“I have two ideas,” she said. “First, we’ll help you build either a bridge out of a series of floating platforms you can haul out of the water when floods threaten or a simple ferry you can power with a single horse, ox or mule that will be large enough for a single wagon or several passengers and beasts. That will do for now, and when that is complete, we’ll leave you instructions on building a stone bridge.”

“But . . .” the mayor began to object.

“Don’t worry, we’ll give you instructions of a sort that the same people who build your houses can follow,” Padrick assured him. “You’re lucky the river is narrow at that point; we can give you a high-arched bridge that the flood-waters won’t touch.”

“But . . .” the mayor repeated, weakly.

“Of course, this means the bridge will be quite high compared to the roadbed,” Vance continued cheerfully. “But I’m sure someone in the village will have extra animals that can be hitched to any wagons temporarily to get them over the hump, as it were. You could even include that in the toll.”

“Ah,” the mayor said, brightening. “I see!”

“I’ll get the instruments from the wagon and start surveying the site first thing in the morning,” Abi volunteered. “I’m sure I can find good sites for both the floating bridge and the eventual stone bridge.”

“I’ll begin drafting plans for each floating platform,” said Padrick. “And for the ferry.”

“And you and I will work out how much material and manpower we’ll need for the floating bridge and the ferry, you can determine which you want, and once you’ve decided, you can begin,” Master Vance said cheerfully. “We’ll begin in the morning. Meanwhile, is there a good place for us to set up our camp?”

•   •   •

“I think you ran right over the top of poor mayor Rufous, Master Vance,” Jicks observed, as they sat down to an absolutely delicious supper provided by some of the local women. Abi had considered herself indifferent to food, but that had been before all these days of dried-meat stew, porridge, and not much else; by now the mere thought of a roast set her mouth watering.

And a roast was what had been delivered; a fine roasted leg of mutton, and fresh bread with butter, a spicy vegetable stew, and berry tarts.

“I’ve dealt with bureaucrats all of my life, my dear,” Vance replied. “They’re like a nervous horse. If you give them a chance to think, nine times out of ten they freeze, and the tenth time they balk. The only way to handle them is to rush them at and over the problem before they get a chance to get a good look at it.”