One of them was a huge, brawny, full-bearded barbarian from the northlands of Nehwon. His name was Fafhrd, his weapon a broadsword. The other was a small, nimble man dressed all in gray. Men called him the Gray Mouser, and he carried both rapier and dirk. They were known throughout the city of Lankhmar as brawlers, cutpurses, and rogues. But they were the most dangerous fighting-men in Lankhmar, so when the Overlord Glipkerio Kistomerces needed guards for an all-important shipment of gifts to a neighbouring monarch, he chose them for the task. Thus began one of the most fabolous sword-and-sorcery adventures in the famous Fafhrd-Gray Mouser saga—a full-length novel which Ace Books is proud to bring to you as the first in this action-packed new series.
"I see we're expected," the small man said, continuing to stroll toward the large open gate in the long, high, ancient wall. As if by chance, his hand brushed the hilt of his long, slim rapier.
"At over a bowshot distance how can you — " the big man began. "I get it. Bashabeck's orange headcloth. Stands out like a whore in church. And where Bashabeck is, his bullies are. You should have kept your dues to the Thieves Guild paid up."
"It's not so much the dues," the small man said. "It slipped my mind to split with them after the last job, when I lifted those eight diamonds from the Spider God's temple."
The big man sucked his tongue in disapproval. "I sometimes wonder why I associate with a faithless rogue like you."
The small man shrugged. "I was in a hurry. The Spider God was after me."
"Yes, I seem to recall he sucked the blood of your lookout man. You've got the diamonds to make the payoff now, of course?"
"My purse is as bulging as yours," the small man asserted. "Which is exactly as much as a drunk's wineskin the morning after. Unless you're holding out on me, which I've long suspected. Incidentally, isn't that grossly fat man — the one between the two big-shouldered bravos — the keeper of the Silver Eel tavern?"
The big man squinted, nodded, then rocked his head disgustedly. "To make such a to-do over a brandy tab."
"Especially when it couldn't have been much more than a yard long," the small man agreed. "Of course there were those two full casks of brandy you smashed and set afire the last night you were brawling at the Eel."
"When the odds are ten to one against you in a tavern fight, you have to win by whatever methods come easiest to hand," the big man protested. "Which I'll grant you are apt at times to be a bit bizarre."
He squinted ahead again at the small crowd ranged around the square inside the open gate. After a while he said, "I also make out Rivis Rightby the swordsmith… and just about all the other creditors any two men could have in Lankhmar. And each with his hired thug or three." He casually loosened in its scabbard his somewhat huge weapon, shaped like a rapier, but heavy almost as a broadsword. "Didn't you settle _any_ of our bills before we left Lankhmar the last time? I was dead broke, of course, but you must have had money from all those earlier jobs for the Thieves Guild."
"I paid Nattick Nimblefingers in full for mending my cloak and for a new gray silk jerkin," the small man answered at once. He frowned. "There must have been others I paid — oh, I'm sure there were, but I can't recall them at the moment. By the by, isn't that tall rangy wench — half behind the dainty man in black — one you were in trouble with? Her red hair stands out like a… like a bit of Hell. And those three other girls — each peering over her besworded pimp's shoulder like the first — weren't you in trouble with them also when we last left Lankhmar?"
"I don't know what you mean by trouble," the big man complained. "I rescued them from their protectors, who were abusing them dreadfully. Believe me, I trounced those protectors and the girls laughed. Thereafter I treated them like princesses."
"You did indeed — and spent all your cash and jewels on them, which is why you were broke. But one thing you didn't do for them: you didn't become their protector in turn. So they had to go back to their former protectors, which has made them justifiably angry at you."
"I should have become a pimp?" the big man objected. "Women!" Then, "I see a few of _your_ girls in the crowd. Neglect to pay them off?"
"No, borrowed from them and forgot to return the money," the small man explained. "Hi-ho, it certainly appears that the welcoming committee is out in force."
"I told you we should have entered the city by the Grand Gate, where we'd have been lost in the numbers," the big man grumbled. "But no, I listened to you and came to this godforsaken End Gate."
"Wrong," the other said. "At the Grand Gate we wouldn't have been able to tell our foes from the bystanders. Here at least we know that everyone is against us, except for the Overlord's gate watch, and I'm not too sure of them — at the least they'll have been bribed to take no notice of our slaying."
"Why should they all be so hot to slay us?" the big man argued. "For all they know we may be coming home laden with rich treasures garnered from many a high adventure at the ends of the earth. Oh, I'll admit that three or four of them may also have a private grudge, but — "
"They can see we haven't a train of porters or heavily-laden mules," the small man interrupted reasonably. "In any case they know that after slaying us, they can pay themselves off from any treasure we may have and split the remainder. It's the rational procedure, which all civilized men follow."
"Civilization!" the big man snorted. "I sometimes wonder — "
