Ehomba had Hunkapa hold him high. “I think the wagon track stops before it reaches the bank. But there are not as many trees on the other side, and the land is more level than what we have just come through. We should be able to make use of this vehicle for a while longer yet.”
“Good,” the swordsman snapped. “I’m starting to wonder if maybe I haven’t done too much walking for too little reward these past several months.”
“Why Simna, are you starting to have second thoughts? What about the treasure?” From within sagging pleats of flesh the herdsman smiled at him.
“Hoy, what about the treasure?” The swordsman trimmed a line. “In all this time I’ve heard nothing about it from you, except when you chose to deny its existence. Now that things have turned troublesome, you tease me with it.” He stared hard at the flaccid figure. “When I wax enthusiastic on the subject, you claim it doesn’t exist. But if I express skepticism, you lose no opportunity to remind me of it.” His expression tightened.
“Don’t think to play me the fool, long bruther. If I decide that’s what you’re about, I’ll drop you like a year-old egg and vanish into the bush.”
Ehomba managed to shrug, a ripple that ran through his right shoulder like a small wave lapping repeatedly at a sand beach. “You are right, friend Simna. There is no treasure. It is only a trick to keep you with me, to buy your aid. I am ashamed before the elders of my village.” A limber, boneless hand fluttered in the swordsman’s direction. “Go now. Leave with your dignity still intact. I release you from your vows.”