“Where do the others go?” Breister said.
“I don’t know where they all go,” Toshty answered. “I really only know the one that goes to the Rounds. I know that one also goes to the Estates of the Norder Wolves, but I don’t know which one. I just know the Norder Wolves maintain a sentry patrol boat on the Ocean of Dreams. They don’t like outsiders and want to keep creatures away from the route to their Estates.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Annie observed. “They’re fierce warriors. I’ve encountered their soldiers. They have legions stationed throughout the northern foothills of the Don’ot Stumb Mountains. You can’t move in that area without running into their scouts and picket lines. They’re a fearsome lot. No enemy would dare mess with their Battle Stallions and Club Wolves,” she concluded.
“What are they afraid of?” Breister asked. “There’s never been war that I’ve ever heard of,” he continued. “Who needs Battle Stallions and Club Wolves?” He looked at Annie. “There are some pesky bandits around that do some raiding and plundering, but you don’t need an army for that.”
“I hear rumors that we don’t see the half of it,” Toshty replied. “No one knows much about the Norder Wolves. They keep to themselves. But I hear stories that we only see the ranks of their army in training down this way. They use the peaceable frontier to train new recruits for their legions. It’s a mystery why they need an army. When I come through the Ocean of Dreams I just avoid messing with their sentry boat. That’s all I want, or need, to know about the Norder Wolves. If you know how to handle the sentries, you’ll be O.K. You don’t make them suspicious and they won’t bother you. They aren’t aggressive, but they are nasty as can be if they think you’re trying to enter their lands.”
“OK...” Breister said slowly. “So we just say, ‘Hello, and Good Day,’ to the nice little Club Wolves and go on, huh?”
“Oh, no,” Toshty said seriously, “we want to answer them precisely. There’s a certain pattern of response they expect. If you don’t know the words they want to hear, they know you’re a stranger. That makes them instantly suspicious. When we run into a sentry, let me do all the talking.” The Norder Wolf commander in the Ocean of Dreams is a Colonel Snart—he’s nicknamed ‘Scream-seller Snart’ because they say he’s got a sideline in smuggling and slaving. If we encounter a Norder Wolf patrol boat, say nothing and let me handle it. Hope they won’t take us to Commander Snart. If we go to him, no one will see us again. We’ll be sold as slaves and that will be the end of us.”
“Well, thanks, Toshty,” Annie said, with a wry smile, “you’ve invited us on such a pleasant little voyage!”
“Oh, don’t mention it,” Toshty replied. “I’ve made this trip dozens of times. It’s not bad if you know the way.” Breister and Annie shook their heads, hoping that this crazy old Owl did, indeed, know the way.
“Here,” Toshty said, offering the remaining honeycomb and cave bird eggs. “This is the last chance we have to eat until the Ocean of Dreams. The ride is too wild for eating until then.”
Breister and Annie both declined. “I have a feeling that a full stomach wouldn’t be full very long on this trip,” Breister grinned.
“I think I’ll fast, thanks.” Annie agreed.
“Well, O.K.,” Toshty responded. “If you insist, I’ll be glad to eat your provisions!” He stuffed his mouth happily, smearing honey and egg yolk all over his cheeks in his gleeful snacking. “You’ll feel more like eating next trip,” Toshty said, as if such a promise would make his friends happier.
“One trip at a time, Toshty,” Annie replied. “One trip at a time.”
When Toshty had finished eating, the three friends walked the rest of the way to the ledge overlooking the river. They unrolled the bladder-canoe and took turns blowing to inflate it for use. Then they securely stowed all their gear, tying it down in well oiled satchels to keep things dry. Toshty connected the launch rope to a special pulley he had rigged up, directing his friends to put in their earplugs and position themselves in the boat.
“Here we go!” Toshty signaled, beginning to pull on the rope. Pulling together, the canoe inched toward the edge of the ledge. One pull. Two pulls. Three pulls. On the seventh pull, the boat fell free of the ledge and plummeted 20 or 30 feet to the river below. SPLOOOSH! ZING! They were off!