Passage - Lois McMaster Bujold [114]
Berry bit her lip but, not wishful to waste daylight, rattled off her questions without any comment on the unusual headgear. Regrettably, the goods-clerk knew of no local river-rat wanting to hire on for a downriver hitch as sweep-man, nor had he any memory of the Clearcreek Briar Rose stopping here last fall, although he did remember a couple of the Tripoint boats from Cutter’s list in the spring. Fawn made a few little purchases for the Fetch’s larder, and Whit sold one crate of window glass.
As they finished settling up and turned to go, Barr abruptly turned back.
“Mister,” he said to the clerk, pointing at the iron hat, “where did you get the idea for that?”
The clerk smiled at him triumphantly. “Wouldn’t you like to know, eh, Lakewalker?”
“Because it doesn’t do a blighted thing. It was a joke got up on some flatties stuck up above Pearl Riffle a few weeks back, and they bought it. We laughed at them.”
Some flatties, obviously, who had made it downriver this far ahead of the Fetch, Fawn realized. She stuffed her fist in her mouth and watched in fascination.
“Yep, I just bet you’d like to trick me into taking this off, wouldn’t you, young fellow?” said the clerk in growing satisfaction. “Laugh away. We’ll see who laughs last.”
“What, I haven’t tried to buy anything off you! Or sell anything, either.”
“Yet.” The clerk nodded, then reached up to adjust the slipping pot more firmly. “And nor will you.”
Barr’s hands spread in a frustrated plea. “Look, I know it was a joke because I made it up myself!”
The clerk sat back, eyes narrowing shrewdly. “You would say that, aye.”
“No, really! This is crazy. Groundsense sees right through a bitty thing like that. An iron hat doesn’t do anything. It was just a joke! I made it up—”
Berry gave Dag a significant look; Dag reached out and gripped Barr’s shoulder. “Come along now, Barr, and stop arguing with this fellow. Boss Berry wants to cast off.”
“But it’s—but he’s—”
Remo helped propel his partner through the door and down the muddy slope. Barr skidded to a halt and tried to turn back. “It was a joke, I made it up…”
Dag sighed. “If you want to stay here and argue with that fellow, I’m sure we can offload your boat and gear. Me, I predict we’re going to be seeing pots on people’s heads up and down the Grace and the Gray for the next hundred years, so we might as well get used to it. Or for as long as folks are afraid of Lakewalkers and ignorant about our groundwork.” He hesitated, looking down the sodden, dreary valley in a considering way. “Though I suppose if it made people feel safer, it might could be a good thing…no, likely not.” He shook his head and trudged on.
“It’s not my doing,” said Barr plaintively, head still cranked over his shoulder even as he stumbled in Dag’s wake.
“Yes, it is,” said Remo irately, blended in chorus with Fawn’s “Whose else would it be?” and Dag’s reasonable drawl, “Sure it is. Might not be your intention, but it was certainly your doing. Live and learn, patroller.”
Barr’s lips thinned, but he finally shut up. Except Fawn heard him mutter, as he stepped aboard the Fetch once more, “I made it up…”
The next morning at breakfast, Barr’s campaign upon Remo was temporarily silenced when the entire crew of the Fetch united in telling him to pipe down or prepare to go swimming. It didn’t quite cure the problem, because Barr took to staring instead: imploringly, or angrily, or meaningfully. Remo gritted his teeth and attempted to ignore him. Fawn had no idea what-all the pair were doing with their grounds and groundsenses, but would not have been the least surprised had Remo burst out, just like her brothers when they’d driven their beleaguered parents into threats of a whipping if silence did not ensue, Boss! Dag! He’s lookin’ at me! Make him stop lookin’ at me! Barr watched the shoreline slipping past and glowered harder.
Fawn herself took to sewing, spinning, and unambitious cooking, hugging the hearth. Her monthly had begun last night, and she dared to hope that Dag’s new treatments were helping her to heal, because today