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Althalus choked a bit over the price the tattooed man demanded for crossing the bridge, but he paid it, since he viewed it in the light of an investment.
    “That’s a fine-looking garment you’ve got there, friend,” the toll taker noted, looking with a certain envy at the wolf-eared tunic Althalus wore.
    “It keeps the weather off,” Althalus replied with a casual shrug.
    “Where did you come by it?”
    “Up in Hule,” Althalus replied. “I happened across this wolf, you see, and he was about to jump on me and tear out my throat so that he could have me for supper. Now, I’ve always sort of liked wolves—they sing so prettily—but I don’t like them well enough to provide supper for them. Particularly when I’m going to be the main course. Well, I happened to have this pair of bone dice with me, and I persuaded the wolf that it might be more interesting if we played dice to decide the matter instead of rolling around on the ground trying to rip each other apart. So we put up the stakes on the game and started rolling the dice.”
    “What stakes?” the bearded clansman asked.
    “My carcass and his skin, of course.”
    The toll taker started to laugh.
    “Well—” Althalus began to expand the story. “—I just happen to be the best dice player in all the world—and we
were
playing with my dice, and I’ve spent a lot of time training those dice to do what I want them to do. Well, to cut this short, the wolf had a little run of bad luck, so I’m wearing his skin now, and he’s up there in the forest of Hule shivering in the cold because he’s running around naked.”
    The tattooed man laughed even harder.
    “Have you ever seen a naked wolf with goose bumps all over him?” Althalus asked, feigning a sympathetic expression. “Pitiful! I felt terribly sorry for him, of course, but a bet
is
a bet, after all, and he
did
lose. It wouldn’t have been ethical for me to give his skin back to him after I’d fairly won it, now would it?”
    The toll taker doubled over, howling with laughter.
    “I felt sort of sorry for the poor beast, and maybe just a little bit guilty about the whole business. I’ll be honest about it right here and now, friend. I
did
cheat the wolf a few times during our game, and just to make up for that I let him keep his tail—for decency’s sake, of course.”
    “Oh, that’s a rare story, friend!” The chortling toll taker said, clapping Althalus on the back with one meaty hand. “Gosti’s
got
to hear this one!” And he insisted on accompanying Althalus across the rickety bridge, through the shabby village of log-walled and thatch-roofed huts, and on up to the imposing log fort that overlooked the village and the bridge that crossed the foaming river.
    They entered the fort and proceeded into the smoky main hall. Althalus had visited many of the clan halls in the highlands of Arum, so he was familiar with these people’s relaxed approach to neatness, but Gosti’s hall elevated untidiness to an art form. Like most clan halls, this one had a dirt floor with a fire pit in the center. The floor was covered with rushes, but the rushes appeared not to have been changed for a dozen years or so. Old bones and assorted other kinds of garbage rotted in the corners, and hounds—and pigs—dozed here and there. It was the first time Althalus had ever encountered pigs as house pets. There was a rough-hewn table across the front of the hall, and seated at that table stuffing food into his mouth with both hands sat the fattest man Althalus had ever seen. There could be no question about the man’s identity, since Gosti Big Belly came by his name honestly. He had piglike little eyes, and his pendulous lower lip hung down farther than his chin. A full haunch of roasted pork lay on the greasy table in front of him, and he was ripping great chunks of meat from that haunch and stuffing them into his mouth. Just behind him stood a huge man with hard, unfriendly eyes.
    “Are we disturbing him