Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman (12 page)

Aubranael grinned at her. ‘Balli takes a little getting used
to,’ he said, kindly enough, and Isabel nodded, aware that her
cheeks were very warm.

Mr.
Balligumph returned a few moments later, properly attired in the
long trousers and boots, shirt, waistcoat and jacket he preferred,
his hat crowning his still-damp locks. Isabel was always surprised
anew at how enormous he was: vastly taller than she, and wider by
far. He had tusks, too, on each side of his mouth, which ought to
be fearsome. But his manner was so friendly, and his smile so
congenial in spite of the tusks, that Isabel found it hard to be
afraid of him.

‘Come
inside!’ he invited, opening his door wide and beckoning with a
vast sweep of his arm. ‘I ‘ave arranged fer tea an’ somethin’ sweet
to please ye.’

Isabel dismounted
carefully. There did not seem to be anywhere to tie up her mount,
but this did not trouble any of her companions. She followed their
lead in looping up the reins of her mare, and letting her
wander.

Within a few moments she entered Balligumph’s kitchen, a
surprisingly spacious room built from stone, with a large round
table in the centre. The chairs were all of different sizes: one
was fully large enough to accommodate Balligumph himself, and it
was upon this one that he seated himself in due course. The others
varied: some were sized for human (or, more likely, Ayliri) guests
while others were tiny, if very tall — just right to seat a
brownie, perhaps, or a hob. Tafferty freely appropriated one of
these, ignoring Isabel’s invitation to sit by her.

Balligumph served tea in surprisingly delicate cups. These,
too, were of different sizes: Isabel’s was of normal proportions,
albeit breathtakingly exquisite, while Balli’s more nearly
resembled a bucket. All were made from airy glass, as thin as a
butterfly’s wing, and swirled with iridescent colours. She picked
up hers gingerly, certain that it would break the moment she lifted
it from the table. It did not, however, bearing its load of pale
green tea with ease. They were not at all what she would have
expected the troll to possess; nor were the tiny, white-iced cakes
which he soon afterwards served. They bore a fragility and a
delicacy which seemed wholly at odds with the troll’s pragmatic,
down-to-earth manner and attire — not to mention his
size.

‘I
bid ye welcome, Miss Isabel, t’ Aylfenhame,’ Mr. Balligumph said,
handing her a plate of lacy biscuits with a wink. ‘Tis a shock, no
doubt, but I am certain in me own mind that ye’ll adapt, and soon
at that. Ye’re a lively lass, an’ wi’ no small measure o’ sense in
yer brain.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Isabel, unsure what else to add. She
was not required to speak much, for Balligumph went swiftly
on.

‘Sir!’ he said delightedly. ‘I like that! What a polite little
miss ye are. Miss Sophy, there; she gave up on Sirrin’ me long
ago.’ He twinkled at Sophy, who smiled in response. ‘An’ the
princess, why, she don’ like to be addressed as Her
High-an’-Mightiness no matter how charmin’ I am in sayin’
it.’

Lihyaen paused
with her mouth full of cake, and shook her head
vigorously.

‘There, now,’ said Balligumph with a good-natured chuckle,
‘I’ll no’ torment ye by doin’ it. Anyhow. Tell me yer business in
comin’.’

Sophy
looked at Isabel. ‘It is on Isabel’s account that we are here,
sir,’ she said with a twinkle. ‘She encountered the Ferryman, as I
imagine you know.’

Balligumph grinned, displaying enormous pearly-white teeth.
‘Ye’re by no means slow on the uptake either, Miss Sophy! Aye, I
did know. I was commissioned, ye may say, t’ convey Miss Isabel t’
Aylfenhame by some means or other, an’ word ‘ad already reached me
o’ yon Ferryman’s return. How did ye find the trip?’ This last was
directed at Isabel, his head turning to fix her with a golden-eyed
stare.

Isabel swallowed a bite of cake, and set down her exquisite
tea cup. ‘It was remarkable, sir, as you may imagine,’ she said. ‘I
never thought to fly! And in a boat, of all things! I enjoyed it
very much.’

Balligumph nodded. ‘Thas wonderful,’ he said, beaming. ‘But
ye ‘ave not come all this way to see me just to tell me that. Out
wi’ the rest, now.’

So
Isabel told him everything about her conversation with the
Ferryman, ending with her promise to find his name. Balligumph’s
eyebrows lifted near to his hair at her words, but instead of being
shocked or alarmed, as Lihyaen and Aubranael had been, Balligumph
broke into a vast, gusty laugh. ‘Ye did not!’ he bellowed. ‘Ah!
Tha’ would’ve fair knocked the wind out o’ his sails, I’ll
wager.’

‘It
did,’ Isabel agreed. ‘I do not think he believed me,
quite.’

‘Well
he might not! Tha’ a green young miss out of England should show up
an’ do what no one in Aylfenhame would’ve! Present company
excepted,’ he added, with a nod at the rest of his guests. ‘An’ wi’
no more notion than a babe’s o’ what she’s got her good self into!
Well, well. I applaud ye fer it, Miss Isabel. Twas kindly done, an’
brave.’

Isabel coloured. ‘But I do not know how to find his name,’
she said simply. ‘Sophy thought that you might.’

Balligumph tugged
on the curled end of one of his tusks, thinking deeply. Nobody
spoke while he did so, for they understood that he was perusing his
considerable mental catalogue of facts, a task which might take
some time. Isabel applied herself to her tea, which was deliciously
refreshing, and consumed a few of his pretty cakes and biscuits
before he finally spoke.

‘The
Ferryman’s name ‘as been lost a long, long time,’ he said. ‘Even I
cannot tell ye how long, exactly. So! If ye wish fer guidance, ye
must consult someone a deal older’n me.

‘The
difficulty wi’ that, though, is as follows: the Ferryman is not the
only one o’ the old folk to fade. It’s ‘appened to many since the
Times o’ Trial, as they call them Kostigern days. An’ even more so
since the loss o’ the Royal folk.’ He said this with a kindly nod
at Lihyaen, who frowned and disappeared into her tea.

‘But!’ said Balligumph, brightening. ‘The Ferryman isn’t the
only one to return, neither. Folk ‘ave been wakin’ up. Some good
folk, some less so, but folk, an’ so yer options are not so very
limited as all that.’ He paused to think for a little while longer,
tugging again at his tusk and humming something low and tuneless to
himself. ‘I ‘ave just the person,’ he pronounced at last. ‘Old as
the hills, so they say, though I dunnot think he is quite so old as
all that. Some few o’ yer centuries, at any rate, an’ he’ll maybe
‘ave a fair guess to make as to where else ye should
go.’

Balligumph clapped one great hand down upon his hat, settling
it more firmly upon his head, and stood up from the table. ‘No time
like instantly, an’ without delay!’ he declared, and strode to the
door. Isabel hastened to follow, Tafferty close upon her
heels.

‘Get
yer pretty ponies,’ Balligumph called, already striding away into
the forest. ‘Ye’ll never keep up wi’ me elsewise!’ He proved his
point as he spoke, for his long legs ate up the pathway; already he
was disappearing into the trees. Fortunately, turning the mounts
loose had not been a mistake. They were gathered in a little group
not far from the house, grazing placidly upon the sumptuous
grass.

Isabel hurried to mount her pretty mare, struggling a little
with the arrangement of her long skirt in the process. Aubranael
assisted her aboard with kind care and an encouraging smile, for
both of which she was grateful. Princess Lihyaen was quicker to
mount, by virtue of the simpler, shorter gown she wore; Isabel felt
a moment’s envy for the girl’s freedom in the matter of dress. Not
for an instant could she, Miss Ellerby, consider adopting a more
practical and convenient mode of apparel! Much as she loved the
light muslins, narrow, draping skirts and flimsy shoes of the
current English fashions, they were remarkably inconvenient
whenever one wished to perform any particularly active
task.

She
urged her mount forwards and fell in behind the Princess, Sophy and
Aubranael trailing behind. The whole party set off back into the
Outwoods at some speed, obliged to ride at a fast trot to keep pace
with their troll guide. Isabel could not tell whether Mr.
Balligumph’s speed stemmed merely from enthusiasm, or from some
sense of urgency, but he maintained his rapid pace for fully half
an hour, without slowing for so much as an instant.

The
vast trees of the Outwoods provided ample shade, but the air was
hot and dense, and Isabel grew unpleasantly warm and uncomfortable.
Clouds of midges haunted the glades beneath the leaves, many of
which she was obliged to ride through, holding her breath to keep
from inhaling any of the wretched insects. As pleasant as the
scenery may be, therefore, she was glad to see Balligumph come to a
halt ahead of them, and to rein in her mare accordingly.

The
troll had stopped abruptly, and not as though they had arrived at
their destination. He stood very still, staring up into the canopy.
One fat finger stroked absently along the length of one tusk, a
gesture Isabel was beginning to understand meant that he was deep
in thought.

‘I
reckon it is!’ boomed the troll at last, a broad grin wreathing his
face. ‘It’s ye, up there! That one, there, wi’ the trailin’ bits
an’ the frilly leaves. Ye always were a one fer the fancy fashions,
Gunty!’

Isabel stared.
Balligumph was talking to empty air, as far as Isabel could tell,
for nobody stood before him. More than that, she could have sworn
that he was addressing a tree. He had stopped in the midst of a
neat ring of particularly tall trees, their trunks at least five
feet wide. They towered so far overhead, Isabel felt a little
dizzied when she looked up into their branches. What intrigued her
the most was their colouring: there were seven of them in total,
and each was decked in leaves and frondy vines of rainbow colours.
The nearest to her was predominantly red, with crimson foliage and
scarlet vines; its next neighbour was orange, saffron and cinnamon;
and so on around the circle. The arrangement was attractive to the
eye, but strange indeed, and Isabel could not imagine that they had
grown naturally in such a state.

Balligumph’s words died away, leaving nothing but silence.
‘Come on!’ he bellowed into the air. ‘I know ye’re there! Nappin’,
I shouldn’t wonder, but ye’ve done more’n enough o’ that, Sir! Wake
yerself an’ meet some very good folk. They ‘ave come a long way to
meet ye.’

Nothing happened. Isabel’s mount grew restive, perhaps
resenting the warmth and weight of Tafferty curled up upon her
neck. Isabel devoted a moment or two to soothing her with gentle
pats and soft words, and in so doing, missed whatever it was that
encouraged Balligumph to shout with rousing delight: ‘Thas the way!
Good! Tis a matter o’ some importance, ye collect, or I would leave
ye be. Not tha’ ye deserve it, ye old dog! Come on, now. A bit more
o’ that, an’ ye’ll be fit fer company.’

Isabel looked up from her mount and stared into the colourful
circle of trees. Where all seven had previously been eerily still,
now one of them displayed some slight movement. The green-hued tree
was decked in velvet moss and sprouting pale green flowers; long,
twisting vines hung from its higher branches, each one fabulously
striped in jade and sage. The vines were swaying gently, and — did
her eyes deceive her? — the star-shaped flowers were opening and
closing, as though stretching themselves after a long sleep. As she
watched, a strong shudder descended from the tree’s branches to its
trunk, raining bits of moss and leaves down upon Balligumph’s
head.

‘Hah!’ he barked, shaking himself. ‘A pretty trick, but mayhap
I ‘ave deserved it. Come on, now. We ‘aven’t got all day.’ He
turned and winked at Isabel. ‘He can be a mite sluggish, Miss, but
he’ll wake. It’s because o’ the long slumber. Tricky habit to shake
off, that one.’

Isabel nodded, trying to look as though she possessed some
faint inkling as to what he referred. She did not. As far as she
could tell, Balligumph was talking to a tree and receiving some
manner of response. How did that make any sense?

But
the tree was shrinking, its distant boughs growing gradually but
undeniably closer to the ground. Its bark smoothed and softened,
branches shrank and faded away, and its trunk narrowed. The
transformation was rapid, once begun: Isabel saw a vast,
green-decked tree, and then she saw a giant.

He
was bigger than Balligumph. Isabel judged his height at perhaps ten
feet, with girth to match. In fact, he was only a giant on the top
half, a great, mighty-looking man-like creature wearing green
velvet and a soft, baggy hat. From the waist down, he was still a
tree, his trunk firmly rooted into the ground.

Those
velvets were odd to Isabel’s eye, though not wholly unfamiliar. She
had seen garb like it in old portraits, and sometimes in books. He
was wearing a doublet, well-fitted, with long sleeves and a point
at the hem. Whether it was indeed made from velvet, or whether he
had taken the mosses which adorned his trunk and fashioned them
into the semblance of clothing, she could not tell. It was
liberally strewn with the same star-shaped flowers that decked the
base of his trunk, and more of them covered the brim of his hat.
The effect was flamboyant and rich — an effect he furthered in the
next moment by performing a grave and surprisingly graceful bow to
the company.