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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Alan Dean Foster
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
desired destination. I won't argue with you." He paused,
added as an afterthought, "Dinner's about ready to boil over.
Make up your minds."
"We have little choice," said Clothahump, "and no further
use for the wagon anyway." He glared at Caz, who turned
away and studied the river, unrepentant. "We agree. When
can we start?"
"Tomorrow morning. I have my own preparations to make
and supplies to lay in. Meanwhile, I suggest you all get a
good night's sleep." Bribbens looked at the cliffs which rose
to the east.
"Into the Teeth." He fixed a bulbous eye on Jen-Tom.
"You'll have no need for money in there, nor on the other
side, if there is one. My offspring will find it here if I don't
come back, and it will do them more good than the dead."
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THE HOUR OF Tm GATE
Humming to himself, he turned and padded back toward his
house.
They slept in the wagon again that night. As Bribbens
formally explained, their fee included only his services and
transport and did not extend to the use of his home.
But the following morning he was up before the sun and
was ready to depart before they'd hardly awakened. "I like to