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added uncertainly, "Does our number affect the fee?"
The frog shoved out his considerable lower lip. "Makes no difference
to me. Fee's the same whether one of you goes or all of you. The boat has to
travel the same distance upstream and the same distance down again when I
return. One goldpiece per league."
"That's part of the reason for my inquiry," said the wizard.
"The goldpiece per league?" Bribbens eyed him archly.
"No. The direction. You see, it's downstream we wish to go, not up."
The frog belched once. "Downstream. It's only three days from here
to the base of the Teeth. Not much between. A couple of villages and that's
all, and them only a day from here. No one lives at the base of the mountains.
They're all afraid of the occasional predator who slinks down out of the
Teeth, like the flying lizards, the Ginnentes who nest in the crags and
crevices. I hardly ever find anyone who wants to go that way. Most everything
lies upstream."
"Nevertheless, we wish to travel down," said the wizard. "Far
farther, I dare say, than you are accustomed to going. Of course, if you chose
not to go, we will understand. It would only be normal for you to be afraid."
Bribbens leaned forward sharply, was eye to eye with Clothahump
across the table, his body stretched over the wood, webbed hands flat on the
surface.
"Bribbens Oxiey is afraid of nothing in or out of the river. Visitor
or not, I don't like your drift, turtle."
Clothahump did not pull away from the batrachian face inches from
his own. "I am a wizard and fear only that which I cannot understand, boatman.
We wish to travel not to the base of the mountains but through them. Down the
river as far as it will carry us and then out the other side of Zaryt's
Teeth."
The frog sat back down slowly. "You realize that's just a rumor.
There may not be any other side."
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"That makes it interesting, doesn't it?" said Clotbahump
Fingers drummed on the table, marking time and thoughts. "One
hundred goldpieces," Bribbens said at last.
"You said the fee didn't vary," Talea reminded him fror the doorway.
"One gold piece a league."
"That is for travel on earth, female. Hell is more expensive
country."
"I thought you said you weren't afraid." Jon-Tom was careful to make
it sound like a normal question, devoid of taunting.
"I'm not," countered Bribbens, "but neither am I stupid If we
survive this journey I want more in return than personal satisfaction.
"Once we enter the mountains I shall be dealing with unknown
waters... and probably other unknowns as well. Nevertheless," he added with
becoming indifference, "it should be interesting, as you say, wizard. Water is
water, wherever it may be."
But Clothahump pushed away from the table, spoke grimly. "I'm sorry,
Bribbens, but we can't pay you."
"A wizard who can't transmute gold?"
"I can," insisted Clothahump, looking embarrassed. "It's just that
I've misplaced the damn spell, and it's too complicated to try and fake." He
checked his plastron again. "I can give you a few pieces now and the rest, uh,
later."
Bribbens rose, slapped the table loudly with both hands. "It's been
an interesting conversation and I wish you all luck, which you are going to
need even more than you do a good and willing boatman. Now if you don't mind
excusing me, I think my supper's about ready." He started back toward the
stove.
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"Wait a minute." Clothahump frowned at Jon-Tom. Bribbens halted. "We
can pay you, though I'm not sure how much."
"My boy, there is no point in lying. I don't do business that way.
We will just have to "
"No, we can, Clothahump." He grinned at Mudge. "I'm something of a
beggar in wolfs clothing."
"Wot?" Then the otter's face brightened with remembrance. "I'd
bloody well forgotten that night, mate."
Jon-Tom unsnapped his cape. It landed heavily on the table and
Bribbens eyed it with interest. As he and the others watched, Jon-Tom and
Mudge slit the cape's lining. Coins poured from the rolled lower edge.
When the counting was concluded, the remnant of JonTom's hastily
salvaged gambling winnings totaled sixty-eight gold pieces and fifty-two
silver.
"Not quite enough."
"Please," said Ror, "isn't it sufficient? We'll pay you me rest...."
"Later. I know." The boatman would not bend. "Later is a synonym for
never, female. Would you wish me to convey you 'almost' to the end of me river
and then make you swim the rest of the way? By the same light, I will not
accept 'almost' my determined fee."
"If you're as able as you are stubborn, you're for sure the best
boatman on die river," grumbled Jon-Tom.
"There's something more." Talea was still leaning in the doorway,
but now she was staring outside. "What about our wagon and team?"
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"Sure!" Jon-Tom rose, almost bumped his head, and looked down at
Bribbens. "We've got a wagon which any farmer or fisherman would be proud to
own. It's big enough to carry all of us and more, and sturdy enough to have
done it all the way across the Swordsward from Polastrindu. There are
harnesses, yokes, four solid dray lizards, and spare wheels and supplies, all
made from the finest materials. It was given to us by the city council of
Polastrindu itself." Bribbens looked uncertain. "I'm not a tradesman." "At
least have a look at it," Plor implored him. The frog hesitated, then padded
out onto the porch, ignoring Pog. The others filed out after him. .
Tradesman or not, Bribbens inspected the wagon and its team
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