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The group was moving now. Jogu had finished a long soliloquy about the Shrine of the Honest Trader in what appeared to have been an epic, emotional presentation accompanied with twirling motions. When Jogu's clients had failed to respond to his act--or to tip him as he stood there, arms raised as if he were a mighty taolun tree--he had shrugged his shoulders and kept walking. The strangers followed, one of them shaking his head.
At this point, Ten was positive that they were headed to the Tiller's Council. It was the only building of note in that direction. He smiled. Of course these wealthy strangers were here to see the powerful farmers' union, possibly to discuss trade or contracts. Merchants, perhaps? That would explain the voluminous cloaks worn across broad, well-fed bellies--and, if Ten was not mistaken, covering deep pockets and purses heavy with gold. Watching closely, he could see the way the dark cloth pulled across the travelers' waists. Yes. There was coin tucked underneath. His fingers twitched.
The group was crossing Fo Bridge when it happened. Nam Ironpaw the stockmaster had just arrived at the high point of the bridge with a cart stacked high with salmon. The wheel on one side had come loose, and as Nam waved to the approaching travelers, it suddenly bent under the heavy load. The burly grocer turned in shock, helpless as the overloaded cart tipped over and spilled the contents of a night's bounteous catch onto the bridge.
"No! No!" he shouted, whiskers shaking in a visual echo of his frustration.
A silvery, wet avalanche poured across the planks of the bridge, the raised balustrades funneling it directly toward a terrified Jogu and his charges. The poor jinyu, obviously still drunk, echoed Nam's shouts at the oncoming fish--"No! No!"--and tried to wave them off with desperate, imploring gestures. The dead salmon paid no heed.
With a moist smack, the group was buried. Ten grimaced at the thought--and smell--of being bathed in clammy fish. In another second the wave passed, the remaining salmon sliding off the sides of the bridge and into the stream below. The four pandaren merchants had crouched and grasped onto the planks to keep their footing, and were now helping each other back up. Jogu had been swept along with the fish into the water, where he failed to resurface. This was funnier than it was alarming--as a jinyu, the drunk was more at home there than on land. Shouts and laughter rang from the market as Nam's family and other villagers came running.
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