Dann looked perplexed at the prostrate River head tribe. "I don't think so, Song. Wonder what a Leafwood is?"
Burble was only too willing to explain. "Do ye not know what a Leafwood is? Ah, 'tis a wunnerful thing, yiss yiss, so 'tis. D'Leafwood is carried only by the highest Chiefs an' greatest vole Warriors who live on the waters. Dippler, yore a water creature, shame on yer for not knowin' of the marvelous Leafwood. Why, meself has known of it since I was born, an' my father an' his father before him an' his father before him an' ..."
Burble caught the look in Song's eye as she raised her Leafwood. He went silent with a meek grin, but only after having the last word. "An' so on an' so on!"
The old gray watervole's voice trembled as he addressed Song. "Ah, a Leafwood could surely make the Riverhead tribe famed an' feared by all. We would give anythin' to be ownin' such a marvelous thing."
The young squirrel's reply was instant. "I would trade it for a good boat, sir."
The old one's face lit up with joy. "Now isn't that a wonderful thing t'be sayin', for 'tis meself who owns the greatest boat ever t'sail on water!"
Dippler gave Song a warning glance, then stepped in to take charge of the trade himself. "Let's take a look at yore boat first, sir. No offense given, I hope."
The gray vole's stomach wobbled as he chuckled. "Yiss yiss, an' none taken I'm sure, for who better t'look at a vessel than the grand Guosim himself? Foller me, young travelers."
Taking them out onto the bank, he passed a lantern to Dann. "Here now, great sword-bearer, hold on to that while I show y'me boat."
Pulling aside clumps of bog willow and saxifrage, the oldster heaved forth a type of oblong coracle, fashioned from osier boughs covered with rowan bark and held together by layers of pine resin. He tapped a paw alongside his snout, winking slyly. "Never leave boats moored out on water for allbeasts t'see, like the dreaded ould Marlfox an' his water rats who passed here t'day. Oh yiss yiss, it pays to keep yer boats hidden!"
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, covetous-ness 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.
"A true trade, though you do strike a turrible hard bargain, yiss yiss. That's a Riverhead Volechief's boat y've got there. Light as a feather, true as an arrow, an' faster than a brown trout, there's not a craft on any water that can keep up wid it, let alone try t'beat it. 'Tis sorry I am to part with yonder vessel!"
Dann whacked him heartily on the back. "But now you own the Leafwood, sir, the power is all yours!"
The vole did a little jig of delight. "Yiss yiss, so I do. Every good trade calls for a Comallyeh. So here goes." He raised his head and called in a loud piercing yell, "Comallyeeeeeeeh!"
Startled, the three companions jumped back, as water-voles materialized from seemingly everywhere, all crying aloud, "Comallyeeeeeeh!"
Dippler took their haversacks and tossed them into the boat. "Looks like we're invited to some kind o' celebration, pals!"
Later, the big cave on the bank was packed tight with watervoles, nearly every one of them holding either a little fiddle or a small pawdrum. Song and her friends sat by the fire spooning down thick delicious riverstew comprising cress, watershrimp, turnip, carrot, mushrooms and several other vegetables and herbs that they could not identify. Voles made sure that their beakers of honey and blackberry cordial were never empty. Soon every paw in the place was tapping to a lively jig, well played and heartily sung by the Riverhead tribe.
"Oh there's some fools take a bath each day,
By rollin' in the mornin' dew,
An' others who won't wash at all,
But that ain't me nor you.
Othersome take dry dust baths,
An' reckon that they're clean,
But if a watervole you be,
Well you know wot I mean.
Hoho, yiss yiss, ho hooooooo!
Don't sit'n'shiver beside the river,
Dive right in with a splosh,
Grab hold of a good ole soapwort root,
An' give yoreself a wash.
Scrub hard scrub soft scrub lively, mate,
Good health you'll never lack,
An' if yore paws can't reach around,
A fishll scrub yore back.
Hoho, yiss yiss, ho hoooooo!"
The ditty finished amid great merriment, with the old watervole acting as master of ceremonies, pointing the Leafwood at the three. "C'mon now, travelers, sing for yore supper!"
Dann flushed with embarrassment. "Singin' isn't a thing I do best. You have a go, Song."
Dippler helped himself to another bowl of stew. "Aye, yore a good singer, missie. If they 'ear my voice that ole feller's liable to cancel the bargain."
Song stood up and called out to the musicians, "D'you know the one called 'Green Rushes an' Lilies so Pale'?"
Several of the old volewives threw their rush aprons up over their faces, calling out warnings to the pretty young squirrel.
"Ah sure, don't try it, missie, 'tis too fast!"
"They'll leave yer verses behind, pretty maid, water-voles play speedy!"
Song took a sip of cordial to wet her lips. "Oh, they will, will they? Well, let's see 'em try. Ready, one, two, three!"
Watervole fiddles and drums started the music at a cracking pace. But Song was right up there with them, her sweet voice ringing out.
"Green rushes green rushes an' lilies so pale,
Pray sit ye down friend now an' list' to my tale,
For the rivers flow fast an' the mountains are tall,
An' across the wide moorlands the curlews do call,
Dirry wallaker williker doddle rum day!
Green rushes green rushes an' lilies so pale,