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"We can pay you!"
Goar's furry ears perked up, but he looked dubiously
at the pile of garbage. "I doubt you have anything we
would find of value." His attention was abruptly com-
manded by a tug on his arm from another of his crew.
Goar turned away from the barge again.
"Mr. Burrfoot," Woodrow whispered hoarsely, "I'm
not sure it was a good idea to promise them payment.
Remember, we paid for passage on the other ship, which,
after breakfast, leaves us with next to nothing."
"You shouldn't worry about things so much, Wood-
row," Tas said in that lecturing tone kender used so fre-
quently. "Something will come up. It always does."
"I don't know," Woodrow said slowly. "They don't
seem like the trusting type."
"Human and kender," Goar rumbled behind them. Tas
and Woodrow spun around. "My..." He seemed to be
searching for a word. "... my cook tells me that he de-
tects the scent of seasoned owlbear coming from your
boat. We would accept that in payment for delivering
you to the nearest port."
Tasslehoff and Woodrow were dumbstruck.
"However, if you are unwilling to relinquish such a
valuable item in exchange for your lives," Goar contin-
ued, "regrettably we would continue on our way."
"Take it!" kender and human cried in unison.
Minotaurs made incredible oarsmen, Tas concluded,
watching the strange bull-men pulling at their respective
oars. Driven by the cadence of their leader/coxswain,
their rhythm never faltered, their strength never flagged.
It was mesmerizing to watch, back and forth, back and
forth, corded muscles rippling in their thick arms and
necks
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