Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman (37 page)

‘Here,’ she said, breathless, as she reached the driveway once
more. She took the little whistle from her reticule, thrusting the
latter heedlessly at Eliza, and blew a quick, sharp blast upon
it.

‘Oh,
dear. I hope he is not far away!’ She could only wait and pace and
hope as the moments passed, expecting any second to see some sign
that the Ferryman approached, and fearing that he could not arrive
in time.

But there. The
light of a lantern blossomed in the sky and swiftly drew closer.
She felt a familiar rush of wind as the boat approached, though she
could see little of it in the dark night sky.

‘Ferryman!’ she cried as soon as she judged the vessel had
drawn close enough. ‘I beg you, make haste!’

‘I am
here,’ he replied, though his voice was still a little distant.
Then the boat landed. A great, shining lantern hung at its prow,
illuminating the Ferryman’s tall figure standing beneath the main
sail. He stood still for a moment, and Isabel realised he was
startled. And well he might be! For she stood in her evening finery
with Eliza at hand, Balligumph nearby and a host of ball attendees
at her back, all of whom must inevitably be staring at
him.

He
soon recovered himself. ‘Up, then, an’ fast,’ he said. A gangplank
came down and Isabel hastened up it, accepting the Ferryman’s hand
and assistance as soon as she was close enough to do so. Eliza
followed directly behind, carrying Tiltager, and with Tafferty
close on her heels.

Some
few of the assembled ball-guests surged forward, and Isabel
realised the more curious among them intended to follow her. ‘Do
not let any others embark!’ Isabel cautioned.

The
Ferryman smiled down upon his audience, and quickly withdrew the
gangplank. The boat rose up at the same instant, and at speed. The
crowd of people below rapidly dwindled into miniature as Isabel
soared upwards, a high summer wind whipping at her hair. She was
left with an impression of Mr. Thompson’s face as he watched his
hoped-for bride vanish into the night skies, and then an influx of
cloaking mists obscured everything below.

‘Where is it that we’re goin’?’ said the Ferryman.

Isabel explained, as best she could, but it fell to Tiltager
to recount the tale in more detail. Isabel was relieved to find
that she was able to do so, as the little fae’s communications
could sometimes lack clarity.

‘But
if you did not take Lyrriant’s folk into Aylfenhame, how came they
there?’ she thought to ask.

‘I
did take them,’ the Ferryman replied. ‘And now I will take ye all
t’ exactly the point where I left ‘em.’

‘Oh!
That is very convenient, to be sure. You arrived so promptly that I
thought you could not have also conveyed them.’

The
Ferryman looked, remarkably, a little embarrassed. ‘Aye, well. I
‘ave been in the habit of stayin’ in yer vicinity, fer the most
part. I was already on my way back t’ the environs o’ Tilby when I
heard yer call.’

Isabel could find no words to frame the questions aroused by
this remark, but her face must have spoken for her, for he added,
‘In case ye should need me fer somethin’.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, which was inadequate, but she had not
time for more.

‘Ye’d
best hang on,’ he said. ‘Time bein’ a little short, we are goin’ to
speed up more’n a little.’

Isabel quickly sat down and tucked herself against the side
of the boat, gripping her seat as best she could. And not an
instant too soon, for the boat surged forward, and the circling
winds strengthened accordingly. She clung to her perch as the
howling currents tore at the bindings of her hair, amazed and a
little sickened by the unaccustomed sensation of violent speed.
Abruptly the alarming pace slackened, and the boat began to
descend.

‘An’
we are here. Not far from Mirramay, ye’ll be interested t’ know.’
He looked at Isabel, his brow darkening with a frown. ‘I don’t
strictly like the notion o’ ye fine ladies dashin’ into such a
place on my account, an’ wi’ naught but a leafling an’ a
catterdandy t’ attend ye.’

‘There is no time for such qualms, sir!’ Isabel cried. ‘The
attempt must be made, or I fear you will never be set at
liberty.’

‘Ye
put me in a difficult quandry.’

‘Not
at all, for it is not your decision to make.’

He
bowed his head at that. The boat settled onto solid land, and the
gangplank materialised. Eliza hastened to disembark at once, but
the Ferryman briefly detained Isabel. ‘If ye’re in luck, ye should
find Sir Guntifer somewhere below. He ‘as been standin’ watch
around Mirramay these past several days, an’ the instant I dropped
that likely lot below I sent fer ‘im. Seemed t’ me that someone
should be keepin’ an eye on them.’ The moment he had completed this
speech, he lifted a small bone-wrought horn to his lips and blew
upon it.

‘Ho,
the Ferryman!’ came Sir Guntifer’s great voice from
below.

‘An’
now I need not worry so much for ye ladies,’ said the Ferryman with
a smile.

Isabel did not wait for more. She followed her friends down
the gangplank to the ground below, unsure what she would encounter
when she arrived there. The ferry-boat’s lantern illuminated a
patch of open grassland, at the edges of which she detected the
dark, looming shadows suggestive of trees.

One
of those shadows stepped forward, and bowed to her. ‘Gentle lady,
an it please thee, I will serve as thy guide.’

‘I
would be honoured, Sir Guntifer.’ Isabel curtseyed in return,
hoping privately that the exchange of courtesies would not be
excessively drawn out.

‘Then
let us away,’ said the tree-giant, pausing only to bow to Eliza
before he turned. ‘I know well wither they have gone,’ he said
grimly, as he shed the bark of his tree shape and became a giant
complete. ‘Friends aloft have marked their passage
well.’

Isabel did not immediately reply, for a strange — but not
unfamiliar — sensation afflicted her at that instant. She felt, in
some obscure fashion, that the close attention of some hidden being
lay heavily upon her; that she was observed by someone, or
something, that she could not see. She had felt it before, after
her encounter with the trows as she had travelled to Mirramay with
Sophy. She looked about, but in the darkness she could detect
nothing that might explain the feeling.

She
had not time to dwell upon it, for her errand was too urgent. She
must trust to Sir Guntifer’s care to keep her safe, if indeed a
menace lurked in the shadows. ‘Can he have dwelt so close to
Mirramay?’ Isabel asked, as she hastened to keep pace with the
giant.

‘It
is strange indeed, but it doth appear so. Where better, in sooth,
to prey upon Their Majesties than from close by? If a man hath the
nerve for such effrontery, and such risk, then much may be won by
it.’

Isabel was doubtful, not least because it did not appear
possible to her that the Kostigern’s dwelling-place could have been
so well-hidden if it lay within such a short distance of Mirramay.
She did not know how far from that city they were, precisely, for
everything seemed strange to her in the dark; she did not even know
if she had passed this way before. They arrived at a road, and
followed it for a few scant minutes. An occasional lantern hung by
the wayside, casting a bright light over the road, but everything
upon either side of it remained shrouded in darkness.

Sir
Guntifer swerved abruptly left, and Isabel hurried to follow. A
narrow path led away from the main thoroughfare and into a small
wood. They left the lights of the road-lanterns behind, and for a
few suffocating moments all was darkness. But Sir Guntifer whistled
a lively little melody, and motes of golden light began to wink
into being over her head. Fireflies, she realised.

Their aid was not
long required, for soon the silence of the wood was broken by the
sounds of raised voices coming from somewhere up ahead. Lights
bobbed among the trees, growing larger and brighter as Isabel drew
nearer. They came from lamps held in Ayliri hands, she soon
realised, as she discerned the shadowy figures of tall, graceful
forms darting amongst the trees ahead.

Then a stronger
light blazed into being; not white and clear like the lanterns, but
fierce and orange.

Fire.

‘We
are too late!’ she cried in dismay.

‘Stay
a moment,’ cautioned Sir Guntifer, as they came to the edge of a
clearing amongst the trees. Isabel could barely make out the
looming shape of a house up ahead. She could discern little of its
details in the darkness, but it did not appear to her that it was a
dwelling much out of the ordinary. It was not especially large, and
perhaps only three storeys high. It bore an air of neglect, but it
was neither an interesting ruin nor a building of unusual
character. This, then, was how the Kostigern had contrived to live
within such easy reach of the Royal City: He had hidden himself in
ordinariness.

The orange light
of the fire shone through one of the windows upon the ground floor.
As Isabel watched, the fire spread; soon two, and then three and
four windows blazed with the fierce light.

She
was seized by a sudden wild urge to run forward; to find a way into
those parts of the building left unburned, and somehow wrest from
it the secret of the Ferryman’s name. But she was not so mad. She
did not require the restraining influence of her aunt’s hand laid
upon her arm.

‘It
is a great pity, indeed,’ said Eliza, ‘but you must not endanger
yourself! The Ferryman could not wish it of you.’

Isabel could not
answer. Her own helplessness choked her, and a sense of despair
robbed her of words. She had no other means of determining his
name. Every endeavour had failed, and where could she now turn? She
felt a surge of anger at Lyrriant and all his folk, they who
flitted here and there in the night, burning away the last hope she
had of setting her friend at liberty.

Then
Lyrriant appeared out of the darkness. His hair was a wild mess,
and his face was smudged with something that could have been soot.
‘You need not have come,’ he said. His tone lacked warmth, though
it also lacked the anger Isabel might have expected him to feel
upon finding her there. ‘I have searched this foul place. No trace
of the name you seek did I find.’

‘Did
you?’ Isabel demanded. She did not know that she could trust him to
search at all, or to search thoroughly if he had. What, after all,
was the Ferryman’s fate to him?

‘I
did,’ he said, a hint of ice creeping into his tone. ‘I have no
love for the Ferryman, but nor do I bear him any ill-will. If his
name had been here, I would have discovered it.’ He did not pause
to hear her reply, but melted away into the night.

Tears
pricked at Isabel’s eyes. The Ferryman’s manner had been calm
enough, but she did not think she had imagined the sense of
contained excitement — and hope — that she had sensed from him. Now
she must return to him with the news that she had once again
failed.

Then the sensation of close scrutiny deepened, and she knew
she was watched indeed — she had not imagined it. A presence
materialised at her back, so silently that she had heard no one
approach. A voice whispered in her ear, or perhaps in her
mind.
I admire your perseverance, my
lady.

Isabel whirled around, and saw no one. ‘Who is that?’ she
demanded.

She was answered by a soft chuckle.
I
have been watching you.

Isabel’s skin prickled, and her heart beat faster. Someone
had been following
her? ‘Who are you?’ she
demanded.

I know
the name you seek.

She took two seconds to absorb that
statement, her
heart beating quicker still with excitement and hope — and fear.
‘I do not know who you are,’ she said warily.
‘But if you can help me, I beg that you will.’

Why
should I do so?

Eliza
was staring at her, as was Sir Guntifer. Could they, then, not hear
the words that sounded so clearly in Isabel’s ears? She had not
time to explain. ‘Oh, because the Ferryman’s fate is so cruel!’ she
said desperately. ‘Any who know him must know that he suffers
unfairly! And he has suffered long indeed!’

Are
you so certain that he has not merited his punishment?

‘Yes,’ said Isabel, without an instant’s hesitation. ‘I am
certain of it. And I will not rest until I have freed
him.’

Silence,
stretching so long that Isabel began to fear that the presence,
whoever it was, had gone away. Her heart pounded so hard, she
feared it might break within her.

There
must be some payment.

‘Yes!’ Isabel said, willing to grasp at anything so long as
she received the information she sought. ‘Payment will be made, in
any form that you could wish.’

I will require a favour in return,
said the voice.
Do you promise it,
when I should come to claim it?

‘I
promise it!’

A name was
whispered to her. It was a long name, and ornate, but she felt that
it fitted the Ferryman somehow.