Passage - Lois McMaster Bujold [69]
This resulted in a lot of munching around the crowded foldout kitchen table, and not much talk at first that wasn’t requests to pass things, although most everyone shot curious peeks at Remo. Berry was bland about the uninvited guest. Bo was either hungover, or indifferent. Hod seemed intimidated, with lots of looks Dag’s way as if for reassurance. Whit was wary—Remo was both older and bigger than he was, as well as being a full-fledged patroller. Hawthorn had a baby raccoon, a prize from one of his coal-salvaging coins, and had no interest in anything else.
Fawn had to admit, the bright-eyed creature was wildly cute. Hawthorn was trying to keep it in his shirt, with limited success; Whit observed that he should have bought a baby possum for that. Bo said raccoons were destructive, and if Hawthorn didn’t keep his pet under control, Bo would make it into a hat.
“Now, Bo,” said Berry, cutting across Hawthorn’s hot protests. “Could be worse. Remember Buckthorn’s bear cub?”
Bo wheezed a laugh, and gave over harassing Hawthorn. Hawthorn, Whit, and Hod then fell into a debate about what to name the kit. Dag said little, but Fawn spotted him slipping the curious animal a fragment of bread.
Remo didn’t attempt to join the talk. He was medium-tall, broad-shouldered; Dag called him a boy, but he looked like a full-grown man to Fawn. He was not good-looking so much as good-enough-looking, but was probably attractively healthy when he wasn’t recovering from a beating. His hair, dry and re-braided, hung halfway down his back. He finished cleaning his plate and looked up at last. “So,” he said to Dag. “Did you decide? Can I come with you?”
Dag left off helping to spoil the raccoon kit and returned the look. “I don’t know. Can you?”
Remo frowned uncertainly.
Dag went on, “I’m not your patrol leader. More to the point, this isn’t my boat. I just work on it. If you want to arrange passage, you have to talk to the boat boss like anyone else.” He nodded across at Berry. Remo’s head turned to meet her rather ironic gaze, and he blinked.
Dag’s response seemed a bit unfeeling to Fawn, but maybe he had a reason. She waited for it to emerge.
Remo finally addressed Berry: “How do I arrange passage, then?”
“Well, you have to either buy it or work it. Everyone else here’s decided to work it.”
“How much to buy it?”
“How far are you going?”
“I…don’t know.” He glanced at Dag. “Graymouth, I guess.”
Berry named a sum of coins that made Remo’s face set. No deep purse here, it seemed. Fawn was unsurprised.
“And working?” said Remo.
“I don’t know. What can you do? I know you know narrow boats—I heard about the coal-boat boys you fellows pulled out of the Riffle. Can you man a flatboat sweep?”
“I once did it for a day. Barr took me venturing…” He broke off.
“Hm.” Berry glanced at Dag, who shrugged. “I didn’t expect to have one Lakewalker crewman, let alone two. So…how’s this. I’ll take you on trial as far as Silver Shoals. That’s my next stop. Papa and Alder were seen there last fall by some keeler friends, so I know they made it at least that far.”
Remo made an inquiring noise; Whit explained rather sternly about Berry’s quest. Remo looked a bit taken aback to be reminded that people besides himself could have serious troubles, and he squinted as if seeing Berry for the first time. Fawn imagined the view through the haze of his own misery was still a bit blurry.
“Be aware,” said Dag, with a hint of challenge in his voice, “that if you choose to work, from the time you set foot on the Fetch till the time you step off Boss Berry will be your patrol leader.”
Remo shrugged. “It’s just a flatboat. How hard can it be?”
Whit frowned on Berry’s behalf, but before he could wade in, a clunk from the back of the boat brought everyone’s head around.
“Log,” said Bo.
“Current’s moving better,” said Berry.