The Magic Of Krynn Read Free Page B

raw fish before, so I asked, “Do you
     mind if I use your line and see what I can catch? After all,” I reminded him, “I get a
     percentage of your take.”
    He shrugged his shoulders. “If you're going to fish,” he said gruffly, “give me the oars.”
     Six-Finger heaved on the wooden oars, turning his head away from me as he stared out into
     the gathering twilight.
    My line splashed into the red water, trailing behind the boat as we moved farther out to
     sea. I closed my eyes, enjoying the steady, rhythmic movement of the old man's rowing.
    This is a good way to live, I thought. Someone to row for me, and dinner just waiting to
     be caught. But then, as always, I started dreaming of more: I'd have a whole fleet of
     fishing boats with scores of old men bringing in a huge catch every day. I'd be generous
     and give them ten percent of the profits. Then I stopped and thought, no, I'd give them
     just two percent.
    I smiled to myself and sighed with satisfaction.
    I'd be known as Duder, Captain of the Blood Sea. And I'd be the richest elf in the world.
     The other elves would envy me. They would be sorry they had treated me so badly. I had
     been expelled from my homeland;
    punished for a youthful indiscretion; shunned, made to travel all alone-oh, how I hated
     being by myself. But when the elves needed my fish, needed my money, needed my power and
     influence .. . they'd come to me then and say, “Duder Basillart, we're sorry. Come home.”
     And I would just grin and tell them-
    “Ouch!” The fishing line was nearly torn out of my hands. My eyes opened wide as I
     clutched at the line, thinking that though my reverie had come to an end, my dinner was
     just about to begin.
    “Looks like you've got something big,” said the old man as he watched me pull on the line.
    “I told you I'd be good to have along,” I boasted. “This fish will bring in plenty of
     money. Don't forget,” I added, “I get two percent!”
    “I remember.”
    Hand over hand, I pulled on the line. I was counting my money even before my catch broke
     the surface. But when it did, I stopped my efforts. I had caught a dead man.
    “I'm not surprised,” said Six-Finger after he helped me haul a drowned sailor up onto the
     lip of the boat.
    “You're not?” I asked, astonished. “Do you catch dead men on your line every day?”
    His ancient face showed little emotion. “There is an old folk tale about storms on these
     waters,” he said. "Whenever there's a storm, you can be sure that a ship has been sucked
     down into the
    whirlpool at the center of the Blood Sea." I shivered at the thought; in my lonely travels
     I had seen so
    many storms blow across these waves. “Too bad our fishing expedition had to end like
     this,” I said
    sadly, figuring that we would head back to shore with the body. “Don't be silly,” said the
     old man. And with that, he cut the line
    and let the dead man splash back down into the water. “What are you doing?” I cried. “The
     proper place to bury a sailor is at sea,” he calmly
    explained. “Besides, there is the one fish I've been after all of my life. Tonight,
     perhaps, I'll finally catch that creature.”
    It was only then, as I watched the body float away from the boat, that I fully realized
     the old man's desperation. He was tired- worn out-and he knew he wouldn't have many more
     chances to catch his fabled Blood Sea Monster.
    Six-Finger didn't look back as the sailor's body sunk below the waves.
    It wasn't long after I picked up the oars and began to row that I saw wreckage floating
     nearby from the dead sailor's ship. Cracked and broken pieces of wood were strewn about
     the water. And then I saw a plaque that must have been part of the ship's bow. In the
     fading light I read the words, THE PERECHON. And then the plaque tumbled away on a wave
     and disappeared.
    Was it a big ship? Had a great many sailors died? I would never know. To me, it was just