Song glanced down the fast nightdark river reaches. “So, they passed here. Where d’you think they went, sir?”

The oldster scratched his chubby cheeks and shrugged. “Hah! They could’ve bin sailin’ t’the moon for all I know, missie. Well, Guosim, wot d’ye think of me boat? A splendid craft, eh?”

Dippler had been inspecting the vessel, and now he said, “Oh, it’s not bad. Not good, but not bad, but seen too many seasons’ service on this river for my likin’, sir. Ah, here we are! This’s the boat fer us. My friend’ll trade the Leafwood for this ’un!”

The young shrew dragged forth another vessel, far newer than the first, which shone like a honey globule from the many coats of pine resin that had been melted down and applied to its sleek sides. Unlike the other, this craft had a proper pointed bow and butted stern, and patterns and symbols had been painted beneath the resin with colored dyes, giving it the look of a very special boat. The old water vole shook his head and waved his paws furiously.

“Ah no, ah no, y’can’t be havin’ dat one, sure an’ ’tis never the sort o’ boat you’d be goin’ after Marlfoxes with. No, me bold Guosim, I’m afraid I can’t be lettin’ y’have that one!”

Song twirled the Leafwood idly. Lantern light gleamed off the round, shiny green stone implanted at its end. She nodded to Dann and Dippler, and all three sauntered off, Dippler smiling back regretfully at the gray watervole. “Pity. We’ll just have to trade the Leafwood with some other tribe.”

The vole dodged in front of them, hopping back and forth to stop them wandering off. “Whoa now, young buckoes, I’ve got other boats y’know, yiss yiss, good ones too, let me show yer them!”

Song shook her head. Feigning boredom, she wagged the Leafwood under the old vole’s nose. “No, I’m sorry, sir, no other boat will do. That’s the one for us, same as this Leafwood is the thing you want. Here, hold it.”

The vole took hold of the object reverently, covetousness shining in his eyes at the symbol of power. Song judged the moment right.

“Now, d’you want to give it back to me so that when we’re gone you’ll never see it again? You look to me like a skilled creature, well able to build a boat, probably far finer than that one. What’s it to be?”

The gray watervole looked from the Leafwood to the boat, from the boat to the Leafwood and repeated the performance. “Ah, singe me whiskers an’ sink me tail . . . ’Tis a bargain done!” He threw banksoil in the air, stamped his footpaw down thrice and spat on his outstretched right paw. Spitting on their paws, the three friends shook heartily with him. He grinned ruefully.