winterâs beaten him anâ that ainât him anyhow. This looks like his boat, right enough, so I guess youâve stole it anâ thatâs why youâs in such a hurry. Whereâs the money?â
âThis is
my
boat!â
Pappa stirred. âEat!â he said.
âPappa,â said Wull, âtell them who you are! Tell them youâre the Riverkeep!â
Kenesaw silently drew a foot-long knife from his waistband.
âEat, it that speaks! Eat! Now!â
âI can see you two must share some riveting conversation,â said Kenesaw languidly. âThe money?â
âThereâs no money,â said Wull, forcing his eyes not to flick to the cache of ducats in the bow.
Kenesaw sighed. âNow thatâs jusâ silly, ainât it?â he said wearily. âLittle runt like you, off in a big, stolen boat like this, maybe youâs done in the owners. Thatâs fineâwe ainât got no room to judge what a man musâ do. But you ainât goinâ to steal somethinâ like this without findinâ a liâl money, anâ you ainât goinâ to get far anyways without it, so why not jusâ tell us where it is, Wulliam, anâ this can be as easy as you like?â
The other bradai emerged from the shadow of their skiff and clambered aboard the bäta. Both had the fronds of bank fern sewn countlessly into their cloaks. Both carried short, darkened blades.
âThievinâ scum,â said Wull, dropping the oars.
An arm flashed toward him. At first Wull thought the man had slapped him, then he felt the wet spill of blood on his cheek. He bit off his glove and raised his handâfelt the heat of blood patter on the tips of his fingers.
âWhyâd you do that?â he said. The pain was starting to blossom.
âNo way weâs gettinâ cheeked by a stripling like you,â said Kenesaw, who hadnât moved. âReputations are what counts, anâ thatâs ours.â
âAaargh . . . a-attacking defenseless children?â said Wull. He felt his cheek swelling in a bright flash across his face, pulling the rest of his body toward it: hot and tight and hard.
âYouâs no child if youâs stealinâ a boat, long boy, anâ with a quick mouth like that, youâs not defenseless anyhow. Callinâ us scum! Weâs all cut by yer remark, ainât we, fellas?â
The other bradai, smells of dampness and bark pouring from their cloaks, were rummaging around the bäta, under the boards and stern, shifting Pappaâs legs around. Wull pulled at their fern fronds and tried to stand.
âLeave him alone!â he shouted.
âIt that speaks!â
âI told you,â said Wull, reaching for Pappa, the pain in his face almost blinding him, âwe donât have any money. . . .â
Behind him came the heavy sound of bagged coins on wood.
Kenesawâs face lit up. â
I
told
you
,â he said.
âYou canât,â said Wull, trying to push past them. âItâs all we have. . . .â
âYouâll jusâ have to steal more from someone else, long boy.â
Kenesaw pushed Wull into his seat as he stood, rocking the bäta and following the other bradai into the skiff.
âI didnât steal it! Itâs ours!â
âItâs ours now,â said Kenesaw. He tipped his cap. âTake care on your thievinâ journey. Gentlemen oâ the river, see?â
The skiff shot forward on its black oars, slicing its way into the night. Wull sat as it vanished, listening to the swell smack on the bätaâs hull and trying to push away the pain from his slashed face.
âIt that speaks! Eat now!â
Wull sighed and tightened his jaw. The blood from his cheek had run under his collar and was gathering in a sticky heat on his neck.
âAll right, Pappa. Here.â
He dropped to his knees
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