By now the trio had reached the docks and set about finding the riverboat offices. They wandered down to one of the piers and asked a dockworker for directions. Once they knew where to go, the three found the office easily. It was a short, wooden building with faded, peeling blue paint. The sign above the door was a small mural of a riverboat. The door and windows stood open, but upon entering, they had to wait a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dimness. An old man with a worn face sat smoking a pipe as he shuffled through a stack of parchments on his desk.

“What ken I do fer ye?” the old man asked.

Tam took the lead. “Greetings, sir. We seek passage to Kaibain. Is there space available on any of the riverboats leaving in the next day or two?” he asked.

“This be all of ye?” asked the man out of the side of his mouth.

“Yes,” said Tam.

“And my horse,” Rezkin interjected.

Frisha glanced at Rezkin. “You have a horse?” she asked.

“How else would I have gotten to the city?” he remarked.

“Um … walked?” she said, her own voice filled with doubt.

Rezkin shook his head. “That would have been a long walk.” Frisha was about to ask where he was from when the old man interrupted.

“I ain’t got all day, now. Things ta do,” he griped. “There be a boat leavin’ in two days. Ye ken bring yer ’orse, but ye’ll be carin’ fer and cleanin’ up after ’im yerself. There be a stall onboard fer ’im. It’ll be two and a ’alf golds fer the each o’ ya an’ fer the ’orse.”

Frisha gasped. “So much?”

Tam stepped forward. “The two of us,”—he motioned to Rezkin—“can share a room.”

The old curmudgeon laughed, “Oh, ye be sharin’ a berth a’right. Ain’t got room fer each o’ ye ta be ’avin yer own. I’ve got one berth ’vailable ye be sharin’.

Anger suffused Frisha, and she huffed with disdain. “You expect me to share a room with two men!?”

The old man donned a crooked smile. “Ain’t no more wenches aboard. Might ’ave ta put more folk with ye if they be comin’ ’round, too.”

Rezkin had heard enough. He took two large strides forward to stand glaring down at the old man over his desk. The man bit his pipe as his smile fell. “We will pay one gold for each of us and forty silver for the horse. You will also receive another twenty-five silver to ensure that no one else shares our berth.

The old sailor scowled and said, “Now see ’ere, young man. I be givin’ ye a deal.”

Rezkin leaned over the desk, his hands on the hilts of his swords and said, “That is the deal. We both know you are trying to swindle these good people. I suggest you take my offer.”