"There is an ambush about," Oliver explained.

Luthien stared at him incredulously, then looked back to the landing. More than a score of men moved down there, but just a pair of cyclopians, these showing no weapons and appearing as simple travelers waiting to cross. This was not common, Luthien knew, for there were few cyclopians on Bedwydrin, and those were only merchant guards or his father's own. Still, under the edicts of King Greensparrow, cyclopians were allowed free pa.s.sage as citizens of Avon, and affairs at Diamondgate did not seem so out of place.

"You have to learn to smell such things," Oliver remarked, recognizing the young man's doubts. Luthien shrugged and gave in, moving along the path at as fast a pace as Oliver would allow.

The two cyclopians, and many of the men, spotted the companions when they were about a hundred feet from the landing, but none made any gestures or even called out to indicate that the two might have been expected. Oliver, though, slowed a bit more, his eyes darting this way and that from under the brim of his hat.

A horn blew, indicating that all should move back from the end of the wharf as the barge was about to pull out.

Luthien started forward immediately, but Oliver held him in check.

"They are leaving," Luthien protested in a harsh whisper.

"Easy," Oliver implored him. "Make them think that we intend to simply wait for the next crossing."

"Make who think?" Luthien argued.

"You see those barrels along the wharf?" Oliver asked. Luthien swung his gaze about and Oliver squeezed hard on his forearm. "Do not be so obvious!" the halfling scolded softly.

Luthien sighed and subtly looked at the casks Oliver had mentioned. There was a long line of them; they had probably come from the mainland and were waiting for a caravan to claim them.

"They are marked with an X," Oliver remarked.

"Wine," Luthien explained.

"If they are wine, then why do so many have open bung-holes?" the alert halfling asked. Luthien looked more closely, and sure enough, saw that every third barrel had a small, open hole in it, minus its bung.

"And if those cyclopians on the landing are simply travelers," Oliver went on, "then why are they not on the departing barge?"

Luthien sighed again, this time revealing that he was starting to follow, and agree with, the halfling's line of reasoning.

"Can your horse jump?" Oliver asked calmly.

Luthien noted that the barge was slowly moving away from the wharf and understood what the halfling was thinking.

"I will tell you when to break," Oliver a.s.sured him. "And do kick a barrel into the water if you get the chance as you pa.s.s!"

Luthien felt his adrenaline building, felt the same tingling and b.u.t.terflies in the stomach that he got when he stepped into the arena. There was little doubt in the young man's mind that life beside Oliver deBurrows would not be boring!

They walked their mounts easily onto the boards of the thirty-foot wharf, pa.s.sing two workers without incident. A third man, one of the cargo workers, approached them smiling.

"Next barge is an hour before the noon," he explained cheerily, and he pointed to a small shed, starting to explain where the travelers could rest and take a meal while they waited.

"Too long!" Oliver cried suddenly, and off leaped Threadbare, Riverdancer charging right behind. Men dove out of the way; the two visible cyclopians shouted and scrambled, producing short swords from under their cloaks. As Oliver had predicted, every third barrel began to move, lids popping off and falling aside as cyclopians jumped out.

But the two companions had gained surprise. Riverdancer sprang past Oliver's pony and blasted past the two cyclopians, hurling them aside. Oliver moved Threadbare to the edge of the wharf, along the row of barrels, and managed to b.u.mp more than a few as he rushed by, spinning them into the drink.

The slow-moving ferry was fifteen feet out when Luthien got to the end of the wharf, no great leap for powerful Riverdancer, and the young man held on tight as he soared across.

Oliver came next, sitting high and waving his hat in one hand as Threadbare flew across, coming to a kicking and skidding stop, banging into Riverdancer atop the smooth wooden barge. Back on the wharf, a dozen cyclopians shouted protests and waved their weapons, but Oliver, more wary than his less-experienced companion, paid them no heed. The halfling swung down from his mount, his weapons coming out to meet the advance of a cyclopian that suddenly appeared from among the piles of cargo.

The rapier and main gauche waved in a dizzying blur, a precise and enchanting dance of steel, though they seemed to come nowhere near to hitting the halfling's opponent. The cyclopian gawked at the display, sincerely impressed. But when the flurry was done, the brute was not hurt at all. Its one eye looked down to its leather tunic, though, and saw that the halfling had cut an "O" into it in a fine cursive script. "I could write my whole name," Oliver remarked. "And I a.s.sure you, I have a very long name!"

With a growl of rage, the cyclopian lifted its heavy ax, and Oliver promptly dove forward, running right between its wide-spread legs and spinning about to poke the brute in the rump with his rapier.

"I would taunt you again," the halfling proclaimed, "but I see that you are too stupid to know that you are being taunted!"

The cyclopian howled and turned, then instinctively looked ahead again just in time to see Luthien's fist soaring into its face. Oliver meanwhile had retracted the rapier and rushed ahead, driving his shoulder into the back of the cyclopian's knees. Over went the brute, launched by Luthien's punch, to land heavily, flat on its back. It struggled for just a moment, then lay still.

A splash made Luthien turn around. The cyclopians on the wharf had taken up spears now and were hurling them out at the barge. "Tell the captain to get this ferry moving," Oliver said calmly to Luthien as he walked past. He handed Luthien a small pouch of coins. "And do pay the man." Oliver walked to the stern of the ferry, apparently unconcerned with the continuing spear volley.

"You sniffers of barnyard animals!" he taunted. "Stupid oafs who poke their own eyes when trying to pick their noses!"

The cyclopians howled and picked up their throwing pace.

"Oliver!" Luthien cried.

The halfling turned to regard him. "They have but one eye," he explained. "No way to gauge depth. Do you not know that cyclopians cannot throw?"

He turned about, laughing, then shouted, "h.e.l.lo!" and jumped straight up as a spear stuck into the deck right between his legs.

"You could be wrong," Luthien said, imitating the halfling's accent and stealing Oliver's usual line.

"Even one-eyes can get lucky," the halfling replied indignantly, with a snap of his green-gloved fingers. And to prove confidence in his point, he launched a new stream of taunts at the brutes on the wharf.

"What is this about?" an old, weather-beaten man demanded, grabbing Luthien by the shoulder. "I'll not have-"

He stopped when Luthien handed him the pouch of coins.

"All right, then," the man said. "But tether those horses, or it's your own loss!"

Luthien nodded and the wiry old man went back to the crank.

The ferry moved painfully slowly for the anxious companions, foot by foot across the choppy dark waters of the channel where the Avon Sea met the Dorsal. They saw cyclopians scrambling back on the wharf, trying to get the other ferry out of its dock and set off in pursuit. Luthien wasn't too concerned, for he knew that the boats, geared for solid and steady progress across the dangerous waters, could not be urged on any faster. He and Oliver had a strong lead on their pursuers, and Riverdancer and Threadbare would hit the ground across the way running, putting a mile or more behind them before the cyclopians stepped off their ferry.

Oliver joined Luthien beside the horses, limping and grumbling as he approached.

"Are you injured?" a concerned Luthien asked.

"It is my shoe," the halfling answered, and he held his shoe out for Luthien to see. It seemed intact, though quite dirty and quite wet, as if Oliver had just dipped his leg into the water.

"The stain!" Oliver explained, pushing it higher, near to Luthien's face. "When I crossed the roof of the merchant-type coach, I stepped in the blood of the dead cyclopian. Now I cannot get the blood off!"

Luthien shrugged, not understanding.

"I stole this shoe from the finest boarding school in Gascony," Oliver huffed, "from the son of a friend of the king himself! Where am I to find another in this too wild land you call your home?"

"There is nothing wrong with that one," Luthien protested.

"It is ruined!" Oliver retorted, and he crossed his arms over his chest, rocked back on one heel, his other foot tap-tapping, and pointedly looked away.

Luthien did well not to laugh at his pouting companion.

A few feet away, the downed cyclopian groaned and stirred.

"If he wakes up, I will kick him in the eye," Oliver announced evenly. "Twice."

Oliver snapped his glare up at Luthien, whose chest was now heaving with sobs of mirth. "And then I will write my name, my whole name, my very long whole name, across your ample b.u.t.tocks," the halfling promised.

Luthien buried his face in Riverdancer's s.h.a.ggy neck.

The ferry was well over a hundred yards out by then and nearing Diamondgate Isle, the halfway point. It seemed as if the friends had made their escape, and even pouting Oliver's mood seemed to brighten.

But then the guide rope jerked suddenly. Luthien and Oliver looked back to sh.o.r.e and saw cyclopians hanging from the high poles that held the ropes, hacking away on the rope with axes.

"Hey, don't you be doing that!" the captain of the ferry cried out, running back across the deck. Luthien was about to ask what problems might arise if the guide rope was cut down behind them when the rope fell free. The young man got his answer as the ferry immediately began to swing to the south, toward the rocks of the island, caught in the current of the channel.

The captain ran back the other way, screaming orders to his single crewman. The man worked frantically on the crank, but the ferry could not be urged any faster. It continued at its snail pace and its deadly swing to the south.

Luthien and Oliver grabbed hard to their saddles and tried to find some secure footing as the ferry bounced in. The boat sc.r.a.ped a few smaller rocks, narrowly missed one huge and sharp jag, and finally crashed into the rocks around a small and narrow inlet.

Cargo tumbled off the side; the cyclopian, just starting to regain its footing, went flying away, smacking hard into the barnacle-covered stone, where it lay very still. One of the other pa.s.sengers shared a similar fate, tumbling head over heels into the water, coming up gagging and screaming. Threadbare and Riverdancer held their ground stubbornly, though the pony lurched forward a bit, stepping onto Oliver's unshod foot. The halfling quickly reconsidered his disdain over his dirty shoe and took it out of his pocket.

More swells came in under them, grinding the ferry against the stone, splintering wood. Luthien dove to the deck and crawled across, grabbing hold of the fallen man and pulling him back up out of the water. The captain called for his crewman to crank, but then spat curses instead, realizing that with the other end of the guide rope unsecured, the ferry could not possibly escape the current.

"Bring Riverdancer!" Luthien called to Oliver, understanding the problem. He scrambled to the back of the raft and took up the loose guide rope, then looked about, finally discerning which of the many stones would best hold the rope. He moved to the very edge and looped up the rope, readying his throw.

A swell nearly sent him overboard, but Oliver grabbed him by the belt and held him steady. Luthien tossed the rope over the rock and pulled the loop as tight as he could. Oliver scrambled onto Riverdancer's back and turned the horse around, and Luthien came up behind, tying off the rope onto the back of the saddle.

Gently, the halfling eased the horse forward and the rope tightened, steadying the rocking ferry. Oliver kept the horse pressing forward, taking up any slack, as Luthien tied off the guide rope. Then they cut Riverdancer free and the cranking began anew, easing the ferry out of the inlet and back out from the rocks. A great cheer went up from the captain, his crewman, and the four other pa.s.sengers.

"I'll get her into Diamondgate's dock," the captain said to Luthien, pointing to a wharf around the outcropping of rocks. "We'll wait there for a ferry to come for us from the other side."

Luthien led the captain's gaze back into the channel, where the other ferry, teeming with armed cyclopians, was now working its way into the channel.

"All the way across," the young Bedwyr said. "I beg."

The captain nodded, looked doubtfully to the makeshift guide rope, and moved back to the front of the ferry. He returned just a few moments later, though, shaking his head.

"We have to stop," he explained. "They're flying a yellow flag on the Diamondgate dock."

"So?" put in Oliver, and he did not sound happy.

"They have spotted dorsals in the other side of the channel," Luthien explained to the halfling.

"We cannot take her out there," the captain added. He gave the pair a sincerely sympathetic look, then went back to the bow, leaving Luthien and Oliver to stare helplessly at each other and at the approaching boatload of cyclopians.

When they reached the Diamondgate dock, Luthien and Oliver helped everyone to get off the ferry. Then the halfling handed the captain another sack of coins and moved back to his pony, showing no intention of leaving the boat.

"We have to go on," Luthien explained to the gawking man. They both looked out to the two hundred yards of choppy dark water separating them from Eriador's mainland.

"The flag only means that dorsals have been spotted this morning," the captain said hopefully.

"We know that the cyclopians are very real," Luthien replied, and the captain nodded and backed away, signaling for his crewman to do likewise, surrendering his craft to Luthien and Oliver.

Luthien took the crank and set off at once, looking more to the sides than straight ahead. Oliver remained in the stern watching the cyclopians and the curiously forlorn group they had just left at the dock. Their expressions, truly concerned, set off alarms in the normally unshakable halfling.

"These dorsals," Oliver asked, moving up to join Luthien, "are they very big?"

Luthien nodded.

"Bigger than your horse?"

Luthien nodded.

"Bigger than the ferry?"

Luthien nodded.

"Take me back to the dock," Oliver announced. "I would fight the cyclopians."

Luthien didn't bother to respond, just kept cranking and kept looking from side to side, expecting to see one of those towering and ominous black fins rise up at any moment.

The cyclopians pa.s.sed Diamondgate, dropping two brutes off as they pa.s.sed. Oliver groaned, knowing that the cyclopians would inevitably try to cause mischief with the guide ropes once more. But the halfling's fears soon turned to enjoyment. The ropes were suspended quite high over the Diamondgate docks, and the cyclopians had to build a makeshift tower to get anywhere near them. Worse, as soon as the ferry with its cyclopian load had moved out a safe distance, the captain of Luthien's ferry, his crewman, and the other pa.s.sengers-even the injured one Luthien had pulled from the cold water-set on the two cyclopians, pushing them and their tower over the edge of the wharf and into the dark water.

At Oliver's cheer, young Luthien turned and saw that spectacle and marked it well, though he had no idea then of how significant that little uprising might later prove.

Oliver did a cartwheel, leaped and spun with joy, and came down frozen in place, looking out to the north side, to the open channel and the tall fin-thrice his height, at least-that had come up through the dark waves.

Luthien's smile disappeared as he considered his friend's sudden expression, then shifted his gaze to consider its source.

The dorsal fin sent a high wake in its speeding path, dropped to half its height, then slipped ominously under the water altogether.

Luthien, trying to remember all the advice his local fishermen had ever given to him, stopped the crank, even back-pulling it once to halt the ferry's momentum.

"Crank!" Oliver scolded, running forward, but Luthien grabbed him and held him steady and whispered for him to be quiet.

They stood together as the water around them darkened and the ferry shifted slightly to the south, nearly snapping its guide rope, moved by the pa.s.sage of the great whale as it brushed under them. When the whale emerged on the other side, Oliver glimpsed its full forty-foot length, its skin patched black and white. Ten tons of killer. The halfling would have fallen to the deck, his legs no longer able to support him, but Luthien held him steady.

"Stay calm and still," the young Bedwyr whispered. Luthien was counting on the cyclopians this time. They were beasts of mountain holes and surely knew little about the habits of dorsal whales.

The long fin reappeared starboard of the craft, moving slowly then, as if the whale had not decided its next move.

Luthien looked behind at the eagerly approaching cyclopians. He smiled and waved, pointing out the tall dorsal fin to them.

As Luthien expected, the cyclopians spotted the great whale and went berserk. They began scrambling all about the deck of their ferry; the one on the crank began cranking backward, trying to reverse direction. A few of the brutes even climbed up to their guide rope.

"Not such a bad idea," Oliver remarked, looking at his own high rope.