“Halt, halt, who goes there?” a muffled voice came from under the hand-hewn stone bridge, barely audible over the rushing of the rapid water.
Opi looked down at the card he had been issued at the travel office, hoping he didn’t mess this up, he really did need to be on his way. “I am a traveler, and I wish to cross the bridge.”
“If you seek to travel to the other side, you must pay the toll.”
Sighing, Opi reached into his pocket. “I have the toll: two sea shells, four shillings, and a fish.”
“Be on your way.”