Swords and Ice Magic - By Fritz Leiber Page 0,55
skiff came sculling quietly along very close to the dock, propelled by Mother Grum sitting in the stern and wagging a single oar from side to side like a fish's tail. When Cif stood up in the boat's midst her head was level with the dock. She caught hold of the hand the Mouser reached down and came up in two long steps.
“Few words,” she said. “Mother Grum will scull you to Sprite,” and she passed the Mouser a purse.
“Silver only,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose as he made to glance into it.
He handed it to Pshawri. “Two pieces to each man at nightfall, if I'm not returned,” he directed. “Keep them hard at work. 'Twere well Flotsam were seaworthy by noon tomorrow at latest. Go.”
Pshawri saluted and made off.
The Mouser turned to the others. “Down into the skiff with you.”
They obeyed, Ourph impassive-faced, Mikkidu with an apprehensive sidewise look at their grim boatwoman. Cif touched the Mouser's arm. He turned back.
She looked him evenly in the eye. “The Maelstrom is dangerous,” she said. “Here's what perhaps can quell it, if it should trap you. If needs must, hurl it into the pool's exact midst. Guard it well and keep it secret.”
Surprised at the weight of the small cubical object she pressed into his hand, he glanced down at it surreptitiously. “Gold?” he breathed, a little wonderingly. It was in the form of a skeleton cube, twelve short thick gold-gleaming edges conjoined squarely.
“Yes,” she replied flatly. “Lives are more valuable.”
“And there's some superstition ―?”
“Yes,” she cut him short.
He nodded, pouched it carefully, and without other word descended lightly into the skiff. Mother Grum worked her oar back and forth, sending them toward the one small fishing craft remaining in the harbor.
Cif watched after them as their skiff emerged into full sunlight. After a while she felt the same sunlight on her head and knew it was striking golden highlights from her dark hair. The Mouser never looked around. She did not really want him to. The skiff reached Sprite and the three men climbed nimbly aboard.
She could have sworn there'd been no one near, but next she heard the sound of a throat being cleared behind her. She waited a few moments, then turned around.
“Master Groniger,” she greeted.
“Mistress Cif,” he responded in equally mild tones. He did not look like a man who had been sneaking about.
“You send the strangers on a mission?” he remarked after a bit.
She shook her head slowly. “I rent them a ship, the lady Afreyt's and mine. Perhaps they go fishing.” She shrugged. “Like any Isler, I turn a dollar when I can and fishing's not the only road to profit. Not captaining your craft today, master?”
He shook his head in turn. “A harbor chief first has the responsibilities of his office, mistress. The other stranger's not been seen yet today. Nor his men either....”
“So?” she asked when he'd paused a while.
“...though there's a great racket of work below deck in his sailing galley.”
She nodded and turned to watch Sprite making for the harbor mouth under sail and the skiff sculling off with its lone shaggy-haired, squat figure.
“A meeting of the council has been called for tonight,” Groniger said as if in afterthought. She nodded without turning around. He added in explanation, casually. “An audit has been asked for, Lady Treasurer, of all gold coin and Rimic treasures in your keeping ― the golden arrow of truth, the gold circles of unity, the gold cube of square-dealing....” She nodded again, then lifted her hand to her mouth. He heard the sigh of a yawn. The sun was bright on her hair.
* * * *
By midafternoon Fafhrd's band was high in the Deathlands, here a boulder-studded expanse of barren, dark rock between low glacial walls a bowshot off to the left, closer than that on the right ― a sort of broad pass. The westering sun beat down hotly, but the breeze was chill. The blue sky seemed close.
First went the youngest of his berserks, unarmed, as point. (An unarmed man really scans for the foe and does not engage them.) Twoscore yards behind him went Mannimark as coverpoint and behind him the main party led by Fafhrd with Mara beside him, Skor still bringing up the rear.
A large white hare broke cover ahead and raced away past them the way they had come, taking fantastic bounds, seemingly terrified. Fafhrd waved in the men ahead and arranged two-thirds of his force in an