“Well, there’s the old dam up the river that way,” Mayor Rufous replied, doubtfully, after some thought. “It’s stood forever, though. We don’t know who built it; it was here when the village was first founded.” He waved in the general direction of “upriver.” “You’re welcome to look at it, but I doubt you’ll see anything.”

But Beyrn, who by this time was fidgeting with inactivity, saddled his mule himself and left immediately. Abi didn’t even give him a second thought; she and Padrick were too busy testing the first of their bridge platforms to make sure it could hold the weight of a wagon and horses without tipping as the wagon moved from one platform to the next.

That is, she didn’t think anything of it until Beyrn and Bret, who had gone with him, came pounding back, having somehow persuaded their hinnies to return at a gallop. Beyrn’s face was white as marble, and Abi, who was the first to see him, ran to him and grabbed his hinny’s bridle. He moved his mouth, but nothing came out.

She clapped her hand over his, which seemed frozen to the reins. “Deep breath,” she ordered, and he took one shuddering. “Another. Now what’s wrong.”

“Th-th-the d-d-d-dam,” he stuttered. “It’s failing!”

•   •   •

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Mayor Rufous said crossly, looking down at the runnel of brown, muddy water at the base of the dam. “It’s just a little leak. I’m sure we can patch it up with a few rocks.”

But Master Vance whirled, grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him, hard. “Listen to me, you blithering idiot!” he hissed. “It’s not ‘just a little leak! Beyrn’s right! That ‘little’ stream means that water has worked a channel all the way under that dam, creating an unstable area that could literally collapse at any moment!” he let the mayor go, and wiped his forehead with his sleep. “Dear Gods, man, how much water is backed up behind it?”

The mayor gulped, shocked. “I . . . don’t know. Acres . . .”

“We’ve got to lower the water level, Vance,” Padrick called from up on the hill that overlooked the dam. “And we’ve got to do it now. Otherwise a wall of water this high is going to roll down on the village and when it passes there won’t be a living creature left. And you all had better get up here now, just in case it decides to let go while you’re standing there.”

Vance shoved the mayor at the horses—they’d borrowed horses, because horses were a lot easier to coax into a gallop than the hinnies. “Go!” he shouted. “We need men with shovels and picks and we need them here now, if you want to save your village!”