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The barrel crashed onto a rock and bounced off, spraying
foam sideways before it came to rest, punctured end up.
Graym, unfortunately, came to rest on top of Jarek.
Darll, manacles clanging, pulled Graym to his feet.
"You all right?"
"Fine, sir, fine." Graym felt his ribs and arms for
breakage.
"Pity," Darll grunted. "What about you, boy?" He bent
down and helped Jarek up. "If you only hurt your head,
we're in luck."
Jarek wheezed and gasped.
"He'll be fine," Graym said, slapping Jarek's shoulder.
Jarek collapsed again, and Graym helped him up again.
"Probably do us both good. Exercise new muscles."
"Try thinking. That should exercise a new muscle for
you." Darll looked down at their feet. Foam was seeping
quickly into the ground. The smell of ale was
overpowering.
Graym followed his glance. "Only another loss," he
said cheerfully. "Crisis of transport, sir. Part of business."
He and Jarek limped over to the broken barrel.
Jarek, still wheezing, managed to say, "I'm sorry,
Graym. You said 'Stop pushing when I say now,' and that
was when you said 'now,' so then I thought you meant
'now.' "
"Don't you feel bad at all, boy." Graym looked at the
damp rock and the damp soil below it. "This'll drive the
price up when we reach Krinneor. Supply and demand."
He added, struck by it, "Makes the other kegs worth
more."
He finished, convinced, "Best thing that could happen,
really."
Graym shook Jarek's limp hand. "Thank you for upping
profits. A bold move - not one I'd have made - but worth it
in the long run
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