The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 51:

Bale Hooks

Moth hitched up her skirts and ran to the greenhouse.

    She was full of thoughts and feelings, and she knew she wouldn’t be coherent, but she wanted to see Correb at once and try to unravel the mess of worries and hopes and sudden determination that was swirling in her brain.

    In a moment she was inside the greenhouse, panting for breath, and hurried around the trees to Correb’s corner.

    “Lord Correb,” called Moth, but pulled to a stop when she saw his empty couch.

He hadn’t gone ferrying – it wasn’t his schedule. Moth searched around the greenhouse, but he was nowhere. She’d assumed the only place he wanted to be when at home was in the greenhouse, either on the couch or in the pool, she had not thought there was anywhere else he preferred. He said he didn’t sleep – his room seemed purely ornamental.

Moth was agitated. She wanted so desperately to talk with him, and now had to choke it back down.

She reasoned that he would probably be in the greenhouse soon, and it would give her time to organize her thoughts while she waited. She did some light gardening as she brooded over what she’d say. She kept glancing out the window at the brightest section of the overcast sky and watched it slowly creep down and down towards the horizon.

Hours passed, and Correb was nowhere.

Moth gave up waiting. She left the greenhouse to return to the gatehouse.

When she entered the foyer, she found Lander and Vincent.

They were training with weapons – spears. Lander was against the wall, arms outstretched, and Vincent was hurdling a spear at her.

“Stop, stop, Mere’s here,” said Lander, as a spear dinked off her effigial shoulder and embedded itself into a wooden beam.

Vincent hastily gathered up the spears and said, “Sorry milady.”

Moth, at first horrified, became amused. “It doesn’t hurt you?”

“Feels like a puff of air – if it’s not tin. First time I ever felt pain in this body was touching that awful sword.” Lander jumped to help Vincent clean up the weapons strewn over the ground and embedded in some training dummies they had dragged out. “But yes, sorry about the mess, Lady Mere, I thought you’d be talking with Lord Correb a lot longer.”

Moth grimaced and said, “I’d hoped to, but I couldn’t find him. If you see him please tell me, it’s rather urgent.”

Vincent and Lander glanced at each other curiously. “Other than the greenhouse, there’s no place he likes to rest,” said Vincent. “He must have something to attend to. Poor lad.”

“Don’t call our mighty lord ferrier a poor lad,” said Lander, laughing. “It’s disrespectful. What would great grandmama say?”

“I can’t help but pity him. Only I understand having all my days planned out before me with no relaxation and only the best expected of me.” Vincent pretended to dab his eyes, but caught sight of Moth’s depleted face and said, “Well, I’m heading back for the day. Goodbye.”

*

Moth wanted to be alone and so chose to eat in her room. The quiet let her frame and phrase some of the questions she wanted to ask Correb, and after she ate,

she took her journal and began writing out her thoughts so she could shape them better.

There was a question she was afraid to ask Correb, and because of that, she could not figure out a rational, unafraid way to phrase it. ‘Will I ever be able to be with my family as I was before I was married to you?’ She scribbled out and rewrote the questions as many ways as she could, until it grew dark, and her light came from her candle and fireplace.

Sighing and rubbing her tired, hot head, Moth snuffed the candle and walked out of her room and out of the gatehouse. She needed air and a quick walk to help clear her head.

A cold breeze stirred the ivy in mighty ripples. Moth took a few steps away from the gatehouse and into the ivy, and the soft rustle filled up her mind with its soothing sound, like ruffling feathers, and Moth took several more steps out into the green sea.

The all-encompassing smell of pines filled the clean air.

Already she felt better, and Moth was about to return to her room when she saw a faint glow of light between the gaps of the trees where the mansion was, and she thought how lovely it must be when it was lit up at night.

She passed the fallen walls and old gardens, and through a copse of trees, and leaned against a trunk to watch the lights twinkle in the window of the mansion. She regretted she hadn’t eaten with the guiles that night, but she knew the noise and bustle would’ve worsened her mood.

As her eyes drifted over the mansion, she saw a light coming from the greenhouse.

Moth hesitated only a minute. She walked steadily across the property, arriving at the door of the greenhouse, and pushed it open.

At night, the creak of the door was magnified and echoed in the still and quiet place – Moth could hear the walking rose moving in the dark, she could hear her breathing, and she could hear the fireplace crackling – it’s glow, though small, filled the corner.

When Moth walked around the veil of trees, she saw the silhouette of Correb lit starkly by the fire, the violent red glowing deep in his inky feathers.

“Lord Correb?” Moth said, worried.

The ferryman rustled in his seat and turned to Moth. He looked beyond exhausted – he looked exhumed. He gave Moth a terse nod and looked back towards the fire.

All Moth’s prepared questions and speeches and petitions flew out of her head. She wavered on the balls of her feet, glancing back at the entrance, but gripped her hand and came closer.

“I wanted to talk about what we…talked about before.” Moth fumbled for the right words.

Correb didn’t respond as he stared into the fire.

Clearing her throat, Moth said, “I will go. I’ll do it – I’ll give up my family to represent you, to save Hiren from the fog.”

Correb bent his head to look at Moth from the corner of his eye. Every muscle in his neck and jaw was tensed. “And you want to save Hiren?” he asked. His tone was bitingly cold.

Frightened, Moth whispered, “My family lives in Hiren. I want to protect it.”

“There are others who live in Hiren besides your family,” he said. “I wonder if you know who you are rescuing. Ask yourself if what you really want is simply this: to move your family out of Hiren. You’ll find that some of the families that remain are not worth wasting a drop of your blood to help.”

Moth stared at her ferrier. She said, her voice wavering and shrill, “I don’t… I don’t understand. Are you angry?”

Correb saw Moth’s trembling hands, and his expression softened. He said quietly, “I am angry, but not at you. I am sickened to my marrow, but you are not the one who has offended me – my offense is with some worthless humans in Hiren.”

Moth had never known ferriers were allowed to have animosity towards their inhabitants. “What’s wrong?” She regretted her words even as they blurted out.

“I do not think I should tell you. You would, in your nature, feel responsible,” said the ferryman, and then added solemnly, “but I fear if I don’t, you’ll learn when you return to Hiren and it will dislodge your courage. Perhaps you should know, just to understand how difficult it is to serve any group of humans.”

The hair on Moth’s neck stood up. “I might feel responsible?”

The ferryman tapped his talon. The steady clack of it was like the ticking of a clock. “There are many in Hiren who despise the Tiding farmers. They believe them to be shamans and believe they would do me a service to rid the mountain of them. Tensions were worsened when they realized the fog never touched Tiding Range, and felt it was some sort of evil they were performing. Lotte Halig knew the consequences, but chose to offer you anyway, in her humility and wisdom. After you were offered in the ofere,” the flesh curled back from his teeth, “these worthless creatures began to plot. Tonight, they waited for Lotte’s daughters and son, and used bale hooks to remove their eyes.”

Asto, Laurotte, and Uko.

“I have been these many hours with Lotte Halig. I cannot express her grief. I will demand the blood from those that have done this and perform this unnatural task – not waiting to strain them from the water, but weigh them down to suvala myself.”

Moth’s mind was numb and empty. All she could think of was Asto helping her into her wedding dress before the offering. She could only think; What color were her eyes?

Her voice was reedy as she asked, “Are they alive?”

“Asto and Uko will live, but Laurotte is flickering. Her living or passing will determine the level of blood that’s owed.”

“Who did this?”

“I will never say their names. You may ask Halig, and she can name her enemies.” Correb bowed his head and covered portions of his face with his hands, groaning – the skin-peeling noise, shocked Moth to her core. She panicked, and grabbed his arm to make him stop, anything to stop the sound of a grieving ferrier, a sound like the earth collapsing, like a swallowing grave.

It did stop the noise. Lord Correb said, his voice hoarse and tattered, “Moth, do you know what you are trying to rescue? You will rescue all who live in Hiren, if you succeed – can you bear to help those who despise, and destroy, and blaspheme life, without losing your will to go on? They will oppose you – the ignorant, arrogant, prideful, spiteful, bitter people, who if they cannot torment you will torment your family with mocking or violence, all because you have the audacity to raise your head. Can you endure? How can I send you out to Hiren like a rabbit into a fox den?”

“Don’t…don’t discourage me when I just found the will to do it,” gasped Moth, redoubling her grip on his arm. “Please, I can’t risk Ama, or…or my mother, my grandfather – can’t bear the thought of them touched by the fog. I know I’m not strong, but if you think I have a chance of succeeding, I will go.”

Correb searched her face, and then he sighed. He reached out one talon, and touched the very edge of her chin. “You are not strong – but you are gentle, and for that reason alone I believe you can succeed.”

The point of the talon was cold and sharp as a knife, Moth did not dare move her head out of the fear it would slice her open. Correb withdrew it, and fell back against his couch – after a minute’s silence, he said, “Go to sleep. Tell me again in the morning that you still wish to go, and I will believe you. Let me alone.”

Moth, with shaken, labored steps, left the greenhouse, left her ferryman by the fire to mourn.