by Fritz Leiber (1910)
We recommend books we believe in. As an Amazon Associate we earn from qualifying purchases.
You know that electric jolt when two strangers, forged in separate hells, crash together in a den of thieves and realize they’re destined to carve up the world side by side? That’s the heart of Swords and Deviltry, Fritz Leiber’s raw, grinning origin of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, slamming you into the dingy alleys of Lankhmar where a seven-foot barbarian from the icy Cold Waste meets his match in a wiry, dagger-flashing rogue from the slums.
Feel the chill first: Fafhrd, that massive red-haired northerner with a voice like grinding glaciers, loses his love Ivrian to sorcery in the haunted ruins of her home. His rage boils over—picture him charging through blizzards, longsword cleaving trolls and witches, every swing a thunderclap of grief and fury. Then shift to the Gray Mouser, sleek as a shadow, his name not yet earned, avenging his doomed sorceress Ivah amid the treacherous lanes of Croth. Leiber paints their solo descents with lean, vicious prose—no bloated epics here, just the knife-edge thrill of personal vendettas, where magic reeks of brimstone and every shadow hides a backstab.
But oh, the rush when they collide in “Induction.” Fafhrd, drowning his sorrows in a seedy tavern, spots the Mouser—small, smirking, eyes like chipped obsidian—pickpocketing amid a riot of norries and beggars. They tumble into chaos together: poisoned blades, a mad chase through fog-choked streets, laughing through the blood as they dispatch a coven of undead lovers. It’s buddy adventure dialed to eleven, witty barbs flying faster than steel—“You’re a fool with muscles!” the Mouser snaps, while Fafhrd booms back, “And you’re a midget with delusions!” Their chemistry crackles, gray morality and all, making every heist and brawl feel alive, unpredictable, like you’re right there swigging ale and dodging spells.
What sets this apart in sword-and-sorcery? Leiber doesn’t glorify lone wolves; he revels in the duo’s mismatched spark, turning pulp grit into something slyly human—flawed men bound by loyalty, outsmarting gods and guilds with brains over brawn. Echoes ripple through later rogues like Scott Lynch’s Locke Lamora or even the banter in The Lies of Locke Lamora, but Leiber birthed the blueprint.
If you loved Conan’s savage solos but craved the sharp camaraderie of a true partner-in-crime, or if the Gentleman Bastards left you hungry for origin tales with real bite, this is your fix—pure, unfiltered joy.
Grab Swords and Deviltry tonight; Fafhrd and the Mouser are sharpening their blades, waiting for you to join the fray.
Author portrait: Photo: Will Hart | License: CC BY 2.0
Browse all book recommendations • Epic Fantasy Novels — Adventure-first. Keeping the door open.
