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“They’re scavengers,” I answer. “They won’t bother us.”

Bartholomew looks as if he wants to disagree, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts aloud. Instead, he asks, “Why don’t they build a bridge across the river instead of relying on a barge?”

Simon answers, “I’ve heard the river is unpredictable. Past bridges have been swept away with heavy spring runoff.”

“And the High Vale elves decided not to rebuild to keep the aynauths out of lower Caldenbauer,” Hector adds, ambling over now that he’s distracted the goat. He’s a young man, not much older than Bartholomew, but he’s been on plenty of supply runs. “The monsters can’t swim.”

The mention of the beasts catches my attention.

“Aynauths?” Bartholomew asks, surprised. “I thought they were reclusive. Don’t they usually stay in the mountains?”

Simon answers, “Before the humans came into power, they migrated lower and caused all kinds of trouble. Rumor has it they’re on the move again.”

Bartholomew’s eyes go wide. “Why?”

Simon shrugs. “No one knows.”

“Stay with the wagons,” I command. “I’m going to speak with the dockhand.”

Leaving the group, glad for a moment alone to hear myself think, I enter the village of Riverwren.

“Afternoon, soldier,” a young woman says from the door of the local tavern, leaning on her broom. Her eyes wander to the badge and pennant on my arm, and her face lights with interest. Practically purring, she amends, “Or should I saycommander? Care for a rest? First drink’s on me.”

“Good day,” I return, politely ignoring her invitation. “Where would I locate the attendant who runs the barge tollhouse?”

“Luck is with you.” She nods her head toward the entrance. “He’s just inside.”

I pause, not entirely sure I believe her. With little choice, I give her a curt nod and walk up the old wooden steps.

“Trendleman,” the barmaid calls as she comes in behind me, her attention on the men at a full table. “Someone’s looking for you.”

The man in the middle of the bunch sits leaned back in his chair, with the two front legs off the ground. He appears to be close to my age, with a flop of blond hair and a lopsided hat, and he doesn’t bother to take his feet from the table to greet me. “You with the supply group? Listen, I just talked to your man. The captain’s not here. Consider yourself on holiday for the next few days.”

“The supplies are scheduled to arrive in Fortress Lintanry in a week’s time. It’s imperative we stay on schedule.”

With a knowing glance to his comrades, the man drops his feet and brings the legs of his chair back to the floor with a thud. “You’re new at this, aren’t you? All eager—I can spot your type. Now listen, I applaud your enthusiasm, but let me tell you, life is a lot easier if you just go with the flow.”

The men around him laugh, and I grit my teeth, grasping for patience.

“Take a load off,” Trendleman says. “The captain will return when he returns.”

“There’s no one else who can man the barge?” I demand.

The attendant extends his hands as he looks around the table. “I don’t even have a boat. Do you, boys?”

Laughing, the rivermen all shake their heads. They’re lying, obviously, but it’s not going to do me a lot of good to stand here arguing with them.

“How about that drink, handsome?” the barmaid says, coming to my side. “I promise I can make your wait more pleasant.”

Declining tightly, I leave the tavern.

“Did you find someone to take us across?” Bartholomew asks when I return.

“No,” I answer, trying, but likely failing, to hide my frustration. “We have no choice but to wait for the captain. Get comfortable—we might be here a while.”

* * *

Two days later,a boy walks into camp, announcing the captain has returned and we may begin the tedious crossing.