"What about these coins?"

"Keep them," said Angel. "They're an earnest of rewards to come."

It took only a few minutes to load the boat. They sang ribald songs together as they passed among the guardboats, and Sken roundly cursed the guards by name. They knew her well, and let her pass. They rounded a bend and passed into the forest, where the river ran cool and deep.

Heptam was behind them, and they had begun the long road to Cranning.

PATIENCE DID NOT ENJOY THE RIVER TRAVEL NOT THAT the water made her sick-she had crossed seawater often enough between King's Hill and Lost Souls' Island that the river seemed calm. There were many things that contributed to her malaise. The death of her father, the loss of all that was familiar to her, and, on top of that, the ever-present Cranning call, urging her on; she felt she had lost control of things, and it made her anxious.

What made it worse was that she had genuine physical discomfort as well. Sken and Angel were frank enough about handling the elimination of waste; they hung over the gunnel and everyone discreetly looked away. But Patience had swallowed the scepter of the Heptarchs, and wasn't about to let it vanish in the depths of the River Glad. So she could only relieve her bowel on land, and they didn't stop every day, or even every other day. And when they did, she took no pleasure in searching for the crystal. Many times she wished it had been smaller, or that she hadn't swallowed it. Since no one searched her, it hadn't been necessary after all, and now all this annoyance was for nothing.

But she found it at last, and tucked it safely away, hoping she would never have to resort to her own alimentary system as a hiding place again.

They left the Glad River at Wanwood, where it bent north and west. They bought a half-open carriage with four horses; they wouldn't need to keep out the cold, only the rain. The roads alternated between ruts and mudholes, depending on the weather. On the worst roads, Sken climbed off the carriage and walked.

"I thought you were well enough padded to withstand a little bouncing," said Angel.

"Padded! This is all meat, and tender as veal today, after this pounding."

No doubt they seemed an odd family, if anyone on the road took them for father, mother, and son. Patience, still disguised as a boy, publicly referred to Angel and Sken as uncle and aunt, which annoyed them both. But on the highway, few people commented on oddities, not to their faces, anyway; and their money won them admirers wherever they went.

The roads were not as safe as the river, not for travelers without armed escort. They were careful to stop for the night well before dusk, and in every inn they stayed at, the three of them shared a room. more than once Angel had to persuade burglars to abandon their life of crime. Removing a few fingers usually did the trick.

At last they reached Cranwater, the great river that flowed from Skyfoot in a single stream to the sea. They reached it at Waterkeep, an ancient castle that once marked the northeast boundary of Korfu. Now the castle was in ruins and the city had shrunk to a fair-sized market town. Two dozen inns and taverns, what with the intersection of the river and the road.

They chose an inn and stabled the horses. At supper, with bread and cheese and pea soup at the tavern table, and Sken's mug filled with warm ale. Angel and Patience discussed their plans for the morning.

"It's time we left the road," said Angel. "The river is here, our highway northward."

"The river's narrow here," said Sken. "The current's strong. I'd need two strong men to help me row against it."

Angel had already thought of that. "The prevailing wind in these latitudes at this time of year is from the west, and usually the southwest."

"You're going to buy a windsucker?" asked Sken.

"Do you know how to pilot one?"

"I was wrapped in sailcloth the day I was born," said Sken. "Long before I settled me on the river with my second husband, my family was a seafaring family. Left our stilts every spring with the floods and a cargo of such stuff as Heptam makes, then home again before summer with the earliest fruits from the islands. Never got rich, as I recall it, but we got drunk a lot."

"Then you know how to handle a sailing vessel."

"Never done it on a river this narrow. But no reason it can't be done. Just have to do things faster, that's all.

Don't buy too big a boat, that's all. You'd better let me choose it, too."

"Is that all?"

"That's all. Are you two made of money?"

A dwelf stood by their table with a pitcher of ale.

"More?" he asked.

"No," said Angel.

"Yes," said Sken, glaring at him.

"Are you two made of money?" asked the dwelf. He had Sken's intonation exactly.

"Now look what you've done," said Angel. "We'll have the dwelf repeating it all over the tavern."

"Repeat repeat," said the dwelf. Then he giggled.

Angel put a couple of coppers in his hand, turned him around, and pushed him toward the kitchen.

"Sorry," said Sken.

"Even if dwelfs have no brains, they still have ears, and they can repeat anything." Angel let his annoyance show. It could be intimidating, and Sken was silent.

"Dwelfs are a puzzle," said Patience. "They do have their own language. They must have some kind of brain, to hold a language."

Angel shrugged. "I never ponder the mental capacity of dwelfs. I just think of them as exceptionally stupid geblings."

"But they aren't geblings, are they?"

"Another indigenous species. Imakulata needed humans, whether the geblings and dwelfs and gaunts thought so or not."

The innkeeper came out of the kitchen carrying bread to another table. But when that job was done, he came over and pulled up a chair beside Angel.

"Everything is excellent," said Sken. She was beginning to be drunk. "Everything is perfect. More ale, please."

The innkeeper was not amused. "I don't know where you people are from-probably Heptam, since you seem to think nothing can harm you."

"There are plenty of things that can harm us in Heptam," said Angel.

"There isn't a tavern in Waterkeep where you can; safely show as much money as you've shown, and talk as freely. I hope you aren't planning to travel from here by road."

"Shouldn't we?" asked Angel.

"Better hire a trustworthy guard. Preferably by arranging with the townmaster for some of the local police.

Otherwise you won't get ten miles from here alive."

"What is the unbearable danger?"

"Robbers."

"Is that all?"

"All? There's plenty of trade through here, and not much protection. Officially we're part of Pankos, but we haven't seen a royal officer in thirty years. So the townmaster makes the law in Waterkeep, and Tinker makes the law in the woods."

"Tinker?"

"He used to be a royal governor, or maybe just a royal governor's son. They say he was caught sleeping in the wrong bed. That was fifteen years ago. He lives in the forest north of here. They say he has a whole city of robbers living in treehouses. We call it Tinker's Wood."

"Sounds like children playing," said Angel.

"If you go south or east or west they'll stop you, and as long as you give them everything you own without a fight, they'll usually let you keep your clothes and your lives. If you have enough money, even your horses and carriage."

"And if we go north?"

"Then take an army. A very large one. Or go by boat.

Tinker figures anyone headed north by road has decided to die. And he believes that death can be a long and satisfying spectator sport."

"You've convinced us," said Angel. "And thank you for taking the risk of angering him, by warning us."