The Ferryman - Book 1

Arc 3 – Return to Hiren

The Best we Give to You

Chapter 21:

Home Again Hiren

It was a long ride on the train.

Moth rode alone with her pile of luggage. She worried every few hours that she would be identified as a tinner, until she would look down at her tinless shoes and felt strangely invisible – she could be a city goer visiting family in the southern regions, if she didn’t speak and reveal her accent.

She kept her head down, huddled in her corner and watching the landscape slide by, but she felt too vulnerable to fall asleep, so she kept herself awake by rereading letters from her family.

The day dragged, until Moth began recognizing the landscape turn from flattened plains – so flat it was as though a rolling pin had been pressed over the wrinkles – to the cut-out hillsides she had grown up with, terraced to make a ledge for crops to grow.

She was ashamed to be home, she was overjoyed to be in Hiren.

The train chuffed and groaned and screeched to a long slow stop. The moment it was finished moving, the passengers leapt to their feet and yanked down their luggage from overhead racks and rushed the doors.

Moth waited until the rush was over and gathered her luggage – tucking her carpet bag over her arm, her trunk in one hand, and her other bag’s handle looped over her arm – and dragged and tugged and huffed it off the train and onto the platform.

It smelled like spring. It had rained last night, and the world felt freshly washed.

Delighted with the rain, the grass had become bright green, and the moisture stull clung to their blades and glittered in the sun.

Everything was drunken green, and the sight of it made Moth intoxicated with love for her home, and she tried hard not to cry as it stretched out in rolling hills before her, calling her in.

Taking a shuddering breath, Moth scanned the sparse crowd to look for anyone she recognized to pick her up – she had gone before she received a letter from home, but she had given them instructions on when to get her.

She suddenly feared the letter had not gotten to them. It would be a different walk from the station to her home, than from Magden’s station to Tully’s house.

As she looked around for a family member, she stiffened – most people milling about on the station getting off from the passenger cars were sentries. They formed a wave of brass-buttons and shabby jackets - some still gathering luggage, and others milling about smoking, waiting to board the train.

Moth held still, trying hard not to breath, like a rabbit in a fox den. Taking careful, wobbly steps off the platform, she set off down the road with no idea where she was going, as long as she was away from the soldiers.

“Mere! Mere Hevwed.”

Moth turned around and saw a man jump off the platform and lope over. It took her a moment to recognize him.

“Feldar? How are you?” Moth asked..

“Clem sent me to pick you up,” he said, taking up her luggage and bringing it to his horse and trap.

Moth did not know Feldar Tine, but she did know her grandfather spoke well of him. She did like his stallion – Cobbler – and went to give his nose a scratch before climbing into the trap.

Securing her luggage firmly in place, Feldar jumped up on his seat next to her and urged Cobbler down the road.

He did not bother making any conversation, but Moth was curious and asked, “How are you parents?”

“They moved to Urimass,” he said, leaning back and idly holding the reins.

“You didn’t go with them?”

“I had invested in some acres away from the main property. It’s not been touched by fog or fire.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. I’m glad some acres in Hiren still belongs to a Tine,” said Moth.

Feldar turned his green eyes on her. “Why are you so serious?”

Moth wasn’t sure what he meant, but said, confused, “I’m always serious.”

“Hm.” He flicked the reins. “I supposed you’re like Clem, in that. No humor at all.”

Moth wondered what she had said that was bothering him. Clearing her throat, she said, “Thank you for driving me home. I suppose most of my family was too busy with planting to manage it.”

“No, they could have done it. Clem just knew the journey would be faster in a trap than in a cart – he wants you home before nightfall.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You said that already.”

Talking to him was like digging out a splinter. Taking a deep breath, Moth said as politely as she could, “I just mean, for doing this for free in planting season when you’d probably be working.”

“I’m not doing it for free. They gave you to me as a wife,” he said.

Moth crossed her arms and glared at the road ahead.

He nodded. “As fun as a tick.”

“I’d laugh at your joke if it was funny.”

“That’s a holy way of saying you’re a bore.”

Moth leaned over the side of the trap, wondering if she could just climb out and walk the rest of the way home. She really found it hard to talk to young men, and Feldar was worse than most.

“Most of your family is fun to be around, what happened with you?” he continued. “Your sisters are fun.”

Moth did not respond.

“Ursula’s great fun. Getting into too much fun now, though, saying she’s in love with a sentry.”

Gasping, Moth whirled around in her seat. “What?”

“No one sent you a letter? That says more than anything.”

“Who…who is it?”

“His name’s Brohm Ede – he’s a nephew of Lord Ede, so he got him a job as a sentry.”

Her head swirled. “Ede?”

“I know, it’s hilarious,” he said in his flat tone. It was moments like that, Moth could strongly see his resemblance to his sister Patri.

He’s my brother-in-law, Moth realized, and leaned back in her seat to steady herself. “Is Ursula…engaged?”

“Rumor is she tried to elope with Brohm but was caught by your Dad. Japh, Ira, and Nehem went to have a talk with Brohm, but he skipped counties to go visit his mother for a few weeks to let things calm down.” Feldar gave Moth a side-look, eyes bright, but face flat. “Ursula’s heartbroken.”

Moth had no words. As they turned off the dirt highway that led to the rural station, and headed into farm country, the hills turned from bright green into hills pockmarked with burns.

Nearby hills smoldered. The smell of old fire gritted the wind. Moth wrapped her shawl over her mouth and nose, her eyes watering from the ash, and counted the burn sites as they passed by.

In a year, it had doubled.

Curling her toes in her shoes, Moth closed her eyes, her stomach churning.

She felt a tap on her shoulder. Feldar prodded her with a canteen and said, “It’s going to be choked for near a mile.”

Moth took the canteen and drank. It was cold, weak, bitter black tea, with the strong flavor of Hiren’s water – drawn from a well, fed by a confined aquifer. She had not realized how much she missed the taste of that water.

Grateful, she gave him a small smile. “How’s Patri?”

“Who?” he asked.

Moth decided to not bother with conversation. She sipped on the water and closed her eyes to the heavy ash stirred up on the wind, breathing through the magpie weave of her shawl.

“Damn it.” Feldar tugged on the reins, and his horse whinnied and stopped.

Moth followed his gaze to see three sentries – one on a horse – gesturing for them to stop.

“Are you coming from the station?” asked a sentry.

Feldar leaned forward in his seat and eyed him. “Yes.”

“Do you have any produce on you?”

Smiling, Feldar said, “an apple or two, for the road. You’re hungry?”

The sentry, his face streaked with ash, glanced at the other two sentries and gestured to Moth’s luggage.

“What are you doing?” demanded Moth, as they took it off the back of the trap.

“Ma’am we’re going to have to make sure you don’t have any petrified produce,” said the sentry, as the other two opened it and searched through her clothes and belongings.

Unfazed, Feldar said, “Now how could she be bringing petrified produce down from the city?” They didn’t respond, but he continued, mostly to himself, “So some has gotten across this region’s boundary line? And into the city for sale?”

Fighting back an annoyed looked, the sentry said with a forced friendliness, “Well, sir, a breach has occurred.”

“Who would buy fruit turned to a rock?”

“It appears some consider it a novelty,” said the sentry, adding, “Sir.”

“And you assume this breach was done by farmers and not any number of unsupervised sentries?”

His stapled on smile crinkled deeper into his face, just as the other two finished searching Moth’s luggage, packed it up, and placed it back onto the trap.

They all three gave a strained bow and said, “Thank you for your patience.”

Feldar raised his eyebrows at them as they departed, looking thoughtful, and urged Cobbler on down the road.

“Why were they…” Moth faltered with her words. “They were so polite, I think.”

“A few months ago they were not so courteous with their searches. Apparently, they searched through one woman’s luggage and threw it around, but she happened to be the aged governess of a royal. She was coming down to Hiren to pay her respects on Tiding Range and buy a magpie carving or two. Well, she complained to the royal she used to teach, and he was very vicious with the Commander of the Sentries.”

“And now they have to sir and ma’am while they do this search?”

“Isn’t it interesting how we can complain all we like, but one governess gets her muslin upturned and it finally changes?” Feldar said, smiling wide. “Commander Unagen was replaced with a Commander Wanhall, who is more trained and sociable then his predecessor. He’s forcing the value of a sentry as a ‘watchman and protector of the agricultural world – a servant to farmers.’”

“Has that improved anything?”

“On a surface level. Underneath, all the sentries are angry with Wanhall. Its good for the KCAC to have Wanhall though – even if the average person in the cities are on the side of the Sentries, they still don’t want anyone looking too closely at what they’re doing. They would rather be invisible, and Wanhall could calm a lot of storms with his manners.” Feldar nodded. His angular face and clear skin made him so pleasant to look at, as he said in his soft voice, “He’s a gentleman – but I won’t mourn him when he’s killed by his own men.”

Neither of them felt compelled to keep the conversation going, so Moth settled into her thoughts and looked at the ravaged countryside crawl by. It was hours before they turned off the highway and into the backroads, full of ruts and dips that was softened enough by the earlier rain to make Cobbler strain to drag the trap through.

Moth clutched the edge of her shawl to keep her hands from jittering. She recognized the hills that passed by, the trees and the creeks. It was home. She could smell her mother’s apron and her father’s shaving soap. Who would be in from the fields when she got there? Who would she see first?

As they went, they came across that perfect stretch of farmland, the Tine’s farm. It had recovered from its uncontrolled burn, and its fields were rich with produce, with a few dark patches of carefully burned acres.

Feldar watched it as he drove by, his eyes narrow, looking sharply at the house he had grown up in. It was a large stone building with painted shutters and dozens

of glass windows – a mansion. He stared at it for a moment, and then turned his unaltered expression towards the road.

It was a long quiet stretch, and the sun began to lower into the eastern field, when at last they came onto Hevwed property from a side road, and Feldar drove Moth to Grandpa Clem’s house.

Moth expected to go straight to the main house, and felt unprepared. She shakily stepped down from the trap as Feldar unceremoniously dropped her luggage out of the back and drove away without even a nod.

She looked down at her luggage, piled on top of itself, and wondered if she was moving into her grandpa’s house or the main house.

“Moth!”

Looking up, she saw Clem standing in the door, his thin fingers clutching on the frame. He pushed himself from the house, leaning on a cane, and hurried forward with tears in his eyes. Moth slid into his arms and felt his rib cage under her hug and the heartbeat against her ear.

“Welcome home,” he said. His breathing – the slow rise and fall – surrounded her. “Welcome home, Moth. I missed you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Closing her eyes, Moth let go of a pent-up breath and hugged onto Clem tighter, the buttons of his shirt pressed into her cheek, and she wanted to say something, but felt she didn’t have the words for anything worth saying.

“I asked Feldar to drop you off here. I’m selfish, I wanted to see you first and look in your face. We should head to the main house, now.”

Nodding, Moth said, her voice cracking, “Alright. I’ll drop my luggage in the foyer first.”

“Well, leave it near the door so someone can carry it over,” said Clem, turning his eyes upon the little house.

Stunned, Moth tried not to feel hurt that she wasn’t going to stay with him. In a daze she went to the foyer to drop off her luggage, but as she walked in, she felt a dusty, chill air rush through the house and out the door.

No coats hung on the hooks, or rugs on the floor. The trunk next to the staircase – one Moth had slammed her shin on at least once a year, going around the corner too fast – was entirely gone, with only the scratches its feet had made on the wood floor to remember it by.

When she was young, Moth had often found snail shells with no occupants, or a wasp nest dried up in the sun. She had seen abandoned dens, with pawprints only leading out, and she had found birds nests fallen from trees, and burst caccoons.

The look of them had filled her with homesickness on their behalf.

She clutched the doorknob and shut it behind her with a long creak, then took Grandpa Clem’s arm.

The path they had often took together was overgrown with prairie grass. Moth could see the faint groove that Clem had made on his way to the house to wait for her.

“When did you leave the house?” she murmured.

“About a month after you left.” Clem squeezed her hand. “I began to feel…foolish. Your parents were kind to let me live in that house all these years, taking the trouble to bring me firewood and food. My father and grandfather built that house, old though it is I felt proud to stand under a roof they had made, and it’s

that house I brought Win into as my wife, and we raised our babies in. It’s a good house, and can I still see Win sitting on the doorstep whittling, if I squint just right and the sun is low.” Clem’s voice trailed off and he leaned heavy on his cane. “But it’s becoming too hard to live with just Ama – I’m grateful my son let me live with my ghosts a little longer, but now it’s time for me to stay in the main house.”

“You didn’t walk here alone, did you?” demanded Moth. “You shouldn’t do that just to see me.”

He smiled. “Bullying me already, hm? Ama walked me here. I asked her if she wanted to welcome you home, but she ran into the fields.”

“Is she still mad at me for leaving?”

“She just doesn’t know where to put her emotions, so she shoves it deep into her pocket until its rots. She gets that from Win.”

Moth sighed.

Clem leaned heavy on her, and she clutched his arm and felt the bone underneath. It had only been a year since she had seen him last, but that year had eaten him away, the furrows on his brows were like tilled earth, and his eyes were weaker behind his glasses - she knew every moment he was not talking, he was thinking about how to respond to the farmers, to their families, and to the letters.

She wanted to tell him about Aunt Rena, and her soul trapped under the water, but she was afraid.

Barking distracted her, and she looked up to see Humala, Ora, and Aka run up from the house barking to greet Grandpa Clem. Laying on his side by the gate was Opo – Hilly had died a few years ago – and he wagged his graying tail and gave a soft woof.

Moth petted Opo’s old head and went with Clem into the kitchen as the three dogs herded them in with proud huffing.

Looking up from the kitchen table, Vade gasped and jumped up to Moth and hugged her, saying, “Oh, baby, I’m so glad you’re home.”

Heavy stomping announced her father hurrying through the door, and with a soft smile he hugged Moth as well. Between them both she thought her ribs would snap.

Priscilla shouted from the next room, “Is that Mere? Come into the parlor, I don’t want to get up again.”

Moth hurried into the parlor and saw Priscilla balancing a cup of tea on her large belly. She reached out an arm to Moth, and Moth slid next to her on the couch and hugged her.

“You cannot imagine how annoyed I am,” said Priscilla, trying to adjust her pillow to be more comfortable, and sighing in frustration. “I thought Ursula would send me into early labor with her madness. You have heard, haven’t you?”

“Brohm Ede.”

“Ede!” Priscilla laid her head on Moth’s shoulder and shouted, louder, “Ede!”

Vade put her hands on her hips and said, “Priscilla, the house just calmed down. Mere, baby, are you hungry? Dinner’s almost ready but I can get you something before then.”

“I’ll wait for dinner, Mama.”

Vade left, and Norwin came and kissed her head and headed back out to the fields, saying, “I’ll send Ira and Nehem in.”

When they left, Priscilla continued, “Thank God he had the good sense to leave. Let’s hope he never comes back.”

There were footsteps slamming through the hallway, and Ursula skidded into the room, here hair bouncing all around her face and her eyes red.

“Mere!” She sat on Moth’s lap and hugged her around the neck. “Mere, I missed you so much. You must have heard about this idiocy! You’ll be on my side, you’ll understand.”

Priscilla smacked Ursula’s shoulder. “Ursula I swear if you keep at this–”

“We are in love!”

“No you are not, don’t be absurd.”

Their arguing grew louder, just as Ira and Nehem clattered into the parlor with excited greetings.

Nehem picked Ursula up off of Moth, and then hefted her up into a hug. He was bigger even than their father, and his curly hair scraped the ceiling.

Ira immediately bombarded her with questions, his eyes bright behind his glasses. “How did the produce in town compare to here? Were you able to tell the differences in quality between the different regions when it arrived in the market?”

Moth tried to answer his questions, and soon Ursula and Pris stopped arguing to ask her questions about Magden and its many luxuries.

They chatted for two hours until dinner, and all convened into the dining room to eat and chat more, but Ama never showed up.

“Where is Ama?” Moth asked Priscilla.

“Who knows with her, anymore. She’s almost feral and Rodin encourages it. She might have walked to my house – she sleeps there most nights and runs around in the woods with her bow.”

Realizing, Moth said, “What about Japh and Patri?”

“Oh, I never told you.” Priscilla pushed her plate away and said, “Our neighbor was hit by the fog, but sold the property to Mrs. Tunhofe – she had some money put aside – and Rodin asked Japh to farm it with him. Japh and Patri live on that little piece of property now and are helping us. She means to give it to them as an anniversary present next year.”

“So Japh and Ama are at your house?”

“Mere, you should come home with me tonight and see everyone,” said Priscilla. “Camb misses you.”

Moth hesitated. She would not be needed here. She glanced toward the head of the table, where Clem sat - he and Ira were talking about the yields that year – and said to Priscilla, “If you don’t mind, I’d love to visit.”