The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 13:

Letters from Home

The tension Moth had stirred up in the wash house died out soon enough – Katy and Moth did not speak to each other and kept to their corners.

It was a Sunday at last. Moth looked forward to that day more and more as the one mornig she could sleep in, with the feeble hope that laying down longer would work the knots out of her neck.

When she did wake up, Moth laid in bed and enjoyed not having to rush into her clothes, or rush anywhere at all – she stared at the ceiling and stretched, hearing her cousins below clunk through the paper-thin house.

Almost drifting off again, Moth roused herself when she heard the front door downstairs slam, and then the slow patter of footsteps up all the stairs, until there was a rap on her door.

“Moth are you awake?” Tully’s voice came through. “You got a letter.”

Jumping from her bed, Moth threw open the door and said excitedly, “Who is it from?”

“I-”

Moth grabbed it and flipped it around. Priscilla Tunhofe. “It’s from Pris!”

“I saw-”

“Shh,” Moth said, opening the letter and hurrying to the window for the light.

Tully spread out on the bed, hands crossed behind her head.

Inside the envelope were several letters, one from Ursula, Ama, their mother, and Grandpa Clem. Moth grabbed up Ursula’s letter first and read it ravenously,

smiling and chuckling and saying, “She got the ribbon, and she loves it. She says the hired hand we had has moved on to find work in another county and she’s furious about it, as she’s very bored now, but Mrs. Tunhofe has given her a new dress pattern she’s excited to try out – the pattern is from Magden.”

“It’ll be fashionable then,” said Tully, and waited for Moth to continue but she put it to the side. “Is that all she wrote? Good heavens she is single-minded – I suppose that’s all the news that mattered to her.”

Moth opened her mother’s letter, nodding seriously, but bouncing on the balls of her feet. “She’s giving me reports on the expenses and sales, how the calving has gone, and how much of the ground we can still till. She says the money is a great help, Tully.”

“Don’t look at me like I gave it to you.”

Moth ripped open Priscilla’s next. It was reports on how everyone was doing; illnesses, recovery, milestones and-

“Oh.”

Tully opened her eyes. “What.”

“Japh has asked Patri to marry him.”

Sitting up, Tully scrunched her face, trying to remember. “Was she at the Offering? Which one’s she?”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Ah, you don’t like her.”

Moth ignored her, reading on. “Pris said that the Tine’s farm was completely destroyed in the fire. They moved to another region, Urimass, where they have some family. Japh asked Patri to stay and marry him.”

“Aw,” said Tully, before correcting herself. “That cow.”

Moth pressed her lips together. “He’s asked her before, but she always said no. Now that she has nothing, she says yes.”

Tully gave a little shake of her head. “If I had nothing, I’d say yes to any marriage if I thought it’d let me keep my home. Hiren is her home, right?”

“Yes.” Moth stared out the window for a while, lost in thought. She felt a numb, prickling sensation along her spine, as though she were falling, and she could hear the rush of water under her. Steadying her trembling hands, Moth cleared he throat and said, “She says I have a cousin in Magden who I should visit – her name is Lander – and she mentioned she made Ama write a letter.”

“I’m thrilled. What has my dearest said?”

Smiling, Moth ripped open the envelope marked ‘Ama’ and flipped open the small letter.

Dear Moth;

I miss you.

Ama

Moth read the words like a punch.

“Is she still mad at you? Oh, no she’s mad at me and its full of death threats.”

Folding it, Moth said, “No she…I shouldn’t read it to you, she meant it only for me.”

Tully looked horrified. “Don’t tell me she’s no longer angry? That’s no fun. Ah, I should write her a letter – she’d never respond, I know, but I can hope. Is that all of them, then?”

Moth glanced at the letter from her grandfather and said, “All I want to read out loud.”

“Well I can tell when I’m neither wanted or loved. I’ll go pester Salvia, she’s cooking and she’ll hate that.”

After Tully bounced off downstairs, Moth held the letter from Clem in her hands, and moved from the window to sit on her bed. She opened the envelope and read.

Dear Meremoth

I miss you. I’m glad you’ve gone, and are on adventures in the city, I’m glad you’re safe and you feel happy about your job and you’re able to feel the strength of earning a wage and helping us, and I miss you every day, every time I stop for a moment to breath, I miss you.

But if this letter was just about how I missed you, I could sum it up with just a few words and leave it there – so instead I’ll tell you what I know you’d want to hear, even if it’s unpleasant.

You know the Tines farm was destroyed in the fire due to the negligence of the Agricultural Sentries. Promising recompense for every square foot that was destroyed, the Agricultural Sentry paid for the seed planted but not for the lost crops, forcing the Tine’s to sell the property.

They sold it to the KCAC, for next to nothing. It’d been in the Tine’s family for generations and was the source of their wealth. Perhaps the best piece of property in Hiren.

The KCAC own it now, through the negligence of the Sentries who work for them. Was it negligence, Moth? I have not voiced this worrying thought to anyone but you. The farmers here have come to trust me so much and it alarms me; if I spoke this thought out loud to them it would be, on my part, an act of pure violence.

• An additional piece of news I got last night after I wrote the previous paragraph.

Now needing farmers to farm the remaining acres of useable land, the KCAC has been training and placing their Sentries on the farms to tend it – those that excel the most are rewarded with property.

I am horrified. The animosity between the farmers and the sentries is getting to a point where I think it can only end in bloodshed. I am constantly calming our neighbors down and talking them out of their desire to get revenge on the sentries.

This year was not bad for fog bursts, but now the enemy in the heart of Hiren no longer seems to be the fog. Damage is being done to us that will not easily be repaired.

If we had only been ignored by Lord Ede.

I appreciated your last letter immensely, and the honest way you told me of how you are treated as a farmer from Hiren.

I worry that Magden has not yet been touched by price hikes of our produce. I feel the tension increasing all around, and yet I fear no one else sees where this could be headed.

If it gets bad in the city for you, please return home at once, please do not stay until it is too dangerous to travel alone.

I’ve nothing more to say but that I miss you, again, and I will miss you tomorrow as well.

Love,

Your Grandfather