Swords and Ice Magic - By Fritz Leiber Page 0,52
old Odin out on the moor in much the same way (though using girls to comfort and appease him instead of full-grown women, he being an older god), eliciting prophecies of import.
"Loki it was who first warned us that the Mingols were on the move, mustering horse-ships against Rime Isle, mounting under Khahkht's urgings toward a grand climacteric of madness and rapine. Afreyt put independent question to Odin and he confirmed it ― they were together in the tale at every point.
“When asked what we must do, they both advised ― again independently ― that we seek out two certain heroes in Lankhmar and have them bring their bands to the Isle's defence. They were most circumstantial, giving your names and haunts, saying you were their men, whether or not you knew it in this life, and they did not change their stories under repeated questioning. Tell me, Gray Mouser, have you not known the god Loki before? Speak true.”
“Upon my word, I haven't, Lady Cif,” he averred, “and am no more able than you to explain the mystery of our resemblance. Though there is a certain weird familiarity about the name, and Odin's too, as if I'd heard them in dreams or nightmares. But however I rack my brains, it comes no clearer.”
“Well,” she resumed after a pause, “the two gods kept up their urgings that we seek you out and so half a year ago Afreyt and I took ship for Lankhmar on Hlal ― with what results you know.”
“Tell me, Lady Cif,” the Mouser intejected, rousing himself from his fire-peerings, “how did you and tall Afreyt get back to Rime Isle after Khahkht's wizardrous blizzard snatched you out of the Silver Eel?”
“It transpired as swiftly as our journey there was long,” she said. “One moment we were in his cold clutch, battered and blinded by wind-driven ice, our ears assaulted by a booming laughter. The next we had been taken in charge by two feminine flying creatures who whirled us at dizzying speed through darkness to a warm cave where they left us breathless. They said they were a mountain king's two daughters.”
“Hirriwi and Keyaira, I'll be bound!” the Mouser exclaimed. “They must be on our side.”
“Who are those?” Cif inquired.
“Mountain princesses Fafhrd and I have known in our day. Invisibles like our revered fire-dweller here.” He nodded toward the flames. “Their father rules in lofty Stardock.”
“I've heard of that peak and dread Oomforafor, its king, whom some say is with his son Faroomfar an ally of Khahkht. Daughters against father and brother ― that would be natural. Well, Afreyt and I after we'd recovered our breath made our way to the cavern's mouth ― and found ourselves looking down on Rime Isle and Salthaven from a point midway up Darkfire. With some little difficulty we made our way home across rock and glacier.”
“The volcano,” the Mouser mused. “Again Loki's link with fire.” His attention had been drawn back to the hypnotic flames.
Cif nodded. “Thereafter Loki and Odin kept us informed of the Mingols' progress toward Rime Isle ― and your own. Then four days ago Loki began a running account of your encounters with Khahkht's frost monstreme. He made it most vivid ― sometimes you'd have sworn he was piloting one of the ships himself. I managed to reserve the Flame Den the succeeding nights (and have it now for the next three days and nights also), so we were able to follow the details of the long flight or long pursuit ― which, truth to tell, became a bit monotonous.”
“You should have been there,” the Mouser murmured.
“Loki made me feel I was.”
“Incidentally,” the Mouser said casually, “I'd think you'd have rented the Flame Den every night once you'd got your god here.”
“I'm not made of gold,” she informed him without rancor. “Besides, Loki likes variety. The brawls that others hold here amuse him ― were what attracted him in the first place. Furthermore, it would have made the council even more suspicious of my activities.”
The Mouser nodded. “I thought I recognized a crony of Groniger's playing chess out there.”
“Hush,” she counseled him. “I must now consult the god.” Her voice had grown a little singsong in the later stages of her narrative and it became more so as, without transition, she invoked, “And now, O Loki god, tell us about our enemies across the seas and in the realms of ice. Tell us of cruel, cold Khahkht, of Edumir of the Widdershin Mingols and Gonov