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. A scrawny, bald-headed, weak-armed man
with no more strength in him than in a dead dwarf's left - "
"You wouldn't have if you hadn't been drunk," Jarek
pointed out. He looked at Darll admiringly. "Single-handed,
and you beat them all. If you hadn't been drunk - "
Graym interrupted. "And I hope it serves to remind you,
sir, that ale is not only a blessing, but can also be a curse,
and not to be taken lightly." He downed the bowl of Skull-
Splitter. "Back to my story. I took you, sir, and the tenpiece
from the bailey - "
"Then we got the ale," Jarek said. "And the horses," Fen
and Fan said together. "Without paying for them," Darll
finished. "And I gathered victuals and water and spare
clothes and knapsacks, and off we set" - Graym pointed to
the east - "down the long, dangerous road! Facing
hardship! Facing hunger and thirst..." He broke off. "Not as
much thirst as I thought, apparently, but some thirst. Facing
the unknown! Facing a ruined world! And for what?" He
looked around at the watching faces. "I ask you, for what?"
Jarek blinked. "For Krinneor."
"True enough. For the golden spires, the marble towers,
the excellent drains, and the fortunes that made them. Think
of it!" Graym waved an arm unsteadily. "A city with all the
gold you can dream of, and nothing to drink. And us with a
cart full." He glanced to one side. "A cart HALF full of the
best ale left in the world!"
"Our fortunes are made. We can ask what we want for
it, and they'll pay twice what we ask
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