Malthas,
The elf chieftain nods.
"There is nothing more to speak of, if you wish to find your Kep-tan alive," he says, and strides towards the longboat.
Stout and Sanchez, uneasy at his approach, but seeing that he has no immediate violent intent, conduct him into the longboat as though the elf was an admiral boarding his flagship.
Malthas, Vemuz, Nicodemus,
The longboat, with Mr. Swifthand as coxswain and Vemuz Thrice-born steering, is guided into midstream and then, with Stout and Sanchez beating out a slow cadence with their oars, begins to crawl upriver, keeping pace with the shore party (and within musket-shot, in the event anything should go wrong on land).
Malthas again,
The elf chieftain sits in the stern sheets, facing the bow. For a long time, he sits motionless, gazing out over the river and occassionally glancing at the trackers, combing the river banks. The only sounds are the squeak of the oarlocks and the soft splashing of the oars.
With startling suddenness, he breaks the quiet.
"Your fellow who travels with trackers," he says. "You People from over the Sea keep his kind as slaves. I see with my own eyes. But he give orders to you, lead you and your companions. How is this?"
Jonah,
The brush rustles, and four Grugach, clad like the others in wolf-skins and barkcloth, step into the clearing.
They carry bows, but their bows are unstrung, and their arrows are all in their quivers. Silently, they lay them down in front of them. One of them at last steps forward.
"Now," he says in Elven, with a stern frown. "Now, we shall talk. I am called Mind-of-the-Mighty-River, for my people call me wise. What mean you by your trespassing under the boughs of our ancestor's trees, and how do you justify the blood on your hands?"
Captain McCrenshaw stands to one side, obviously uneasy at his inability to understand the language of these proceedings.
