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The steward, holding quill and parchment, found
them moments after they boarded. The hunch-backed,
grumpy-looking human wore the same black wool, salt-
stained breeches he'd worn almost a week before, when
Tas and Woodrow had first booked passage on the ship.
He recognized them at once.
'You paid for your passage, then disappeared," he
said, his glance suspicious. "If you have enough coin to
be throwing it away, what are you doing sailing Balifor
Bay in a barrel?"
Tas shifted while he thought fast. "See, after we paid
for passage, a friend of ours came along and offered us
the use of his boat. We couldn't say no, could we? But we
didn't think it was right to ask for our money back from
you -- a deal's a deal, isn't it, Woodrow?" The human
nodded his blond head.
"Anyway, neither of us really knows how to sail a
boat, so we ran into a bit of trouble -- a hurricane, I
think -- lot's of wind, anyway. We escaped in the barrel
before the boat sank." Tas finished his story, out of
breath. That one had been a real test of his storytelling
skills.
The steward looked dubious, but he shrugged. "This
close to land, who cares why you're really here? You paid
for the whole ride, anyway. You may as well finish it out
with us."
"One more thing," injected Tas artlessly. "That man up
front," he pointed, "standing next to the anchor rope, is a
murderer. He should be arrested and turned over to the
constables in Port Balifor."
The steward was taken aback by the turn in the con-
versation, then at the claim
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