Foster, Dean - Spellsinger 02 - The Hour of the Gate

said, glancing challengingly at Jon-Tom, who tactfully did

not respond, "outeat any other intelligent amphibian or mam-

mal, and I have twenty-two matured tadpoles who can attest

to my other abilities.

"My fee is one goldpiece per league. I'm no cook, and

you can provide your own fodder, or fish if you like. As to

drink, river water's good enough for me, for I'm as home in

it as in this house, but if you get drunk on my craft you'll

soon find yourself swimming for shore. Any questions so

far?"

No one said anything. "Anyone care to dispute anything

I've said?" Still no comment from the visitors. Full of

impatient energy, Talea left her seat and stalked to the door,

stood there leaning against the jamb and staring out at the

river. Bribbens watched her and nodded approvingly.

"Right." He leaned back in his chair, picked idly at the

tangled fringe of his right sleeve. "Now then. How many of

you are going, is there cargo, and where is it you wish to

go?"

Clothahump tapped the table with short fingers. "There is

no cargo save our nominal supplies and personal effects, and

all of us are going." He added uncertainly, "Does our

number affect the fee?"

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THE HOUR OF THE GATE

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."

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The frog sat back down slowly. "You realize that's just a

rumor. There iftay not be any other side."

"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 compli-

cated 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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THE HOUR OF THE GATE

"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 remem-

brance. "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 Jon-

Tom'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?"

"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

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Alan Dean Foster

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, ignor-

ing Pog. The others filed out after him. .

Tradesman or not, Bribbens inspected the wagon and its

team intimately, from the state of the harness buckles to the

lizard's teeth.

When he was finished underneath the wagon, he crawled

out, stared at Clothahump. "I accept. It will make up the

difference."

"How munificent of you!" Caz had taken no part in the

bargaining, but his expression revealed he was something less

than pleased by the outcome. "The wagon alone is worth

twenty goldpieces. You would leave us broke and destitute."

"Perhaps," admitted Bribbens, "but I'm the only one who

stands a chance of leaving you broke and destitute at your