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could see over the edge. Cradled inside were the dull brown gem-glittering skull
and the jewel-tipped bones.
* * * *
The upper bowl of the crystal water clock was almost empty. Fafhrd stolidly
watched the twinkling drops form and fall into the lower bowl. He was on the
floor with his back to the wall. His legs were tied from knee to ankle, his arms
laced behind him with an equally unnecessary amount of cordage, so that he felt
quite numb. To either side of him squatted an armed thief.
When the upper bowl emptied it would be midnight.
Occasionally his gaze shifted to the dark, disfigured faces which ringed the
table on which the clock and certain curious instruments of torture rested. The
faces were those of the aristocrats of the Thieves' Guild, men with crafty eyes and
lean cheeks, who vied with one another as to the richness and greasiness of their
finery. Flickering torches threw highlights of soiled reds and purples, tarnished
cloth of silver and gold. But behind their masklike expressions Fafhrd sensed
uncertainty. Only Slevyas, sitting in the chair of dead Krovas, seemed truly calm
and self-possessed. His voice was almost casual as he interrogated a lesser thief
who knelt abjectly before him.
"Are you indeed as great a coward as you would make us think?" he asked.
"Would you have us believe you were afraid of an empty cellar?"
"Master, I am no coward," pleaded the thief. "I followed the Northerner's
footprints in the dust along the narrow corridor and almost to the bottom of the
ancient stair, forgotten until today. But no man alive could hear without terror
those strange, high voices, those bony rattlings. The dry air choked my throat, a
wind blew out my torch. Things tittered at me. Master, I would attempt to filch a
jewel from inside a wakeful cobra's coil if you should command it. But down into
that place of darkness I could not force myself."
Fafhrd saw Slevyas' lips tighten and waited for him to pronounce sentence on
the miserable thief, but remarks by the notables sitting around the table
interrupted.
"There may be some truth to his tale," said one. "After all, who knows what
may be in these cellars the Northerner's blundering discovered?"
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r r
"Until last night we never knew they existed," echoed another. "In the
trackless dust of centuries strange things may lurk."
"Last night," added a third, "we scoffed at Fissif's tale. Yet on the throat of
Krovas we found the marks of claws or of naked bone."
It was as if a miasma of fear had welled up from the cellars far below. Voices
were solemn. The lesser thieves who stood near the walls, bearing torches and
weapons, were obviously gripped by superstitious dread. Again Slevyas hesitated,
although unlike the others he seemed perplexed rather than frightened. In the
hush the monotonous splashes of the falling drops sounded loudly. Fafhrd
decided to fish in troubled waters.
"I will tell you myself of what I found in the cellars," he said in a deep voice.
"But first tell me where you thieves bury your dead."
Appraising eyes turned upon him. This was the first time he had spoken since
he came to his senses. His question was not answered, but he was allowed to
speak. Even Slevyas, although he frowned at Fafhrd's words and fingered a
thumbscrew, did not object. And Fafhrd's words were something to hear. They
had a cavernous quality which suggested the northland and the Cold Waste, a
dramatic ring like that in the voice of a skald. He told in detail of his descent into
the dark regions below. Indeed, he added new details for effect, and made the
whole experience seem like some frightening epic. The lesser thieves, unused to
this kind of talk, gaped at him. Those around the table sat very still. He spun out
his story as long as he dared, playing for time.
During the pauses in his speech the dripping of the water clock was no longer
to be heard. Then Fafhrd's ear caught a small grating sound, as of stone on stone.
His listeners did not seem to notice it, but Fafhrd recognized it as the opening of
the stone panel in the alcove, before which the black drapes still hung.
He had reached the climax of his revelations.
"There, in those forgotten cellars," his voice told, going a note deeper, "are the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]