“Come aboard!” the low, raspy voice intoned. He raised the bucket.
Faeries surged forward. Charlie and Brendan joined the queue. One by one, the passengers filed onto the barge, dropping some small gold or silver trinket into the bucket as they passed the Ferryman. When Brendan had first ridden on the ferry, he had no money for passage and so had promised to repay the Ferryman with a service performed in the future. He dreaded the day when the cadaverous creature might call in that debt and determined never to be without payment for passage again. His Human grandfather, whom he could barely recall, had left Brendan a coin collection when he died. The coins were mostly silver dollars from the States and Canada. Brendan never left the house without a handful in his pocket.
He dug into his pocket and came up with a silver coin, dropping it into the bucket when his turn came. The Ferryman made no acknowledgment of the payment, merely staring into the space over Brendan’s head as he passed.
Soon everyone was aboard and the Ferryman pushed off from the pier. The barge made its way through the frozen harbour. The Island of the Ward heaved into view. Conversation among the Faeries picked up again, and soon the barge had a party atmosphere in spite of the chilling figure looming at the tiller.
Standing together in the prow, Charlie and Brendan didn’t speak. They watched the dark line of the island become more distinct as the fog thinned. Shimmering lights hung over the island, reminding Brendan of the northern lights he’d seen once on a family camping trip up north in Algonquin Park. He wondered again at the Fair Folk’s ability to hide in plain sight and marvelled at the power of their Wards and glamours.
With an unnatural abruptness, the fog ended and they came out into the open water surrounding the Faerie Terminal on the Ward’s Island. As the barge nestled up to the dock, Brendan stared in awe at the transformation of the shore. Torches lined the paths leading from the dock into the woods. The bare branches of the trees were strung with glowing crystals that flickered as they reflected the torchlight. Lesser Faeries wove in and out of the trees, immune to the bitter cold as they chased one another and called out in merry voices. Food and drink stalls erected along the path offered a bewildering variety of refreshments.
As soon as the Ferryman secured the barge, the new arrivals disembarked, many rushing to the vendors to purchase drinks or food. The rest made their way up the path. Hanging in the air with no visible means of support was a glowing sign that read FAERGROUND
An arrow pointed up the path in the direction of the Community Centre.
Brendan could hear music wafting from the centre of the island. In spite of his trepidation at the upcoming tests, he felt uplifted by the strains of the pipes, harps, and fiddles and the sound of voices raised in song.
Realizing he was standing on the barge alone save for Charlie, he shook himself and made for the dock.
As soon as their feet hit the wooden planks, the Ferryman pushed off. Brendan watched the barge drift into the mist. He wondered if the Ferryman was the same one he’d been forced to make the bargain with on the night of the Quest. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the figure raised a bony finger and pointed straight at him.
“You are remembered,” the deep voice intoned. Having delivered this message, the Ferryman and the boat were swallowed in the fog.
“What was that about?” Charlie asked, mystified.
“Long story,” Brendan muttered. “Let’s go,” he said, wishing to avoid further explanation.
They headed up the path past the food stalls, following the throngs on their way to the Gathering.
^ 55 The Matador is a decrepit old building with a red brick facade in Toronto’s West End. It has seen countless after-hours parties and is a favourite of Faeries and Humans alike because of its rich history and character. A fixture of the honky-tonk scene in Toronto, it was opened by Ann Dunn, a mother of five who needed a little extra cash. A tall Faerie in a Stetson hat has adult beverages on hand for the right price. Fortunately, the city is trying to close it down and replace it with a twenty-space parking lot. Thank goodness someone can still see the value of a good parking lot.
^ 56 Cooties, like mumps or measles, is usually a childhood affliction that renders a person undesirable to other Human Beings. In adults it can be much more serious, leading to paralysis or even death.
^ 57 Not rhyme, as in a word that sounds the same as another word, but rime, as in a crust of frozen sea water that clings to ships’ rigging in cold weather. Granted, the water was not sea water but lake water, but I like the word rime and I’m going to use it anyway. If you don’t like it, call the word police.
FAERGROUND
As soon as Brendan left the house, they’d gone into action. Delia had followed Brendan and Charlie at a safe distance. She called the others, conferencing in all three boys and telling them where Brendan was heading. She informed them when the targets had boarded the streetcar. Harold was waiting across the street from the subway station. Upon seeing Brendan and Charlie alight from the streetcar and enter the station, Harold informed Dmitri, who was waiting down on the platform. They had guessed right. Chester had said they were going to the island and that seemed to be what was happening.
In the subway the cell reception died, so they had to trust Dmitri to get on the same train without being seen and call them when Brendan got off at his destination. Dmitri wasn’t good at lying and was nervous about spying on his friend, but he convinced himself that he was doing this for Brendan. He hung back behind the newspaper kiosk and waited for Brendan and Charlie to pass. They wove their way among the holiday shoppers that clogged the station until they were halfway down the platform. Dmitri had little trouble following them in the noisy crowd without being seen.
When the train arrived, he hopped on the car next to theirs and sat down between a woman and an off-duty transit driver. Dmitri watched Brendan and Charlie through the glass door between the cars. Station after station slid past, but they didn’t budge. The pair looked serious. Sitting side by side on a bench, they didn’t speak.
As they headed south, Dmitri’s conscience started to bother him again. No matter how he tried to convince himself that he was following Brendan for his own good, he knew deep down that he was driven by relentless curiosity about the day he had lost. Whenever he thought about those missing hours, he was consumed with a longing he’d never experienced before. Inexplicably, he was certain that he had seen and done things that he needed to know about. It was as if he’d woken from a dream just at the moment when he was about to figure out what he was supposed to do, get the reward, truly understand the point of everything.
The screech of the train wheels as they rounded a corner jarred him from his reverie. The train was approaching the bottom of the U that made up the Yonge-University line, pulling into Union Station. Dmitri was sure Brendan would get off the train there. He was probably headed for the waterfront and from there to Ward’s Island. Dmitri would call Delia and Harold and tell them to head to the harbour, where Chester was on duty. They had no idea how Brendan and Charlie planned to get to the island with the lake frozen and the ferries not running. They’d just have to wait and see.
So here they were. Dmitri and Chester had followed Brendan and Charlie along the quay to the point where they’d suddenly disappeared. The fog was too thick to see them and the wharf ended.
“Where did they go?” Dmitri demanded in confusion. “They were right there ahead of us and then they were gone.”
“Tell me,” Chester said softly. “What do you see exactly?”
Dmitri frowned. “I see the boardwalk. It ends at that pole there with the red ribbon on it. Then the fog. Why? What do you see?”