The Ferryman - Book 1

Unknown solo tag: [ text:bookmark-start ]Chapter 93:

A Favor for a Magpie

Unknown solo tag: [ text:bookmark-end ]The braziers were rekindled and crackled with heat, barely lighting the meeting tent.

Heikka placed Rodin – shivering – by the braziers, draped him with blankets, and poured out alcoholic tea, saying briskly, “Give him a moment to warm up before you jump on him with your questions.”

Korho and Feldar reluctantly closed their mouths and sat down, as Moth cut up cheese and bread and passed it to Rodin, who gnawed on it ravenously.

The tent flap opened and Ticky poked his head in, asking quietly, “Sorry to bother. Can I come in?”

Korho nodded and gestured him in. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“The…sound woke me up,” he said, glancing at Moth.

Rodin looked up, delighted, and said, “Ticky! What are you doing with this lot?”

“I’m biding with the vagrants until they pass through the pinelands.”

Rodin nodded. He was bleary-eyed but beginning to regain his strength. He took a deep drink of rum-spiked tea, looking around at the familiar faces who gathered silently by him. “So, you’ll be wanting to know what happened?”

“All of what happened,” insisted Feldar, leaning back. “You’ve been missing for days – I began to suspect Rupert never sent for you at all.”

“I set out the day I was called by Rupert. He sent his friend, who gave me the sunstones,” Rodin began, pleased to be the center of attention. “I know this forest! Been up and down the lower third since I was a boy with ma. Logging trails? I could

draw you a map from memory! But…” he stopped, puzzled. “As I got further in, the trail…looked different, suddenly. I thought nothing of it since I knew I was going in the right direction, but soon I found I was still on the same trail. It didn’t matter how long I rode on it, it kept going. Thought I was going mad. I tried to go off the trail, through the trees, but it was like a stage prop – you went a few feet into the forest, and there was a solid black wall. Not black, exactly – more like nothing. Solid nothing.”

Moth, Korho, and Feldar all looked at each other, amazed, but Ticky nodded.

“The old paths,” he said.

Rodin rubbed his face, shaking his head. “Ma warned me about those, but I wasn’t sure if they still existed.”

“Old paths? What the hell are you talking about?” Korho demanded. “Another godawful thing I have to worry about in these forests?”

“Ma said there use to be all these paths that led from here to the marches, to ferrier territory,” said Rodin. “Though they were closed off on one end by the ferriers, the tunnels still remained – even if they didn’t lead anywhere.”

Moth’s mind went to the map Correb had given her.

“They get used by the shamans,” added Ticky. “You can poke holes in them, to go to other places in the Pineland. Like…secret escape ways.”

“Awfully cold place. Lost my horse in there – I don’t know where she ended up, but Ma will kill me when she hears.”

Ticky sucked on his teeth. “Which tree did you come out of?”

Korho answered for Rodin, saying, “That one with the big burl.”

Ticky nodded. “I know which path that is, I’ll fish her out.” He stood and left, passing by Balwin, who was ushered into the tent by Heikka to sit and drink.

Win was a violent splash of color in the dim light, like some great luminous bat, and Moth squinted her eyes against his garish robes as he tugged on his layers

to sit down comfortably – head tilted defiantly – at the same table with everyone. He held a cage that contained his magpie.

Rodin hastened to reach out and shake Win’s hand, saying fiercely, “You might be a bloodsucking shaman, but god I’m grateful to you for helping me.”

Win put on one of his dazzling smiles. “Well, I’m happy if through this you have even one positive experience with a shaman. It’s the least I could’ve done for a fellow Hirener. You know, Rodin–”

“Go on, Rodin, finish your story,” Feldar interrupted, and Win’s smile flickered into a sneer.

Rodin leaned back in his chair, saying, “I was wandering for…I don’t know how long, but then a magpie showed up out of nowhere! Good sign, I thought to myself. It led me, chattering at me to keep going, and I followed it – I knew I was on new roads, I knew I had gotten out of the loop, but the new place it led me was so dark it was hard to find my way. Just when I thought we were about to get out, the magpie started getting slower and slower until it – plop!” Rodin raised his hand and dropped it onto the table with a clatter, “it fell right out of the air onto the ground. I thought it died! But it was asleep – I couldn’t get it to wake up. Everything was getting colder too. I just hunkered down with it, tucked it in my shirt to keep it warm and wait for it to wake up. It was getting cold but I kept myself awake, talking to myself and rocking and–”

“Singing?” asked Moth.

Rodin looked at her, fascinated. “Aye…singing. Hours passed like that. I was on the verge of sleeping when the magpie burst awake, half ripped my shirt to pieces, like it was full of lightning. When it took off, I had to sprint to keep up – then I saw it, hanging up like a moon: a hole in the wall of nothing, leading out.”

Moth looked over at Win, who was covertly trying to feed his magpie with scraps from the table. Though the magpie was tired, and its cage clean and comfortable, it was agitated, trying to flutter out. It jabbed its beak between the bars, chattering wildly with bright, bright eyes.

“Damn it,” Win muttered, rubbing his mouth.

“How did you know Rodin was in there?” Feldar asked Win, leaning on the table to look down at him.

Win scowled and said nothing.

Moth looked closely at the magpie. After having been friends with an entire flock of magpies since she’d returned to Hiren, she’d gotten good at noticing little differences between them.

She recognized it.

“This is the magpie that was hanging around my window at Poor Loom,” said Moth. She looked angrily at Win. “It’s the one I kept seeing in the pines. It’s been watching our camp!”

Win waved his hand, as if it was nothing serious. “Well, well, be grateful I was! It’s how I knew Rodin was lost.”

Moth opened her mouth, sputtering for words.

“Lady Correb,” he said smoothly. “You come here to Hiren, as our exalted ferriers wife, and stir up the entire county – it is my duty, my responsibility, as this community’s leading shamanic representative, to keep an eye on you! Too many faces look to me for guidance for me to fail in my obligations.”

As he spoke, his voice strained to speak above the ruckus his magpie was making.

“Please do something about your bird,” Moth said irritably.

Twisting his mouth, Win said, “Ignore her, she’s had a long night.”

Moth watched him intently, and he shifted his gaze away.

“Tell me again why it my voice that could wake up the bird?” Moth insisted.

“As I said – you’re Lord Correb’s wife,” said Win, a touch reluctantly.

Moth leaned forward. “How do you know? Everyone was so uncertain, but you were convinced.”

Laughing – a strained laugh, as the magpie continued to screech in frustration – Win answered her grandiosely, “Am I a fool? It’d be like not knowing a comet has struck Hiren. Milady, every shaman here knows you’re his bride. Any shaman who has ever touched the caul knows this. The pineland shamans know this – it’s why they don’t want you cutting through here with your sunsto– shut up!” he shouted, turning angrily on his magpie. “God, I knew she’d wake you up too much!”

The magpie was screaming with grief, trying to snap the bars of its cage with its beak.

“Five years of training, lost,” groaned Win, and unable to stand the noise anymore, he slapped the cage door open.

The magpie sprung out, whirled in the air, and rushed into Moth’s arms.

Moth grappled to keep from dropping it, holding it like a cat in her arms, and it quieted down and began happily chirping, occasionally nibling her thumb and rubbing its head against her hand.

Everyone in the tent stared in shock, except Balwin.

“Ruined,” he muttered.

Quietly, Moth searched Win’s face. The magpie was well taken care of, its feathers were glossy and it sparkled with health. It was beautiful. “What’s the magpie’s name?”

Win’s face soured. He set his jaw and looked away. “Her name is Losi.”

“I’ll buy her from you.”

This piqued his interest. His smile was back in sudden, full force, and he said, “Well, I’ll sell her for a favor. I’m not feeling too well – let me travel with you until

I get my strength back. I brought no supplies with me, so I’ll have to rely on your generosity until I can travel back home.”

Moth looked at Korho, who wrinkled his nose. He grumbled, “Another mouth! And a shaman, no less! But sending him out in the dark with no food and no rest…”

“I’ll pay for anything I use,” interjected Win. “It’s just the rest and…protection I need, at this moment.”

“Of course you can stay!” said Rodin, swallowing a huge bite of food and passing more cheese and bread to Win. He looked up at Moth, seriously. “Mere, he helped me.”

Moth gritted her teeth, exasperated. “He can travel with us – but only for a week. And he can’t wear his shaman robes while he’s here.”

Win deflated slightly, but he said, “Agreed.”

Korho pushed himself up from the table and clapped his hands decisively, saying, “Alright, everyone, to bed. Win, you have the privilege of sharing a room with me, you’ll sleep on the floor – Rodin, you’re with Feldar.”

“Just like old times,” laughed Rodin.

Feldar thumped him on the shoulders, grinning. “Glad to see you again Rodin. Glad you’re alive.”

“Ah, no need to be so sentimental. Show me to this bed so I can collapse. We got burying to do first thing in the morning, eh?”