“The ghost did that?” he asked as they began to walk slowly toward town.

She nodded. “When Gwaan pushed into the dark treasury past Cif, he was clutched and struck senseless for an hour's space — and has since not left his bed.” Her long lips quirked. “Or else he stumbled in the churning shadows and struck his head ‘gainst the wall — there's that possibility too, since he has lost his memory for the event."

“Tell me about it more circumstantially,” Fafhrd requested.

“The council session had lasted well after dark, for the waning gibbous moon had just risen,” she began. “Cif and I being in attendance as treasurer and scribe, Zwaaken and Gwaan called on Cif for an inventory of the ikons of the virtues — ever since the loss of the Gold Cube of Square Dealing (though in a good cause) they've fretted about them. Cif accordingly unlocked the door to the treasury and then hesitated on the threshold. Moon-light striking in through the small barred window (she told me later) left most of the treasure chamber still in the dark, and there was something unfamiliar about the arrangement of the things she saw that sounded a warning to us. Also, there was a faint noxious marshy scent—"

“What does that window look on?” Fafhrd asked.

“The sea. Gwaan pushed past her impatiently (and most discourteously), and then she swears there was a faint blue smoke like muted lightning and in that trice she seemed to see a silent skinny figure of silver fog embrace Gwaan hungrily. She got the impression, she said, of a weak ghost seeking to draw strength from the living. Gwaan gave a choking cry and pitched to the floor When torches were brought in (at Cif's behest) the chamber was otherwise empty, but the Gold Arrow of Truth had fallen from its shelf and lay beneath the window, the other ikons had been moved slightly from their places, as if they'd been feebly groped, while on the floor were narrow patches, like footprints, of stenchful black bottom muck."