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."
After a short silence, Graym continued. "One of the
barrels dropped into Mirk River, leaving seven. After that,
we didn't lose a one - not in the Black Rain, not in the Dry
Lands, not in the swamps. We can be proud of that."
Jarek squared his shoulders. The Wolf brothers grinned,
exposing teeth best left hidden.
Graym went on. "And today we beat back a better-
trained force - "
"Any force would be better trained," Darll muttered.
"That's harsh, sir. We won through strategy - "
"Luck."
"Or luck, but not," Graym said sadly, "without
casualties. We smashed two barrels, a major loss." He
stared, brooding, into the fire.
Jarek counted on his fingers twice, then said proudly. "I
know! I know! That leaves six barrels - "
"Yes. Five full barrels," Graym said. He walked
unsteadily to the wagon. "And one other" He thumped it
three times, pausing to let it echo. "One . . . empty . . .
barrel."
The others ducked their heads, avoided his eyes. "It
leaked," Darll said, shrugging.
Graym rocked the barrel back and forth and ran his
hands around it. "Bone dry. No water marks, no foam
flecks."
"Ghosts." Jarek looked solemn.
Graym snorted. "Ever seen a drunk ghost?"
Since none of them had seen a ghost of any sort, drunk
or sober, they all shook their heads reluctantly.
"Might have been magic," Fenris said.
"True enough," Fanris said quickly.
Graym wiped the mud off the barrel end to expose a
second, cleverly hidden bunghole. He felt in the comer of
the wagon and pulled out a second tap
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