The Ferryman - Book 1

Unknown solo tag: [ text:bookmark-start ]Chapter 79:

3 Days Gone

Unknown solo tag: [ text:bookmark-end ]

Moth gasped awake, grappling for the curtains of her bed to pull herself out, soaked in sweat and stumbling on weak legs.

She hobbled to the washbasin, drinking deeply from the pitcher to sooth her sanded throat, trying to calm herself with the cold water. She splashed her face and sunk into a chair.

It was as though she had landed back to existence – with all the burdens of the life she’d been given. The feeling, the weight of it threatened to split her.

“Nehem,” Moth gasped, hugging her knees. “Ira, Ama – oh god they don’t know.”

Her head throbbed with fear, anxious premonitions eating through her mind like wormrot. She hoped there was time – they left only a day ago, maybe they were barely at Picky Woods. She wondered if she could trust Feldar to go there and help them, she wondered if they were already in trouble.

She flung on a robe and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen.

Lt. Grotte sat in her usual place by the fire, her chin tucked into her chest, snoring.

It was only then that Moth noticed it was barely morning, not yet light enough for birdcalls.

Moth glanced around the dim room, but couldn’t find Feldar asleep on the stovebed or windowseat.

There was a startled grunt from Lt. Grotte.

She choked, “Mere? Shit, you scared me.”

Moth, trying to control her whirling emotions, gave a forced, feeble laugh and said, “I’m sorry, I…I couldn’t sleep.”

Lt. Grotte stared at her. She pulled herself up in her chair and leaned forward. “Are you joking?”

Her tone worried Moth. “Joking?”

Seeing her confusion, Lt. Grotte rubbed at her mouth in thought, then said slowly, “You’ve been asleep for days. Leastwise, every time I checked on you.”

Moth wobbled. She reached out carefully, felt for the arm of the couch, and slid down. “What’s today?”

Lt. Grotte stretched, stood, and put on a kettle. “Wednesday. You went to bed Sunday night and poh, you were hibernating. You were so dead to everything, you’d left your window open and magpies were everywhere. I chased them out, locked your window too – you didn’t even wake up for that.”

Moth’s head sunk into her hands.

“Tried once to wake you Monday morning, when Saavule came back again to help the tinners – they didn’t need anything, I just thought you’d want to oversee it. But you might as well have been stone. Didn’t matter, it all got taken care of, so I thought you were probably exhausted from all the work that you needed the rest.”

They would already be through Picky Woods then, if they haven’t been…if Quin hasn’t… There was no thought that would bring Moth comfort. She couldn’t control herself and stifled a pained gasp.

Lt. Grotte hurried over, grabbing Moth’s shoulder. “Mere?”

Moth wouldn’t lift her head. She could tell no one, there was no one to confide in – the sunstones were too precious, Hiren too precarious – they were either dead, or safe. The sunstones would be there either way.

But Moth felt she would crack if she couldn’t share some piece of her grief. She’d never been alone before.

“Someone has…had been threatening my family,” Moth said, her voice strained. “It’s been hard to…to feel at ease. I’m sorry I worried you with my sleep – I suppose I was just exhausted.”

Lt. Grotte sat down next to her on the couch and hugged her. She was so much larger than Moth, it made her feel like a child. “Well I think Nehem can take care of himself, he’s a bear and a half. I know he’s not here, but I promise if you’re in my house under my roof I’ll protect you. You Hevwed’s seem to stick together...family like that must be nice to have.”

Moth clutched onto Lt. Grotte’s hug. The comfort of it was the only thing able to quiet her swirling thoughts – and Lt. Grotte didn’t let go until the kettle rung and she said in a bright tone, “I’ll get you some tea, eh?”

While Lt. Grotte bustled in the kitchen, trying to find a clean cup, Moth was able to think a bit more clearly about a plan.

She considered sending a message to Correb, but her previous message hadn’t come back yet – he still hadn’t answered her about the skin. Or perhaps the magpie had forgotten its mission. She wasn’t sure how reliable the magpies truly were, they were animals after all.

If she confided in Feldar and sent him after them, it would be too late.

Quin hadn’t even mentioned what she was going to do to Moth’s siblings. Moth had to remind herself that a great deal of shaman tactics was based on cultivating fear.

It was slow and by inches, but Moth began to regain some scrap of hope.

She knew them, they weren’t helpless. Nehem was strong, Ira was smart, Ama fast and stubborn and armed with her bow. Moth just hoped they didn’t stop and sleep in the woods, but travelled until they were out.

“Here.” Lt. Grotte gave her a chipped mug of tea.

The steam was soothing on her face. Moth looked down at her reflection. The only thing she felt strongly was that she did not want to give Quin the satisfaction of ownning her mind.

Lt. Grotte sat down next to her on the couch with a cup of tea, occasionally glancing up to keep an eye on Moth. “Talked with Feldar a few days ago, before you went off hibernating. Mentioned our talk about the burns, you know, how you said I’m burning your ferrier.”

Moth looked over at her, jolted from her thoughts.

“Just want you to know there’s nothing owed or due, I’m not writing it down or anything.” Lt. Grotte held a hand over her heart as if she was taking an oath. “No resentment. Feldar helped me see it a bit from your side.”

“Did he?” Moth asked flatly.

“He said you’re real passionate about Hiren and all, he said you’re convinced the ferryman here is still alive. He also said…you believe you’re married to him.”

Moth pressed her lips together sourly but said. “Yes.”

Lt. Grotte nodded slowly, grimacing the while. “Well alright. Good to hear it from you and it’s not some joke from Feldar. Now why do you think you’re married to him?”

Moth leaned back on the couch and rubbed her temples. “Sabine! Please. I know you think he’s dead just like everyone in Korraban, so you just think I’m mad. I met him! I…I married him. I’m his wife. That is the rich husband! That is the person who has given me the clothes and the jewelry and the…the privilege of speaking to Hiren and advocating for them. I didn’t fish these clothes out of a lake somewhere, or dig these tin ornaments out of someone’s garden.”

Lt. Grotte hastily held up her hands and said – in a voice that was meant to be compromising but was ear-gratingly condescending – “Alright, if that’s what you think.”

The only benefit of that conversation was it irritated Moth so much she forgot to worry about her siblings for an hour.