"You're a clever one, elf," the old man said with admiration in his voice.

"Please, call me Duder."

"All right, Duder. Though you don't look like you can row worth a damn, your company on a dark night might keep these tired eyes of mine from closing. But if you really want to go with me, you need to know that I'm setting out to catch the Blood Sea Monster."

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"So, you're one of those who doesn't believe it exists," he said without anger.

"I've heard stories," I admitted. "But that's all they are. Everyone knows that. Even kender."

"Just the same," the old man said doggedly, "it's the Blood Sea Monster that I intend to catch. Do you still want to go?"

I certainly didn't want to stay around to face Thick-Neck Nick. So, I bit my tongue to keep from laughing in his face again, and said, "Yes, I still want to go."

Before he could say another word, I started pushing his little fishing boat toward the lapping waves of the Blood Sea, hoping he wouldn't have second thoughts.

Suddenly, he called out to me, "Duder?"

"Yes?"

"You'll get two percent of my catch. And that's final."

I smiled to myself. I was going fishing!

I pulled the oars of the fishing boat until the shore began to shrink out of sight. But our progress was slow because the Blood Sea was still roiling from the storm.

I thought I might get sick from the boat's constant dips into the trough of every wave. Six-Finger must have seen my suffering, but a deal was a deal; he didn't take the oars from me. He offered only one consolation. "Don't worry," he said. "The water will calm down by dusk. It always does."

He was right. As the sun set into the Blood Sea, dazzling crimson lights sparkled on the now-smooth surface of the water. The sea was at peace. And, finally, so was my stomach. Not that there was anything in it, mind you.