The peasant considered these statements and then nodded his head in agreement.

“We are two weary travelers,” continued the Mouser.

Again the peasant nodded gravely.

“In return for two silver coins will you give us lodging for the night?"

The peasant rubbed his chin and then held up three fingers.

“Very well, you shall have three silver coins,” said the Mouser, slipping from his horse. Fafhrd followed suit.

Only after giving the old man a coin to seal the bargain did the Mouser question casually, “Is there not an old, deserted place near your dwelling called the House of Angarngi?” The peasant nodded.

“What's it like?"

The peasant shrugged his shoulders.

“Don't you know?"

The peasant shook his head.

“But haven't you ever seen the place?” The Mouser's voice carried a note of amazement he did not bother to conceal.

He was answered by another head-shake.

“But, father, it's only a few minutes’ walk from your dwelling, isn't it?"

The peasant nodded tranquilly, as if the whole business were no matter for surprise.

A muscular young man, who had come from behind the cottage to take their horses, offered a suggestion.

“You can see tower from other side the house. I can point her out."

At this the old man proved he was not completely speechless by saying in a dry, expressionless voice: “Go ahead. Look at her all you want."

And he stepped into the cottage. Fafhrd and the Mouser caught a glimpse of a child peering around the door, an old woman stirring a pot, and someone hunched in a big chair before a tiny fire.

The upper part of the tower proved to be barely visible through a break in the trees. The last rays of the sun touched it with deep red. It looked about four or five bowshots distant. And then, even as they watched, the sun dipped under and it became a featureless square of black stone.