““The seven black priests—" Fafhrd muttered. "The six," the Mouser corrected. "We killed one of them last night." "Well, the six then," Fafhrd conceded. "They seem angry with us." "As why shouldn't they be?" the Mouser demanded. "We stole their idol's only eye. Such an act annoys priests tremendously." It seemed to have more eyes than that one," Fafhrd asserted thoughtfully, "if only it had opened them." "Thank Aarth it didn't!" the Mouser hissed. "And 'ware that dart!" Fafhrd hit the dirt—or rather the rock—instantly, and the black dart skirred on the ice ahead. "I think they're unreasonably angry," Fafhrd asserted, scrambling to his feet. "Priests always are," the Mouser said philosophically, with a sidewise shudder at the dart's black-crusted point.””
