt in the Death Lands that lie midway betwixt the volcanoes Darkfire and Hellglow?"
           "Who of us wasn't, Lady?" that one replied. "Aye, and busy for a fussy fortnight afterward flaying and curing the uncut hides."
           "As I recall," she went on, "there were some forty perfect hides got in all."
           "Two score and seven to be precise, Lady. All laid up at the barracks with camphor and cloves against the next trading voyage by one of the captains. They'd bring a fortune in Lankhmar."
           "As I too thought." She nodded. "The dogcart is still here. I've a mind to send you back in it to fetch out those same hides. All of them."
           He stared at her puzzledly.
           "Are you aware," she asked him, "that each of those hides constitutes a wrist-wide, sound leather tube nine or ten cubits long? Three or four yards?"
           "Yes, Lady," he began, his brow still clouded, "but — "
           "Come on, I'll go with you," she said with a merry grin, standing up from where they'd been sitting beside the fire. "For you'll need someone to attend to the hides while