The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 3:

Who to Serve?

Two years passed, and though the amount of fog increased, it was found mostly outside Hiren. More and more reports of fog was reported in the neighboring regions, but for two years, only one burst of fog was found in Hiren.

The early harvest had already resulted in farmers preparing for the Offering, and the days leading up to it were cheerful. Hiren had not been that cheerful about an Offering in years, and the highways were busy with men and women running from neighbor to neighbor in preparation for the decorations and food.

Moth and Clem were staying at the main house to help with the thousands of little tasks needed to be done. Clem spent his time in the kitchen with Vade, peeling apples and baking, they were always covered in flour, and anyone who tried to come in to help were chased out.

Moth helped Priscilla stitch new trim on to old dresses to help hide their shabbiness, as Japh and Ursula wove and wove garlands of flowers until their fingers bled from the twisting thorns. Nehem and Ira – Moth’s oldest brothers – gathered up all the finished garlands and brought them to Ofere to help the others families decorate.

The house was fuller than usual, as their second cousins had come down from the bustling city of Magden to join in the celebrations. Aunt Violet was Clem’s niece

– she worked as a washerwoman in Magden with her two daughters, and younger sister.

“They don’t have a lot,” Vade had warned Moth and her sisters. “So you give them ribbons and buttons and help them with being fancied up for the party. Not one of you should be looking any more well-to-do than them, do you understand?”

This warning did not set any of them in a charitable mood – especially Ursula, who was determined to be the best dressed of everyone in Hiren, let alone her poor cousins.

Moth finished one of the dresses – she livened it up with bright pink trim and a wide strip of frill to hide the tattered hem, and went outside to the pump behind the stable.

She could hear her cousin Salvia around the corner whining, “But we’re always doing laundry – this isn’t fair.”

Aunt Violet said briskly, “We will do our own fair share of work, Sev, we’ve not come here to be served by your cousins.”

Moth rounded the corner and waved to them. Aunt Violet, her sister Rena, and her daughters were doing the house’s laundry. Moth had never seen people clean laundry so quickly and excellently before, she marveled at the stains they managed to get out of cuffs and armpits. The line of clothes crackled in the wind, reeking of lye.

“Tully, I finished it,” said Moth, calling to her older cousin.

Drying her hands on her apron, Tully strolled over with a wide smirk. She was a pale girl with a wild mess of blonde hair and a thousand freckles, and she smiled lopsidedly, showing her big square teeth.

“Well now Mere, you sure this isn’t a new dress?” she asked, holding it up. Her Magden accent was crisp and short, Moth liked how it sounded like there was starch in her words.

“You like it, then?”

Tully punched Moth’s arm. “It’s perfect! Thanks girly. Let’s get dressed for the party soon, alright? Give me some advice, I’ve never been to an offering before.” Tully, flapped around her newly trimmed dress. “Should I be iced in buckets of flowers?”

“If you like,” said Moth. “I wear a little myself.”

Aunt Rena finished pinning up laundry and called over, “Girls? Are you done with your chores? I could use some help with this load.”

Tully grimaced and dragged herself over, pretending to cry, “But Aunt Rena please…my arms are so tired.”

Rena shoved some flyaways back into her mass of hair piled on her head, but they instantly flopped back out. “Tully,” she said, exhausted, “I don’t have time for your jokes.” She rolled up her sleeves. Her wrists were long and thin, and her skin was dried all the way up to the elbows from years of washing clothes with caustic soap.

“That’s cause your timeless, Auntie,” said Tully, and she bumped her hip into her aunt, startling Aunt Rena.

“Really, Tully!” Aunt Rena said, gathering herself, but a ghost of a smile came over her face and she shoved Tully away. “Get to work, both of you.”

Priscilla hurried out of the house, shaking scraps of ribbon off of her apron and saying, “Aunt Rena, let me help. Mere, you can run off somewhere, okay?”

Moth scrunched her forehead. “Alright. Are you sure?”

“I said it, didn’t I?” Priscilla, tilted her head back. “You too, Tully; go off.”

Shrugging, Tully scampered off and Moth followed at her heels.

“Priscilla seems nice,” said Tully.

“It’s strange. I wonder if she just wanted to talk to Aunt Rena without us being around.”

“You want to spy on them?”

Moth glanced at Tully, wondering if she was serious. “No. No of course not.”

“Oh lord you are sweet,” said Tully, sighing. “I remember when I was very well behaved.”

Her face getting hot, Moth said, “Do you want to get ready now?”

Tully nodded, so they went the half mile to Grandpa Clem’s house, where Tully and her sister were sharing a room with Moth. They dressed and chose ribbon colors and helped each other put their hair up, weaving ribbons through braids and sunstone pins – it was said the sunstone was the ferryman’s gem, though Moth often wondered where people got this knowledge from; either way, it was a traditional gem to wear.

“This is fun,” said Tully, tucking a spray of pins into Moth’s thick braid. “I’ve never had a pretty friend before. I always thought it must be a great pain to be pretty, but you seem to have an easy time of it, right?”

Moth laughed, but saw Tully waiting for an answer and stammered, “What?”

“Is it hard being pretty?”

“I-what do you mean?”

“Are boys always bothering you, and such? Won’t leave you alone?”

“No?”

“See, I knew it, it’s such a pain.”

Moth straightened her dress and said forcefully, “I mean boys are not bothering me at all.”

Tully raised an eyebrow, then seemed to realize as she glanced around. “They wouldn’t, would they? You are locked away up here. The only men you see are related to you. How do you intend to get married if you never see anyone?”

That thought had crossed Moth’s mind more often since she turned fifteen. “Priscilla managed well enough,” she said. Priscilla had gotten engaged just that summer.

“Well, she goes out and meets people, you see. She goes to all the farms to barter prices.”

Moth felt herself growing irritated at Tully’s slanted smile and lazy eyes. “Let’s go to the garden. You want flowers, right?”

Laughing, Tully trailed behind her. “Now girly don’t turn all cold on me, its just some harmless questions.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like answering them.”

“Maybe you don’t feel like thinking about the questions at all.”

Moth paused at the door and turned around. “Tully, stop it.”

Tully laughed, but seeing the expression on Moth’s face, said as seriously as she could manage. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good.”

After a moment of awkward silence – which seemed to only be awkward on Moth’s side – Tully said, “I knew you could be scary if pushed. You looked just like your mom right there when she’s Disapproving. It gave me shivers!”

“You never stop talking do you,” muttered Moth. “Come on, see which ones you want in your hair.”

They went out into the flower garden behind Grandpa Clem’s house. He and Moth had tended it together since she was eight, but the older Clem got, the more it became Moth’s garden to plant and tend it however she liked.

She had a quarter of it for autumn flowers, and they glinted in all their colors under the gentle evening light. She pointed them out to Tully, “There’s lemon-queen, and Lilyturf, anemones of course, and the last of the cyclamen.”

“Oh let me choose yours. I’ll take the lemon-queen, it looks like a weedy sunflower.” Tully pointed to the cyclamen. “Wear these cycle-flower things you said, they’re very elegant.”

“Most people wear cyclamen for the offering.”

“Why? Just cause it grow this time of year?”

“That, and a lot of it grows on the seventh mountain of the ferryman, so it’s easy to make wreaths of it. Cyclamen means ‘a secret’, in kukielli.” Seeing Tully’s raised eyebrows, Moth added, “Kukielli is the meaning of flowers.”

“What does lemon-queen mean?” demanded Tully. “Queen of lemons?”

“It means ‘good-luck’.”

Tully face became uncommonly somber as she said, “Well, I could use some of that. I’ll make a big crown for myself.”

*

They began making their wreaths in the kitchen with last hour of evening light. Some moths gathered around the window, fluttering their fragile wings against the glass. Tully watched them, and then Moth, and said, “Why’s Clem and Ama call you Moth?”

“Win Meremoth was my grandma’s name before she became Hevwed. Dad named me Mere, after her, but Grandpa calls me Moth.”

“Then I’ll call you Moth,” said Tully. “I like it better than Mere.”

They were nearly finished when the front door slammed open and Ama came running in, panting and angry.

“There you are! Moth! You said you would do my hair.” She stormed over and threw herself down in front of Moth, leaning her head back on her lap. There was half a braid started at the front.

“I though Pris was doing it,” said Moth, undoing the braid and starting over. “It’s a touch late, it won’t be elaborate.”

Ama snorted.

“You’re in a full mood. You remind me of my Salvia, though she’s a year younger,” said Tully, leaning back so far in her chair it looked ready to fall over.

“Well I’m not Salvia so you can go jump in a well.”

“Ama!” Moth said, trying to scold her but being drowned out by Tully’s howls of laughter.

“I’d give you a pat but you’d bite off my finger I know.”

“Course I would,” said Ama, rubbing her nose as she glared at Tully.

Tully said excitedly, “I’ll make you a crown too,” and ran out to the garden.

“What’s gotten into you? You can’t just talk to your cousin like that.”

“Second cousin. I asked Grandpa.”

Moth tugged hard on her head and Ama squealed. “Behave. We have to go in another ten minutes and I don’t have time to argue with you.”

Soon she finished her braids, and Tully came back in with a lemon-queen crown for Ama. “So we can match!”

Ama looked like she was going to spit a dagger, so Moth grabbed them both by the hands and led them out of the house and back to the main home, where everyone was piling into three different wagons.

“Who has that wagon?” asked Moth.

Ama stuck out her tongue. “Rodin Tunhofe came to drive Priscilla.”

Moth could see his shock of blonde hair sticking up even in the dim evening light. Priscilla was standing next to him, looking very pretty and smiling more in that moment than Moth had seen all week.

Prscilla caught sight of them and the smile vanished. She hurried over and said “Ama, where did you run off too?”

Ama grimaced at her. “Moth did my hair.”

Priscilla glanced at Moth and then lowered her voice, “I told you not to bother Mere.”

“Well, she did it,” said Ama.

“Come on,” Priscilla said, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go.”

“To where!”

“You’re going to ride with me and Mr. Tunhofe.”

“No I will not.”

There was no saying no to Priscilla, and she hefted Ama into the box seat next to her.

Tully covered her face, laughing so hard she was choking.

At last, all three carts set off into the night, with Nehem driving

The evening air was chilly, but they all were flushed with excitement and passed around jugs of cider, peppered up with some of their mother’s favorite brandy. The stars began to grow in brightness as the sun melted down off the earth, and an enormous harvest moon hung like a bowl of milk high over the ripened wheat, the fields glowing a soft red with the last breath of the evening.

The clean smell of wet earth and wheat was heavy on the breeze, a farmer’s perfume, and Moth felt she could not breath it deeply enough. Even with the sounds of everyone’s excited chatter, and the plodding pound of the oxen on the road, the whole world felt silent, and still, and ready for an offering.

“Well this is a touch nicer than the city,” said Tully, leaning over the edge of the cart to brush her hand through the tall grass that grew between the ruts of the road. “Are they all like this? Offerings, I mean.”

Moth stared at the field, as they dimmed from red, to brown, to blue in the sinking light, and soon she could see the glow of the moon on her skin. She felt ready to cry, so she bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of Tully. “No. Sometimes though, if we’re lucky.”

Violet, Rena, and Moth’s mother Vade were laughing uproariously in the cart they rode in, with Grandpa Clem swaddled in cloaks and blankets pouring them more cider. Just behind them, Ama was hunched in her seat next to Priscilla, her arms crossed – Tully waved to her and pointed to her matching flower crown and smiled. Ama ripped hers off of her head, and Tully wept from laughing.

“I love her so much,” Tully cried, drying her eyes on her hem. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as her.”

As they went on the road, it widened, and they soon joined other convoys of farmers, their carts loaded with their family and their offerings. Some were singing harvest songs, and Moth’s family bellowed to sing along, each cart swinging their lantern and filling the road with their light. “The best we give to you,” boomed over a still world.

Moth had Salvia stand up so she could see the long road, full of lanterns, like a river of fireflies, leading out into the endless fields of Hiren. It was dark now, but the full harvest moon hung just high enough it skimmed the head of Tiding Range, lighting the seven flat mountain tops.

“See it?” said Moth, nudging Tully. “That’s Tiding Range.”

“Oh? Hm.”

“There’s seven mountains. The middle one is Mount Cenning, where the Ferryman lives,” Moth said, breathlessly, seeing the angular, flat outline of Cenning stand like a podium in the white light. “It’s spring water comes directly from the Ofere where we’re headed, it’ll take everything up to him.”

Tully smirked at Moth, and, seeing her expression, stopped smirking and quickly said, “Oh really? Oh wow, that’s interesting.”

Moth had caught Tully’s look in that moment, and her face grew hot. She lowered her arm and sat back down.

Salvia rattled Moth’s arm, demanding, “And what else? What about the other mountains?”

Tully nodded encouragingly. “Yeah, tell Salv, she wants to know.”

“Oh, I don’t really remember,” lied Moth, smoothing out her skirt and picking a stray thread off her sleeve. “More cider?”

She was relieved when the carts slowed, clattering off the road onto the empty flat field that surrounded the Ofere. Colossal arbors of flowers and braided boughs of wheat had been set up all around – people quickly offloaded their carts and set them up like tables. Food was put out on crates and blankets, and a dozen firkins of cider and cherry wine were uncorked and glugged into waiting mugs.

Children and dogs ran after each other behind carts, and already a crowd was dancing on the field under some strung up lanterns. The elderly were brought chairs to rest on; they were wrapped in blankets, and a bonfire was made that spun and twisted up into the night – Grandpa Clem was led there by his son and made comfortable, Moth watched to make sure he was alright.

Tully tugged on Moth, “Let’s go dance! Salvia, come on, pick up your feet.”

Salvia jumped from the cart onto Tully’s back.

“Moth!” Shouted Ama, trying to shake out of Priscilla’s grip.

“Oh, let her come,” begged Tully, reaching out her arms. “We should all dance.”

Priscilla glanced at Moth and sighed, letting Ama loose, who ran to Moth, smacking away Tully’s arms. She took a death hold of Moth’s skirt and growled, “Let’s dance.”

“Moth, take this leech,” said Tully, shrugging Salvia into Moth’s arms. Tully grabbed hold of Ama and dragged her to the dance floor. “I want to dance with my true love, come on.”

A handful of musicians were set up and already halfway into a fast-paced song, and they burst into the midst of the field to spin around with everyone, losing buds of their flower crowns in the whirl.

The song ended and Moth laughed, catching her breath as Salvia tugged on her to be in the next dance. Moth followed her a few feet. She glanced up and saw Priscilla and Rodin walking onto the field as well – Priscilla bit her lip and looked over at Tully, Salvia, and Ama. She gestured for Rodin to wait, and went to Moth, saying, “Mere? Are you going to dance with the kids all night?”

Moth scrunched her brow. “Who else would I dance with? Did you want to dance?”

Priscilla rubbed her temple and took a breath. “Mere, you don’t need to take care of anyone tonight, alright? They’re old enough to have fun on their own.”

“I don’t mind; you and Rodin–”

“I have plenty of time with Rodin, and more when we get married. Tully?” Priscilla snapped her fingers at Tully and pointed in front of her.

Tully hurried over and stood to attention. “Ma’am?”

“Make sure Mere has some fun, alright? With people her own age. I’m taking Salvia and Ama.” Priscilla grabbed the young two girls and tugged them over to Rodin, who was trying not to grin at the angry expressions on their faces. He took them each by the hand and led them off into a dance.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what is wrong with Pris tonight, she’s been on everyone’s heels,” said Moth.

“I get what she wants,” said Tully, and they headed to fire where some grandmothers were heating up pots of cider and pouring it out for children. “I’ll do it, I’ll make sure you get to have some fun.”

“I am having fun. Pris just needs to stop fussing,” said Moth.

Tully gave her a cup of hot cider, and they drank. It was thick with spices, and heated Moth from the inside out. She leaned in for another drink, when an explosion of cheers burst up.

Tully raised her eyebrows at Moth, who pointed. “The Herdson family just arrived. Mr. Herdson is a brewer, and he’s very generous.”

People flocked to their cart, and he rolled off some barrels as his children scattered from their seats and joined the celebration.

“Look the Herdson’s have a boy your age. Come on Moth, budge yourself.”

There was a cluster of young men migrating from the cider to the dancing field, and Tully shouted, “Hey there, boys!”

They stopped, and one laughed – a boy named Ide. “Tully? What are you doing here?”

“Having a drip of fun for once.. Alright, take a look,” said Tully, grabbing Moth’s waist and pushing her forward. “Ain’t she something? I swear her waist is no bigger than my pinky. Who’s going to dance with her?”

“Tully!” hissed Moth, horrified.

“Look, they let Mere out of the house,” said Ide, grinning. “It’s now or never.”

There was burst of laughter from the boys, as several stepped forward.

“Don’t scare the girl,” shouted Tully. “She’s shocked enough to be outdoors. One at a time, cutest and richest first, of course. Young Herdson, come here, take her off.”

Gere Herdson jumped forward and held out a hand to Moth, who took it and was led to the field. They joined into the rollicking song the musicians were sweating over.

Gere was the same age as Moth, but he was already much taller; his hand was large and rough against hers – every muscle in her body tensed and she clenched her jaw, staring at her feet.

“I can’t believe I’m talking to you,” laughed Gere, smiling wide. “I’ve been dying to for over a year now, you know.”

“What–” Moth stopped herself. “I’m often busy.”

“You take care of your Grandpa, right?”

Moth nodded, looking out from the field. Grandpa Clem was tucked up in his blankets by the fire with her father sitting by his side chatting. “Yes.”

“Do you like it?” asked Gere, following her gaze.

“I love him.”

The dance was slowing down, and Moth saw her mother standing at the edge of the field watching. Vade’s lips were pressed together and she was tapping her foot; when the song ended, she gestured for Moth.

Moth hurried over, and so did Priscilla. Priscilla’s jaw was set, and she said as they got to Vade, “Mama, she’s just dancing.”

“I can see that. She should go dance with Ursula, or Tully,” Vade said, hands on her hips.

“We talked about this, mama,” said Priscilla, lowering her voice.

Vade jerked her head, and Priscilla and Moth followed her to the cart on the outskirt of the celebration.

“All I’m saying is Mere needs to be able to have some fun and…meet someone she’s not related to,” said Priscilla.

“I don’t like the Herdsons,” said their mother. “And she needn’t dance with anyone just to please you Pris.”

“This isn’t for me!”

“Don’t assume you know what’s best for her.”

Prisiclla clamped her mouth shut and crossed her arms.

“What did I do wrong?” asked Moth, feeling tears sting her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god,” said Priscilla, waving her hand at Moth. “Look at her. She doesn’t even know how to enjoy herself, she was trying to take care of Ama the whole time.”

Taking a deep breath, their mother said slowly, “A few of the boys around here have noticed Mere is very pretty.”

“Well obviously.”

“And a lot of the parents have noticed Mere works very hard and is sweet.”

“So they’re not stupid.”

“Some of them want Mere to marry into their home so she will take care of their parents,” said Vade, and Priscilla tensed up, her eyes getting narrow.

“They want her…”

“To work for them. To serve them. Most of them have aged parents they don’t want to deal with, so a few of the mothers have looked at Mere as way to outsource their parents.”

Priscilla started to speak but stopped, bracing herself on the edge of the cart. “Mrs. Herdson?”

“She was the first one I heard talk like that. I don’t hold is against Gere, he just thinks Mere is pretty – but I don’t want that woman around my baby.”

“That…” Priscilla fingers clenched onto the cart. “That inbred sow. She already runs her husband like a servant, I guess this shouldn’t surprise me.”

Taking another deep sigh, Vade said to Moth, “If you want to dance with Gere you can. You can dance with any of them, if you want – you can dance with Ama and your cousins, or not dance at all. I just want you to relax, I know you don’t get to meet anyone your own age, often.”

Pulling herself up, Priscilla said curtly, “I still think you should meet some of the boys. Your fifteen, start seeing what you think of some of them.”

“She’s not about to get married, Pris. And doesn’t have to get married at all if she doesn’t want to,” said their Mother, exhausted.

“Then she’ll just end up living out her life serving Grandpa Clem, and then someone else.”

“We’re not rich, Priscilla. She’s going to end up working her whole life anyways.”

“Well I guess it’s just a matter of choosing who she’s going to serve then. That’s all the choice she gets in the matter,” said Priscilla, flinging out her arms to gesture at all of the celebration. “Mere, what do you want to do, then?”

Moth was shaken by the conversation. She felt sick to her stomach. “I just want the fog to stop. I want the farmers to be okay.”

Priscilla and Vade exchanged glances.

“Alright I give up. Have fun Mere, I’ll leave you alone,” said Pris, walking off, and saying under her breath to Vade, “She spends too much time with Grandpa. Her head is full of his talk.”

*

The rest of the celebration whirled on, and soon the moon was high in the night, and it was time to give the offerings.

It was quiet now. Most of the children and babies had fallen asleep on their parents, who wrapped them in blankets and gathered in rows leading up to the Ofere.

The father and mother of the homes led carts to the Ofere. They gave barrels of produce and meat, bundles of clothing and embroidery, and they all sung the offering song, low and slow though the cold of autumn, as each house in turn made its offering in the water.

It was all swallowed up without a noise by the dark blue eye of the sinkhole.

Moth and her family were together. Vade sat on the ground, her lap being a pillow for Ama, with Aunt Violet and Salvia much the same. Tully nudged Ursula and asked, “Why does the ferryman need all that clothes and food? Some of the clothes are for children – Does he have children?”

Ursula shrugged. “Ask Mere, she probably knows.”

Tully eyed Moth. She had been withdrawn the rest of the night, feeling guilty and unsettled and childish the entire evening. She sat on the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest, feeling the offering song rumble through the ground.

Tully sat down next to her and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I don’t seem to have any embarrassment myself, as I give it all to others.”

“Its not that. It was – it was actually really fun.” Moth rubbed her head. She was exhausted. “He has servants and guests, so he keeps things for them.”

“That’s nice of him.”

Moth didn’t say anything else for the rest of the night. Her head was full of questions she couldn’t figure out how to answer. Why did she feel like a child? She felt so afraid of things changing, but she dreaded things to stay as they were. She didn’t want to serve; or, maybe she did? She realized after much thought, that she had no idea what she wanted.

The song grew louder and louder with each new offering given up to the water, until Moth felt it humming in her bones. Could he hear it? She looked up at Tiding Ridge. Would he get them? Did he exist at all?

Grandpa Clem had told her in private that he believed the fog would be back, and worse, and now was a season to store up food. He told her to enjoy the Offering while it could be enjoyed, to enjoy the community of delighted farmers, and not to worry until it was time.

Her eyes fixed on Mount Cenning, Moth felt she knew one thing; she wanted the fog to stop, she wanted Hiren to be safe.