Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,30

feet above the center of the landing. Here the beams connected to a long metal tube, and through this ran the thick rope that guided the ferry back and forth. A large gear showed on each side of the tube, its notches reaching in through slits along the tube’s side. A crank on the deck turned a series of gears leading to these two, which in turn caught the knots on the rope and pulled the ferry along the taut cord’s length. The beauty of the system was that, because of the marvelous dwarven gearing, a single strong man could pull the ferry even if it was heavily laden.

But still the crossing was always dangerous. The water this day, as every day, showed white tips on its bouncing waves and abundant rocks, especially near to Diamondgate, where the ferries could dock if they encountered any trouble.

One of the barges was always inoperable, taken down so that its guide rope could be replaced, or when its floor planking needed shoring up. Several dozen men worked long days at Diamondgate just to keep the place in operation.

“They are planning to shut down that one,” Luthien, familiar with the operation, informed Oliver, pointing to the barge on the north. “And it seems as if the other is about to leave. We must hurry, or wait perhaps hours for the next barge to cross over.” He gave a ticking sound to Riverdancer, and the horse started down the path leading to the landings.

A few minutes later, Threadbare pranced up alongside and Oliver grabbed Luthien’s arm, indicating that he should slow the pace.

“But the ferry—” Luthien started to protest.

“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 passage 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 bungholes?” 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 assured him. “And do kick a barrel into the water if you get the chance as you pass!”

Luthien felt his adrenaline building, felt the same tingling and butterflies 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