She scrambled over a lip of crumbling rock and came upon a dark pool, lapping at a crescent of flat stones, water hissing and splattering down into it over piled up rocks bearded with wet moss. A pair of twisted trees spread their branches out above, thin, fresh-budded leaves shimmering and rustling in the breeze. The sunlight sparkled, and insects skated and buzzed lazily on the rippling water.

A beautiful place, most likely, if you thought that way.

Ferro did not. 'Fish in there,' she murmured, licking her lips. A fish would be nice, stuck on a twig over a fire. The bits of horse they had carried with them were all gone, and she was hungry. She watched the vague shapes flicker under the shimmering water as she squatted down to fill up her canteen. Lots of fish. Ninefingers dumped his heavy pack and sat down on the rocks beside it, dragging his boots off. He rolled his trousers up above his knees. 'What are you doing, pink?'

He grinned at her. 'I'm going to tickle me some fish out of that pool.'

'With your hands? You got clever enough fingers for that?'

'I reckon you'd know.' She frowned at him but he only smiled the wider, skin creasing up round the corners of his eyes. 'Watch and learn, woman.' And he paddled out, bent over, lips pressed tight together with concentration, feeling gently around in the water.

'What's he up to?' Luthar dumped his pack down beside Ferro's and wiped his glistening face with the back of his hand.

'Fool thinks he can catch a fish.'

'What, with his hands?'

'Watch and learn, boy,' muttered Ninefingers. 'Aaaah…' His face broke out into a smile. 'And here she is.' The muscles in his forearm shifted as he worked his fingers under the water. 'Got it!' And he snatched his hand up in a shower of spray. Something flashed in the bright sun and he tossed it onto the bank beside them leaving a trail of dark wet spots on the dry stones. A fish, flipping and jumping.

'Hah hah!' cried Longfoot, stepping up beside them. 'Tricking fish out of the pool, is he? A most impressive and remarkable skill. I once met a man of the Thousand Isles who was reckoned the greatest fisherman in the Circle of the World. I do declare, he could sit upon the bank and sing, and the fish would jump into his lap. They would indeed!' He frowned to find no one delighted by his tale, but now Bayaz was dragging himself over the lip, almost on hands and knees. His apprentice appeared behind him, face set hard.