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"If you've been fishing for as long as you say," I said slyly,
"then you're not quite as young as you look."- Unlike most elves,
I can stretch the truth until it's almost ready to snap.-"But if
you're as old as you say, Mr. Fiske, " I continued, "then I'd be glad
to offer my rowing services to you for just the modest fee of ten
percent of your catch."
"You're a clever one, elf," the old man said with admiration in
his voice.
"Please, call me Duder."
"All right, Duder. Though you don't look like you can row
worth a damn, your company on a dark night might keep these
tired eyes of mine from closing. But if you really want to go with
me, you need to know that I'm setting out to catch the Blood Sea
Monster."
I couldn't help it. I laughed.
"So, you're one of those who doesn't believe it exists," he said
without anger.
"I've heard stories," I admitted. "But that's all they are.
Everyone knows that. Even kender."
"Just the same," the old man said doggedly, "it's the Blood Sea
Monster that I intend to catch. Do you still want to go?"
I certainly didn't want to stay around to face Thick-Neck Nick.
So, I bit my tongue to keep from laughing in his face again, and
said, "Yes, I still want to go."
Before he could say another word, I started pushing his little
fishing boat toward the lapping waves of the Blood Sea, hoping he
wouldn't have second thoughts.
Suddenly, he called out to me, "Duder?"
"Yes?"
"You'll get two percent of my catch
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