Swords in the Mist (Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, #3)

by Fritz Leiber

Then a small black shape swooped into the room through a high window, and the Mouser grinned. “Hugin,” he called luringly. The shape swooped obediently to his sleeve and clung there, head down. He detached from the bat’s leg a tiny parchment. “Fancy, Fafhrd, it’s from the commander of our rear guard,” he announced gaily. “Listen: “‘To my agents Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, funeral greetings! I have regretfully given up all hope for you, and yet—token of my great affection—I risk my own dear Hugin in order to get this last message through. Incidentally, Hugin, if given opportunity, will return to me from Mist—something I am afraid you will not be able to do. So if, before you die, you see anything interesting—and I am sure you will—kindly scribble me a memorandum. Remember the proverb: Knowledge takes precedence over death. Farewell for two thousand years, dearest friends. Ningauble.’”