"We were lucky to find two", said Dunk. "The drought reached the Arbor, too. We heard the grapes are turning into raisins on the vines, and the ironmen have been pirating-"

"Ser?" Egg broke in. "The water's gone".

Dunk had been so intent on Bennis that he hadn't noticed. Beneath the warped wooden planks of the bridge only sand and stones remained. That's queer. The stream was running low when we left, but it was running.

Bennis laughed. He had two sorts of laughs. Sometimes he cackled like a chicken, and sometimes he brayed louder than Egg's mule. This was his chicken laugh. "Dried up while you was gone, I guess. A drought'll do that".

Dunk was dismayed. Well, I won't be soaking now. He swung down to the ground. What's going to happen to the crops? Half the wells in the Reach had gone dry, and all the rivers were running low, even the Blackwater Rush and the mighty Mander.

"Nasty stuff, water", Bennis said. "Drank some once, and it made me sick as a dog. Wine's better".

"Not for oats. Not for barleycorn. Not for carrots, onions, cabbages. Even grapes need water". Dunk shook his head. "How could it go dry so quick? We've only been six days".

"Wasn't much water in there to start with, Dunk. Time was, I could piss me bigger streams than this one".

"Not Dunk ", said Dunk. "I told you that". He wondered why he bothered. Bennis was a mean-mouthed man, and it pleased him to make mock. "I'm called Ser Duncan the Tall".

"By who? Your bald pup?" He looked at Egg and laughed his chicken laugh. "You're taller than when you did for Pennytree, but you still look a proper Dunk to me".