“Hunkapa be okay,” their massive companion assured him.
“Hunkapa always okay.” After mimicking his ponderous friend’s childish tone, Simna pointed out a spar splint floating on the floor of the wagon. “Sandbars are usually firm enough for walking, but I don’t want to step onto one made of silt and sink up to my neck. If I’m going to look like an idiot I want company. Hand me that length of good wood, Hunkapa.”
Obediently, Aub passed it across. Gripping it firmly in one hand, the swordsman threw a leg over the side of the nearly motionless wagon and thrust the length of lumber downward, anxious to see how far it would slide into the upper reaches of the sandbar. To his surprise and gratification, it didn’t sink at all. The gently convex surface was firm, yielding only very slightly to his exploratory prodding.
“There, you see?” He took some pleasure in being able to chide Ehomba. The soft-voiced, solemn-visaged herdsman was right so often it was beginning to grow irksome. “Easy walking. Get your stuff and let’s get out of here while we’re still afloat.”
Leaning around the mast, Hunkapa Aub tried to see into the murky water. “Is strong enough to hold me, Simna?”
“Sure! Here, see for yourself.” The swordsman thrust the wooden pole hard into the water.
Taking offense at this latest and most flagrant outrage, the sandbar promptly erupted in Simna’s face, drenching him with dun-colored water, decaying plant matter, and smatterings of the snails, freshwater crustaceans, and startled amphibians that had been living on its back. The swordsman was knocked down by the impact. Ehomba nearly went over backwards into the river, catching himself on the tiller only at the last moment, and Hunkapa Aub was knocked to his knees.