The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 71:

First Chance

When dinner was finished, Moth realized she’d neglected the magpies all day because of the farmers arriving. She brought out scraps of dinner to them, refilled the bowls of their maghouses with spring water, and gave them whatever shiny scraps of buttons she had saved up for them when she cleaned.

With their keen eyes, always alert for the smallest hint of a sparkle, they had scoured the grove and found every bit of fallen buttons and beads from the crowds.

Nokk, always the first to greet her, chirped happily as he ate the bits of leftover pie.

“Has any magpie come back with a message for me, yet?” Moth asked him. “A message from Lord Correb?”

“No,” he squawked.

Moth hoped it was only a matter of distance causing the delay.

She sat under the maghouse and tore up a heel of old bread for them, scattering it around, and then peacefully watched them search for each nibble.

When she looked up, she saw Quin standing nearby.

Leaping to her feet, Moth pressed her back against the maghouse. All the fear of her nightmares came flooding on her, and she had to force herself to remember the power Quin had in dreams was not the same as in wakefulness.

“What are you doing here?” Moth demanded, her hands shaking. She glanced at the magpies – they didn’t seem to notice Quin was there at all.

Quin was also looking at the magpies thoughtfully, and then up at the pine trees overhead. There was a noise behind her – this caused the magpies to jump and look around – as the beautiful white reindeer emerged from the woods and leaned its head lovingly on Quin’s shoulder.

“You have it now,” said Quin, at last answering Moth’s question.

Moth lifted her chin defiantly but knew there was no point in lying. “I have the skin.”

A fleck of a smile crossed Quin’s mouth when Moth called it a skin. “Do you agree to give it to me?”

Fear pounded in Moth’s ears. She said feebly, “I…I can’t. No.”

Quin nodded, not surprised, and pet her reindeer. “You have three chances – you spent up this one. Each ‘no’ will be worse for you, and it will not matter in the end as I will have the skin.”

“Why wait then?” Moth asked, her intended brave tone offset by her voice creaking. “Why don’t you just go take it?”

Quin tilted her head. She said, instead, “It will not go well for you, you are a false bride, but it will be worse for the brother-killer. Two more chances.”

And, having said all she had come to say, Quin left with her reindeer trailing behind her.