“What is that?” whispered Lief.
“A polypan,” said Dain, wrinkling his nose and taking a step back. “And if this captain uses polypans as crew, he is up to no good.”
“I believe I saw something like it in the markets at Rithmere,” said Barda. “It was moving around the crowd with a cup, collecting money for a woman who was playing the violin.”
Dain nodded. “And secretly collecting far more than that, no doubt,” he muttered, as the little boat approached. “Polypans are expert thieves. It is said that they can take the shirt off your back without your knowledge.”
The rowing boat ran aground on the mud and the polypan beckoned, grinning widely. Lief saw that it was chewing some sort of dark-colored gum. Its teeth were stained brown and as the companions waded through the reeds towards it, it spat a gob of brown liquid into the river.
Lief and Dain climbed into the boat. Barda pushed it off the mud and then climbed in after them.
The polypan spat again, and then began rowing back to the River Queen. Though it was now carrying three extra people, the little boat ploughed through the water at great speed. The polypan’s long, hairy arms were very powerful, and it seemed to have boundless energy.
When they reached the side of the larger boat, they found that a rope ladder had been lowered over the side. They began to climb upward, one after the other, very aware of the polypan’s little black eyes fixed on them. No doubt, thought Lief uncomfortably, it was noting every pocket in their jackets, every fastening on their packs.
He felt glad that the Belt of Deltora was safely hidden. His only regret was that now it could not tell him if the feeling of danger that flooded over him the moment he set foot on the boat’s deck was real, or imagined.
The other passengers stared curiously at the newcomers. One, a hugely fat man in a striped jersey, was clutching a large painted box with a handle. A music box, Lief guessed, remembering the music he had heard from the shore. “Ho-di-ho!” the fat man cried, in a strangely light, shrill voice for one so large. “Lockie the Stripe at your service, music-lovers!”
The woman beside him giggled. She was also quite plump, and was wearing a pink dress and mittens. Her round face was framed by huge bunches of pink curls that clustered over her forehead and cheeks. With one hand she waved girlishly at Lief, Barda, and Dain. With the other she nudged the arm of a tall, thin man with a patch over one eye who stood by her side. He nodded gravely.
Two other men looked up from a table where they had been playing cards, but made no attempt to speak. They both had shaved heads, and had broad bands tied around their brows. Their fingers were covered in rings, and each had what looked like an animal tooth stuck through one ear. They did not look friendly.
The last passenger was a haughty-looking young woman in a fine purple cloak tied at the throat with golden cord. The hands that held her golden parasol were tightly gloved in black to match her shining high-heeled boots. A scarf of purple silk was bound closely around her head. Long golden earrings swung from her ears. Her face was powdered white, her lips were painted red, and her eyes were outlined heavily in black. After one bored glance at the newcomers she turned away and stared out at the water, twirling her parasol.
Lief looked around, trying to appear at ease. But his heart was sinking. Any one of these characters could be an Ol. They could all be Ols, come to that. He began to wonder if he, Barda, and Dain would have been better off remaining in the reed beds.
The captain strode up, grinning. He was a short, chunky man with a twisted nose and grey hair in a thick braid that hung down his back like a rope. His peaked cap was pulled so low on his forehead that his eyes were in deep shadow. “Welcome aboard! How far will you be going?” he asked.
“One of my sons and I have business on the coast,” Barda said pleasantly.
“Is that so?” grinned the captain. “Fishy business, I’ve no doubt.” He nudged Barda knowingly, then stuck out a filthy hand for payment. As Barda counted out the coins, Lief saw that the captain’s little finger was missing, and the ring finger was just a stump.
“A little argument with a big worm, lad,” said the captain, noticing that Lief was looking at his hand. “You’ll want to keep your own little pinkies out of the water as we get on. The worms, they swim up from the sea. And the farther in they get, the hungrier they get.” He grinned, and the woman in pink giggled nervously.
“My younger son wishes to stop off in Tora,” Barda said, raising his voice slightly. “Can you oblige him?”
“Tora?” The captain snorted with laughter. “Why, no. I can’t oblige the young fellow there, I fear. A visit to Tora is not possible for us.”
Dain gave a start, but instantly controlled himself. Plainly, he had decided that he had no choice but to stay with the boat, at least for the present.
Barda looked at him, then shrugged agreement.
“All right. Only two more things,” the captain went on. “One, I’m offering a ride, not a guard service. This is a cruel river, and your safety is your own concern. Two, if you’re Ols, that’s your business. I’ll carry Ols as happily as I’ll carry anyone, as long as they pay. But you’ll keep your hands to yourselves while you’re on this boat, or you’ll find yourselves overboard feeding the worms. I’ve dealt with Ols before, and I can do it again. Understand?”
Lief, Barda, and Dain stared, then nodded. The captain grinned, turned on his heel, and left them.
“It’s all right,” hissed the woman in pink. “He said that to us, too. I suppose he has to be careful. But really!”
The captain had returned to the helm in the boat’s cabin. He shouted some orders, the polypan leaped to do his bidding, a whistle sounded, and the boat began moving again.
Lockie the Stripe sat down with a grunt, placed the painted music box between his knees and began to turn the handle. A piping, jigging tune began. The woman in pink and her long, thin partner began to dance, their feet thumping on the rough boards. She laughed. He remained as solemn as the grave. The two other men went back to their card game. The young woman in the purple cloak twirled her parasol and stared out at the river.
The companions sat down on a bench by the rail.
“A strange group,” Barda muttered. “We will have to keep our wits about us.”
“Indeed.”
They all looked up. The young woman in purple had moved closer to them. She was still staring at the water, but plainly it was she who had spoken.
Lief stared at her. At the proud tilt of her head, the painted lips, the black-shadowed eyes, the long golden earrings. Then he had the shock of his life as he recognized her.
It was Jasmine.
The sun was very low in the sky. The River Queen chugged on, steadily moving down the river. Lockie the Stripe had at last grown tired of turning the handle of his music box, and was lying flat on his back on the deck with his eyes closed. The woman in pink and her companion were murmuring together. The two card-playing men had begun another game.
Without making any sign that she knew them, Jasmine had moved away from Barda, Lief, and Dain once more. Now she was sitting alone under her parasol at the other end of the boat. “I cannot believe I did not recognize her!” Lief whispered for the twentieth time. “How did she come by those clothes?”
“From our friend Steven, I have no doubt,” Barda whispered back. “She must have tried to go inland, to avoid the reed beds, and been forced at last to double back to the Broad River path. So it was that she ended up behind us, instead of in front.”