Three times Hallas had to break off before he finished a couplet to lean over the side of the ferry and disgorge his breakfast into the water.
“Oh, he’s really going through it, poor soul!” said Uncle, with a sigh of sympathy.
In a while the ferry nudged against the bank and little figures that I could barely recognize as my traveling companions started leading off the horses. One of the figures dropped to the ground and just lay there. I think it was Hallas.
The ferry started moving back toward us.
“Get ready. Arnkh, lead up the horses.”
“Harold, hey, Harold! Will you hold my hand?”
“Kli-Kli, are you being silly again?”
“No, I’m serious! I can’t swim! What if I fall in?”
“Sit in the middle of the ferry, and nothing bad will happen,” I reassured him, still not sure whether the goblin had thought up yet another trick or he really didn’t know how to swim.
“I’m afraid,” Kli-Kli said quite sincerely, sniffing.
The ferry picked up speed moving toward us, and ten minutes later we were leading the remaining horses onto it. The animals were quite calm at the prospect of crossing the river and didn’t balk. They took their places in special stalls, and Uncle let the ferryman know that we were ready to go.
“Put your backs into it!”
The great hulking ferry hands heaved, the drum creaked, and we set off.
The water splashed gently against the sides of the ferry, the planks smelled of duckweed and fish. The willows on the bank gradually drifted away.
“Kli-Kli, what are you doing?” I asked the goblin, who had hung his legs over the edge and was dabbling his feet in the water.
“What am I doing? Trying to overcome my fear of water.”
“And what if you happen to plop in?”
“You’ll catch me,” he said with a carefree grin.
I sat down beside him and started watching the opposite bank approaching slowly but surely. In the middle of the river there was a wind, and the ferry started swaying gently on waves that sprang up out of nowhere.
One of the horses snorted and started whinnying and trying to kick out a wooden partition with its hind hooves.
“Hold her! I’ve got problems enough already!” shouted the ferryman.
Uncle dashed across to reassure the frightened animal. The horse was snorting, rolling its eyes, and trembling. The sergeant’s gentle whispers gradually calmed it down, but it still squinted warily at the water.
The chain clanged, the water splashed, and the riverbank slowly drifted closer.
“Why are they running about like that?” Kli-Kli’s shout of surprise interrupted my contemplation of the black water.
Our comrades were dashing about on the bank, waving their arms and shouting something. They were definitely shouting to us, but at that distance the wind carried their words away, and I couldn’t make anything out.
“I don’t know,” I said, concerned. “Has something happened?”
“It doesn’t look like it…,” Kli-Kli said slowly.
Just then one of the elves drew his bow and shot an arrow in a steep arc in our direction.
“Has he lost his mind?” the jester hissed, watching the flight of the arrow.
“Keep your head down!” I snapped at him, but the arrow sliced through the air above the ferry and fell into the water behind us.
“Hey, what are they up to over there? Have they gone crazy?” Arnkh roared.
“Look! On the other bank!” the jester shouted as he raised his eyes from the water where the arrow had landed to the riverbank that we had recently left.
There was certainly something to look at, and the elf had been right to use such an unusual method of
