“You always do this,” she said. “Palm wine doesn't make the
problems disappear.”
“Neither does water.”
“Water doesn't drag in more problems.”
“Then you have never drank water from a well near a latrine. But
don't worry, Bessem. I have learned my lesson. Maybe anyone would
learn a lesson when their palm wine seller wants them dead.”
“It could have been worse. He could have poisoned you.”
Deruk laughed in genuine amusement. “The Tegrut had been poisoning
me with that ash soup he called palm wine. Perhaps I should take his
place as a seller and show the tribes what good palm wine tastes
like.”
Bessem had to admit it was not the worse idea she had ever heard from
him. It could even keep him busy and bring in some cowries. “You do
not know the first thing about palm wine tapping,” she said
instead. “Except you mean to sell horse piss to the tribes.”
“Then it would still taste better than the Tegrut's, trust me.”
She frowned. “How would you what horse piss tastes like?”
“When I was twelve, I saw some older boys playing with a harmless
snake. They said it wouldn't bite.”
“And it bit you?”
“Of course. Don't look at me like that. It was excruciating and
they told me to drink horse piss to dull the pain. Now that I think
of it, a jar of piss just happened to be nearby and I don't think it
was a horse's either.”
“Now we know at least.”
“What do we know?”
“That I didn't learn my common sense from you.”
“There is still time,” he said with another stiff grin.
***
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