Swords Against the Shadowland

Laurian laughed bitterly. "Indeed. I was but a pampered wife deeply in love with a man who gave me everything I wanted. And all I wanted were flowers and fruit trees, chimes to sing in the wind, fountains and pebbled walkways—a perfect garden in which to sit in the sunshine with Sadaster's head in my lap while I read poetry to him and stroked his brow."

Laurian's hands clutched the armrests of her chair. Slowly, with great effort showing on her face, she pushed herself up and stood. The veils of mist inside the sarcophagus swirled lightly about her as she pressed her hands together, the blindfold trailing from her fingers.

"Malygris made a grave mistake when he killed Sadaster," she said. With one frail hand, she gestured around. "He left me alive with my husband's magnificent library and a heart full of hatred."

Fafhrd felt a chill pass over his heart. "You studied magic, knowing the consequences," he said.

She laughed again. "I immersed myself in it," she answered with defiant anger. "Sadaster meant everything to me. I watched him rot day after day while he struggled uselessly to find a counter-measure to Malygris's evil curse ..." She pressed a palm to her head and stopped suddenly, trembling, as if unable to continue.

"I would walk through hell," she said at last in a quieter, more controlled voice, "challenge Death, himself, in the Shadowland to strike Malygris down for his crime." With a weary sigh, she sank into her chair, positioned her arms on the rests, and leaned her head back. "I am too weak. Knowledge I have, and power, but too little. And only my shroudcloth keeps me warm now."

Laurian's voice trailed away, and her head turned a little as if she had fallen asleep. Fafhrd watched her, uncertain of what he should do. Wait? Leave? He still had unanswered questions. He studied her face, so beautiful but for her ravaged eyes and the faintest lines of grief etched across her brow.

He found himself admiring Laurian. Love and vengeance, and the desperations to which they drove a person, were things he understood well. He thought of his own Vlana. Had he not stormed Thieves' House with all its traps and horrors to slay the thrice-cursed sorcerer, Hristomilo, who had killed Fafhrd's one true love?

He looked with a potent sympathy upon Laurian, who dared to claim Sadaster's magic for herself, caring not if Malygris's spell claimed her life so long as she found the power to take that hated wizard in the bargain. Fafhrd nodded approvingly.

Aye, he understood Sadaster's widow.

Sameel nudged his arm and offered him another cup of steaming gahvey. He accepted with surprise, unaware that the girl had slipped from the library and returned. Her moist gaze settled upon Laurian as she passed the cup into his hands.

"My mistress is dying," she whispered sadly. "Only the box sustains her life force, and in it she lingers, seeing beyond sight, hearing beyond hearing, pursuing her vengeance. I fear her time is short."

As if waking, Laurian's head snapped forward. "I am not dead yet, child," she said.

Fafhrd held his cup without drinking. "How is it that you see?" he asked.

Lifeless eyes turned his way. "The mist and the fog tell me things," she answered, waving a hand with slow grace, setting the mist that yet lingered in the sarcophagus to swirling. "We are great friends, the fog and I. The fog touched you in the street, and the one you call the Mouser. It overheard you and whispered to me that you also seek Malygris." A hard smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "And by my dream I knew that I could trust you. The enemy of my enemy. . . . I'm sure you've heard."

Fafhrd sipped his beverage. "Has the fog told you where to find Malygris?"

"I've found several of his hiding places," Laurian answered, her hands curling into small fists, "but never Malygris, himself."

"I can sense your disappointment," Fafhrd said, attempting a bit of levity while he considered. "I thought that Malygris loved you. In my dream, he slew Sadaster out of jealousy."

Laurian's face reddened. "I met the fool but one time, Northerner—at the celebration of my engagement to Sadaster. He and my husband once were friends. In his warped mind, he fancies that he's loved me ever since, and that only some black spell of Sadaster's kept me from returning that love."

Fafhrd shrugged as he took another sip of the hot, strong-tasting beverage. Beneath his calm demeanor, his thoughts churned with schemes and possibilities. "Still," he said slowly as he fingered the rim of his cup, "sometimes the simplest plans are best. Have you invited him over for gahvey?"

Laurian started. "What?"

"He's a man, isn't he?" Fafhrd said, raising his cup in a mock-toast. "Open your window, wave a hanky, and call yoo-hoo." Fafhrd quickly swallowed the rest of his gahvey and handed the cup back to Sameel. "Trust me," he added. "If he's in love, he'll come."

Laurian touched a fingertip softly to her lips as she considered. "I could set traps, magical snares ..."