The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 98:

The Lost Ivory Hunters of the Mantydin

Moth, Korho, and Rodin were not excited about the prospect of heading back into the forest to bury – but they saddled their horses and rode out.

Before they had gotten far, Feldar rode out to meet them.

Moth immediately searched his face for anything – any guilt, indifference, or pride hat clung to him from yesterday.

But he was as unreadable as always, his carefully curated expressions did not give Moth any hint to what he was feeling – and she knew there was no point in asking.

“Feldar!” exclaimed Korho. “I looked everywhere for you yesterday!”

“I went for a walk,” Feldar said, riding alongside his uncle.

“That’s a long walk. You were gone all night.”

Rodin leaned over. “We’ve got to tell you – warn you of what happened yesterday. We met something called the Perimys.”

Feldar scrunched his brow, confused. “What do you mean you met it? It can’t be seen.”

Korho was outraged. “You know what the Perimys is? And you didn’t think to warn us?”

“When I worked here, the other woodcutters talked about the Perimys. They said it was a violent spirit that attacks you if you’re too far from the sunlight, too far from groups of people. It shapeshifts into winds, bad weather, floodwater –

causing accidents.” Feldar looked at Korho. “No one I’d worked with had seen it though.”

“Well Rodin saw it – so did Ticky.”

“I barely saw it. But it was a solid enough, not wind or a nasty raincloud.”

Moth glanced up at the trees. Losi was flying from tree to tree. Even talking of the creature made her fear it’d be summoned out of the still forest.

“We’re stopping by Rupert Fjer’s place today, right?” Rodin asked Korho, who nodded. “I’ll ask him about the Perimys.”

“Don’t,” Feldar said. “Unless you want to put Rupert in a rage. He’d get in a fight with anyone who talked about the Perimys around him. And Maxa said it didn’t exist.”

“Charming family,” grunted Korho. “Still, we got to pay respect to Rupert since he can’t visit us. Spit shine your horns, Lady Correb.”

Moth unconsciously touched her horned headdress – the one made by the Copekivi family – and said, “How is he doing?”

“Terrible. I don’t know if you’ve ever broken anything southward, but it makes running a millhouse difficult.”

Feldar looked over. “He runs the millhouse now?”

“Aye. Squabbling and arguing finally worked – Rupert pushed Maxa to let him take over the mill, so now Maxa oversees most of the business end. Hence the ugly Rumaknot wagon.”

Rodin snorted irritably. “They cleared out most of the old growth north of the mill already. They cut down the Grandma – the size of her was astounding. When they floated her downriver it dammed the bend, almost flooded – they called up my crew to help cut her to pieces to unclog the river. If it hadn’t been for Ticky’s skill and speed we would’ve been working nose-high in water. They never did try to float such a large tree again – learned their lesson.”

“Didn’t think they could learn anything,” Korho grumbled. “Here we are.”

They rode to the top of a cliff that looked over a lush pine canopy. The sudden blast of light on her skin felt amazing, she wanted to cup her hands and splash it on her face. Moth looked around for a house – and for a moment she couldn’t see anything. No mighty log cabin with a sod roof rose up on the cliff.

Instead, there was a stump house – what the woodcutters long ago called a kannoto.

It was the stump of a chestnut tree, fifteen feet wide – it’d been cut high, so it towered more than thirty feet in the air. The builder had constructed a wood shingle roof, out of which a metal chimney awkwardly stretched its skinny neck. Several windows had been inserted into the wall of the tree – with no thought to similar size or even shape, as they had to be squeezed and stretched to fit the twisting, curving trunk.

There was even a built-on balcony, where split logs had been used for window boxes, now full of blooming crocuses.

A woman walked out onto the balcony, watering the flowers, and looked up when she heard them. She waved enthusiastically and shouted, “You here for Rupert? He’s inside! Put the horses out behind in the paddock, but don’t crush my flowers or I’ll skin you.”

Feldar went to put the horses in the paddocks, and the others climbed the steps – attached sturdily onto the side of the tree.

Moth hadn’t been in a stump house before, and she tried to peer around Korho’s broad back to see.

The walls and floor had been carved out by axes, and the groove of it could still be seen centuries later in the nooks of the ceiling. This must be what it’s like to live in a woodpecker’s nest, Moth marveled, reaching out to touch the walls, which had been worn smooth as butter over time.

In one corner was stairs that was carved entirely from the wood, not needing a single nail or slat to construct it – except where the railing had been broken a century ago and replaced with new wood. Under the stair case were painted cabinets. Opposite the stairs was a tile stove – a giant pewter pot sat on it, cooking a roast, and the fragrant steam filled the small space.

The three of them could barely squeeze in without knocking into chairs and shelves, but managed to sit around a small table in the center of the room.

The woman descended the stairs, and when she saw her guests she exclaimed, “Rodin!”

Rodin hugged her mightily, kissing her graying head.

Though short, Cordelia was an impressive woman, covered in muscle and fat, especially her arms where she’d rolled her sleeves up over her biceps. Her red hair had greyed to pink, but Moth could tell from her bright grey eyes that she was not much older than fifty. Though her skin was plump and bright, it was deeply

grooved from a hard life – when she smiled, she flashed a few golden teeth that’d replaced rotted ones.

“I’m mighty glad to see you – I’d heard reports you vanished after I gave you the sunstones! Thought you’d been killed for them, or skipped town to start a new life.”

Rodin laughed. “No ma’am! Got lost in the pathways.”

“The pathways? Lord, always feared that’d happen to me on a dark night.” She bumped her hip against Rodin and laughed. “Glad you’re alive. You must all stay for lunch.” She eyed Moth cautiously, and said, “It’s nothing much, but hopefully it’ll suit you.”

Moth was about to answer when a mighty voice boomed through the house.

“Cords! Cords, are they here? Send them up!”

Cordelia went to the steps and bellowed, “I’m greeting them, you old fool!”

“They’re not your guests, they’re mine! Send them up.”

“I will not. You will wait!”

He began cursing and ringing a bell, but Cordelia ignored it and said to Rodin, “It’s venison.”

“Thank you for letting us stay for a meal,” said Moth eagerly, as Cordelia crossed her arms but listened to her. “It smells perfect.”

“Cords!” the voice shouted.

“Alright you old bastard, they’re coming!” screamed Cordelia, then said to the guests, “Mind your head as you go up the stairs, there’s squashed corners and too many shelves in this stump. Rupert is waiting on the third story, just keep going up through my room.”

Moth started up the steps and immediately hit her head on the corner of a shelf. Hugging the wall, she ascended to the second floor of the stump house.

The second floor was mainly full of stairs – one leading up and the other back down – but there was a small desk and a cupboard bed, and dozens of potted plants, as well as a door that led to the balcony.

The space was so crowded that Moth had to hurry so the others could follow up behind her, so they could reach the top story.

It was easily the most crowded place in the stump.

Besides giant cupboard bed, the place was full of cabinets – which spilled out with documents, books, bones, specimen jars, glass display cases of bugs and plants, maps of the pineland, and several recently-drawn studies of different conifers.

Moth’s heart soared in her chest. It reminded her of her own room.

She was so mesmerized by the hundreds of bones strung up and labeled that she barely noticed the man laying in the bed.

“You’re the grand lady, then?” he asked huffily.

He looked unnervingly like Maxa, but about half the size. His big wiry moustache and eyebrows drooped his face into a hounded look, but served to make his face looke distinct from his brother.

His muscular arms lay on top of the blanket, holding a magnifying glass and a bug in a jar, while next to him lay a book on insects and a journal.

He sar propped up on a dozen pillow, his face tight with pain – he winced whenever he moved too much, but he held out his hand to Moth and said, “Should’ve greeted you a while ago – should’ve been the one showing you around this stretch of pines, but plans changed, eh?”

Moth’s heart pounded. His small, dark, deep eyes were so like Maxa it caused her momentary fear – but she eased into a chair by his bed and shook his hand. “Before now, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Fjer. I’m a Hevwed from down in the fields before…before I married. I’m Mere.”

Rupert made a face at Rodin, saying, “Acting like I wouldn’t know her! So modest. Lady I was at your wedding.”

Startled, Moth asked, “At…at the offering?”

“Aye. Watched you fall to your death into the plate. Turned my stomach – I was disgusted!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms. “Everyone just stood around and agreed to kill a girl. Boldly, out in the open – drown her in a sinkhole.” He titled his head and looked at her. “Then you came back. I was in town when you rode through Okatto. Shook me to my heart – you lived.”

Moth clutched her hands together, fascinated as he glared at her with his pinpoint eyes. “Thank you for believing me.”

“If I didn’t believe you then, I believed you at the sunshower! I was there too. Maxa couldn’t care to come, since he’s a fool and an ass, but if he had I think he’d be less of a shit about all of this.” Rupert got angry, and when he did he sucked in air, reaching to grab his thigh to keep his hip in place as pain shot through him. He gritted through the pain and continued, “Anyhow, I’m glad you weren’t deterred and kept on. Those sunstones need to be buried.”

“Thank you! You forced Maxa to let us bury, he has been so unple–” Moth stopped herself.

Rupert laughed at her cautious face. “Ma’am, please understand I hate that man. Maybe ten years ago I had some hope for him, but now I’m just waiting for him to die. I’d run this whole place much happier without him, he’s turned this whole area into a graveyard he gets to reign over.”

Korho and Rodin burst into laughter, and Rodin said, “You should try to off him yourself, Rupert – though I suppose you tried at the millhouse.”

“Lord I was about to. Slipped clean off the bridge like the hotheaded fool I am.”

They began chatting, with Rupert mainly asking Rodin how his workers have been holding up – he wasn’t there to intervene between them and Maxa.

As they discussed the issues in Pineland, Moth stood up to stretch her legs and let Korho have the only chair, her eyes turning eagerly to the knickknacks in Rupert’s study.

Amidst everything, she was surprised how many illustrations of boats and ships there were, clipped from books or newspapers and taped up – until she remembered how much of the lumber produced in Hiren went to boatyards. Pineland was rich with oak.

Moth was fascinated by the skulls that hung over the study and over the bed. All were creatures found living in the forest: small animals like squirrels, pine martens, and mice, all the way up to larger creatures – reindeer, boar, stag and…

Moth did not know what the last skull was.

It was huge and lumpy, with the eye sockets set back, and one giant tusk coming down like a sword. She was annoyed with herself for not knowing what it was.

As she continued to explore the dense study, she saw, amongst the snips of newspaper articles on boats, a framed document hanging on the wall.

It was a copy of a shipping records report, penned by a harbor master from over 800 years ago:

‘Mantydin’ – milkfish boat – gone w’ five. Adon Fjer, Joikko Fjer, Owen Fjer, Johan Fjer, Maxala Fjer – all males.

There was also a return entry, penned hastily:

The Mantydin – milkfish boat – returned w’ one: Adon Fjer.

In pursuit of ivory to a breeding ground, attacked and four killed by a bull walrus.

Moth turned from it to look at the skull on the wall.

“We’re boring you, eh, Miss Korraban?” asked Rupert, leaning to look around Rodin.

“I was just admiring your study,” Moth said hastily, feeling like she was snooping. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Pleased by her admiration of his room, Rupert tried to sit up – in a moment of forgetfulness – and the color dripped from his face. He squawked in pain, falling back on the pillows, clutching his hip. Heaving for breath, he said, a bit more calmly, “One of you grab my Cordelia and tell her to get me some of the doctor’s medicine. The last drops are wearing off. Maybe some bread with jam too, eh? Tea as well.”

“I can fetch it,” Moth assured him smiling, and went downstairs.

She crossed through Cordelia’s room, pausing to see what sorts of plants she was starting in her pots, and as she descended the steps, she heard Cordelia talking with Feldar.

“–was a terrible coward and I’m sorry, Cubby. Should’ve stepped in.”

“Wasn’t your fight, Cords. You were good to me, you kept me solid – and you got back at Wella for me.”

“Wella! Now that’s a name I haven’t thought of in a minute. God she needed to be dragged around, pleased me to do it – and the way she would grovel for Maxa just set me on needles,” exclaimed Cordelia. Plates clinked on wood as she set the table. “Thought he might even take her on permanently to keep his bed warm, but of course that’d require some soul on his part. He fired her you know,

and she ran off with…ahh, what was his name? He was training to be the house cook.”

“Peter.”

“Peter! Stupid as a bull in heat.”

Moth reached the bottom of the stairs. Feldar ladled out bowls full of stew, leaning over the table, and looked up at her. “Lady Correb, lunch is almost ready,” he said.

Moth could never tell if he was being condescending or sincere.

Cordelia glanced at her and said crisply, “I hope you’re hungry, Lady.”

“Starving!” Moth assured, leaning over the railing as the aroma heated her face. “But I came to tell you Rupert wants some medicine for his hip.”

“Ha! I’m sure he would. Doctor said every six hours, so he’s got to wait another forty minutes, whine though he may – and will. I won’t suffer another man with an elixir habit.” Cordelia flung back her pale red curls. She patted Feldar arm. “Cubby, be a sweetheart and deliver a tray to the old bastard and call the boys down for lunch.”

Feldar fetched a tray from the cupboard and said, “Send me up with my meal, I want to sit with him.”

Cordelia pursed her lips but loaded up the tray. She said quietly to him, “Have a bit of mercy, eh?”

Feldar smiled. “You’ve really gone soft on him.”

“Oh, hush!”

“Never would’ve thought you’d turn your eyes on him. Living in his house and tucking him in at night.”

“Take the food and go, you cheeky runt,” exclaimed Cordelia, slapping his back as he ducked up the stairs. Moth had to squeeze against the wall so he could go up with the tray.

Soon, Rodin and Korho appeared and packed themselves around the table, hungrily falling on the venison roast.

After the tightly rationed foods of the camp, Moth could not believe how deliciously extravagant the food was – generous seasoning, plenty of meat, salt, and fresh warm bread.

Cordelia raised an eyebrow – pleased – when Moth asked for seconds.

Though Cordelia knew Rodin, she was closer in age to Korho and began asking him questions about the camp procession and how he’s managing it. “You’ve taken on a mighty weight, and bless you for it.”

“Well Lady Correb would have me by the ear if I turned them away,” said Korho, nodding at Moth. “She can be quite a tyrant.”

“She’s a woman! She wants to get things solved now, not twelve years in the future when its more convenient and too late,” huffed Cordelia, nodding at Moth. “Tyrant indeed.”

Moth was pleased Cordelia seemed to be warming to her, but she sighed, stirring her soup. “Nothing much has been solved, only postponed. Eventually we’re going to finish the burials. They’ve been following up around for protection, but we can’t stay like this forever, and I’ll be going back to the marches when this work is completed.”

Cordelia looked terribly uncomfortable at the mention of the marches, but she drank some mead and said, “I meant to come visit the camp. My cousin Nim is with you.”

“Nim is a good man,” said Korho, “He’s been a help to us.”

Cordelia covered her face, pleased. “He’s a good lad, isn’t he? Stubborn and terribly independent, but solid.”

“He helped us with our last burial.”

“I miss him. I must go see him.”

“You’re welcome to anytime. We travel slow, you won’t miss us.”

They concluded their meal, chatting for a good long while – with Cordelia occasionally glancing up at the stairs, looking worried, as if she was expecting shouts or anger.

But it was quiet.

Eventually Feldar came back downstairs, calm and inexpressive as always, bringing the dishes with him. He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for the meal, Cords. He wants his medicine now.”

She rolled her eyes but got up.

Korho slapped his knees and stood up, saying, “Alright you lot, time to bury.”

They set out from the Fjer stump house on their horses. The burial pit was a brisk walk away – dug up by Rupert and his crew weeks ago, and mercifully untouched this time.

They buried the sunstones with no problem and returned to the camp with their stomachs full of stew.