Cheyne pulled the songmage back into the shadows, picked him up bodily, and dangled him by his collar out the only window in the lodge. "What do you mean, letting me throw with him? I could have lost my life to that big greenskin! And you would have lost your fee! Does this make any sense at all, Ogwater? Hmmm?"
Og hung onto Cheyne's arms for all he was worth. The mist had cleared and the ice in the river was clearly visible under the bright starlight. "I knew you would win!" he choked out. "There was no need to make you nervous. We need the water sapphire!"
"So that's it? You had a side bet? Ogwater!"
"It was the only way I could get Frijan to give it up. Selkies can't resist a game, you know, especially if you put something shiny in front of them. And as I just, ah, said, we need the water sapphire." Og looked down at the dark, cold water. He could already feel his feet tingling. "Someone has to heal these waters! We must have this stone."
"You must have this stone! 7 must get on to the forest as quickly as possible and stop letting you drag me into your old, unsettled intrigues."
"Uh-oh," said Ogwater, his attention diverted to the shoreline, where a mist-shrouded figure dropped a loose log into the river.
"What now?" asked Cheyne, tiring of his threat, and hauled Og back in through the window.
"We have company," moaned Og. He turned to Wiggulf, eyes blazing with desperation. "I'm sorry, Riverking. I have to go now!"
The songmage clutched the ajada and the water sapphire together in his hands and began to sing for all he was worth. Before Cheyne could reach him, he had disappeared in a swirl of light the color of fire.