speak as if you will never get the chance.'
Azif shrugged but offered no reply. Instead he glanced up at the heavens. 'We must turn slightly more northwards. It will be dawn very shortly, and it is still more than five leagues to Deadferry. We must be there by sunrise, otherwise...'
'Otherwise?' asked A'Veil.
'Well, the best that can happen is that we will be delayed by a day.'
'And the worst?'
Azif smiled sadly at the Maid. 'It is better if you do not know, my lady.'
'Hang on!' exclaimed Anyx. 'Just hang on one minute! If there's danger ahead then I for one would rather know about it.' He looked over to Will and A'Veil who both nodded in agreement.
'Very well,' said Azif. 'But we must make haste. I will explain as we ride.' He kicked his horse on and the Maid and Will did likewise with their mounts in order to keep pace. 'Deadferry is a holy place to my people,' Azif began once the other two horses had caught up. 'Directly north of the river is an area whose name translates roughly as the Realm of the Departed. It is where my people bury the mortal remains of the deceased.'
'So, what you're saying is we're rushing towards to a great bloody graveyard?' asked Anyx.
'In essence, yes,' the Moor agreed. 'But in order to get there we must cross the river at Deadferry. There we will meet the Ferryman.'
'Oh,' said the dwarf, relieved. 'Okay. That doesn't sound too menacing. But hang on, none of us have got any cash,' he pointed out. 'How are we going to pay the Ferryman?
'You don't pay the Ferryman. You don't even set a price.'
'Why have I suddenly got a bad feeling about this?'
'Let me explain,' Azif offered. 'It is our belief that when a person dies the soul leaves the body immediately and is transported to Paradise, providing, of course, they have led a virtuous life. Thus the shell of the body is left behind.'
Anyx nodded.
'But if the person has been deceitful,' the Moor continued, 'lacking virtue, disrespectful-'
'Downright bad, you mean?'
Azif smiled at the dwarf's phrasing. 'Indeed. If the person has been downright bad, as you say, then the soul does not journey to Paradise. Instead it remains trapped inside the husk of the body. The body is then given to the Ferryman. If the body is soul-less then the Ferryman will transport the body, across the River Syx, to the Realm of the Departed and the burial can take place with all due honour.'
'Okay. But what about if there is a soul?' asked Anyx, although he probably already knew the answer.
The Infidel nodded in recognition of the dwarf's perspicacity. 'If the Ferryman detects the presence of a soul then he will sail not to the other side of the River. Instead he will turn his craft downstream and throw the body over the Cataracts of the Damned. The body, battered and broken by the waterfalls, is eventually washed out to sea. But however battered the body may be it still acts as a prison to the soul, and therefore the soul can never reach Paradise.'
'Bloody hell.'
'Yes, quite literally.'
Anyx considered this, but it was Will who asked the pertinent question. 'But what if the body still happens to be alive?'
Azif halted his horse. 'The Ferryman cannot tell the difference between the living and the dead,' he informed his companions gravely. 'He merely detects the presence of the soul, or the lack thereof, and acts accordingly.'
'But, Azif, that means that once we get onto the ferry-' A'Veil started.
The Moor finished her sentence for her. 'Yes, my lady. He will detect the presence of our souls and presume we have all led wasteful, evil lives. Thus, it will be the Cataracts that will be our fate.'
The was a momentary silence as everyone contemplated this.
'Can't we simply overpower him?' asked Will eventually.
Azif shook his head. 'The Ferryman is not of this world,' he explained. 'He is neither flesh nor blood; rather a creature from another place, and he is, unfortunately for us, about as powerful a being as any that walks the land.'
'So what are we going to do?' asked Anyx.
Azif gave an enigmatic smile. 'It is quite simple,' he said. 'I am going to fight him.'
'No!' A'Veil cried. 'From what you've just said, well... he'll kill you.'
The Moor nodded. 'Perhaps. Yet there is no other way,' he said softly.
'No,' protested Anyx, 'of course there must be another way.'
'I have made my decision, little one, and we have no time for a debate. Indeed, we need to make haste.' He pulled his hood tightly around his head, purposely pre-empting any further conversation, and kicked his horse forward.
83
As they came closer to the river and its fertile, live-giving properties, the scrubland gave way to brushland and soon thick woodland. Regular floods lent the land hereabouts a fecundity that was lacking elsewhere in the region. Yet still there was the disturbing absence of any sort of birdsong...
They were slowed a little by the presence of the well-established trees, but presently they came to a large clearing where they stopped. Up above the stars had faded and there was the hint of daybreak in the sky. The clearing, it turned out, was Deadferry, which was no more than a handful of ramshackle hovels crowded together some way from the river. It was if the inhabitants wanted to put as much distance between themselves and the rushing waters as they possibly could. Then, at second glance, it became apparent that the place was deserted. Whoever had once lived there had long since gone and, Anyx mused, he could hardly blame them - the Ferryman could hardly be the ideal neighbour. 'Beings Not From This World' could be notoriously difficult, especially when it came to keeping the laurel bushes trimmed to a decent height or keeping the music turned down...
There was a track beyond the hamlet that obviously ran down towards the river with an innocuous sign next to it declaring 'This Way to the Ferry'.
Azif had not spoken for the last half-hour but now he turned to the others. 'You must listen to me carefully. It seems that we are fortunate in that there are no burial parties here today. Nowadays such parties have to travel great distances and Deadferry is not as busy as it once was.'
'So now's probably not the time to go into the soul-detecting business then, huh?' asked Anyx in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.
'Indeed not, little one,' Azif acknowledged. 'I suggest that, for the time being, you remain in the god-reviving business... Anyway, it is time for me to go forward and challenge the Ferryman.' He paused, as if hesitant to continue. He gave A'Veil a sardonic smile. 'You were correct in your assessment, my lady; I have no chance of defeating him and there can only be one possible outcome.'
'Azif, you can't do this' the Maid protested, tears threatening her eyes.
The Moor reached over to give A'Veil's hand a squeeze. 'Be brave, my lady.' He turned to Anyx and Will. 'The Ferryman must come up onto the land to fight me,' he explained. 'All I can hope to do is delay the inevitable for as long as possible. This will enable you to hijack the ferry and proceed to the far bank.'
'But how?' asked the dwarf.
'You punt,' replied the Moor evenly.
'There's no need for that,' the dwarf responded.
'He means you use a big stick,' said Will. 'But Azif,' he continued, 'are you absolutely sure there's no other way?'
Azif shook his head. 'No, my friend. This is the only option available to us, I assure you. Now I shall go.' He jumped from his horse, and patted his mount on its neck. 'Unfortunately you will have to leave the horses,' he advised, 'but Old Horse Gorse is only two hours on foot from here. Just head due west from the northern bank of the river, keeping the sun behind you.' He turned to go. 'Wait two minutes,' he said over his shoulder, 'and then follow me. I will draw the Ferryman as far away from his vessel as I am able, but you will not have much time.' He stopped and turned to face his friends. 'You must be quick yet use stealth. Do not allow him to capture you or you can be sure of what will happen. Once you are mid-stream you will be safe. Strangely the Ferryman cannot swim.'
'Azif,' Anyx
shouted, a thought suddenly occurring to him. 'Should you die, the Ferryman will have no boat. How will your soul reach paradise?'
'I don't know, little one. And who's to say I deserve a place in Paradise, anyway?'
Anyx shook his head. He was surprised to find a lump in his throat. 'If I'm any judge, you are a good man, he said simply.
Azif gave a small bow of acknowledgement. 'Thank you for that, dwarf.' And with that Azif strode out to meet his fate. He soon reached a bend in the track and was quickly out of view.
84
Robin woke up late; he'd forgotten to ask for an alarm call after all the farcical goings on of the previous evening.
It was already fully light, but there didn't seem to be any sound of movement from any of the other of the Merrie Men. Not that that surprised Robin for rousing them was usually like trying to wake the dead - quite apt really considering their current quest. No doubt it would be up to him to kick their sorry arses out of bed...
He cursed himself for over-sleeping but there was bugger all he could do about it now, he'd just have to speed through his ablutions; ordinarily he'd be quite leisurely in getting himself ready.
The chamber to which he had been appointed was apparently en-suite. This meant that suspended from a wire stretched across the corner of the room there had been slung a threadbare, greying blanket, behind which were two buckets, one full to the brim with ice cold water and the other empty. For a moment he wondered what the empty bucket was for then suddenly he realised. Disgusting, he thought, these new-fangled indoor toilets.
He quickly washed in the cold water, ran his fingers through his hair and pulled on his boots - the only items of clothing he had bothered to remove the previous night - before going to round up the rest of the men. He had to kick Ron awake but Grub and Lott were, by now, up and about. Dr Dosodall, who had actually slept alongside Annabel in the stables, was also ready to go, even if he couldn't exactly be described as wide awake. But, then again, he was rarely wide awake; slightly broader than narrow awake was usually just about the best he could manage. There were giant sloths in the jungles of the far south who, in Robin's opinion, when compared to the doctor, were the very epitome of energy and vivacity.
So, ready to embark there was only now the small matter of settling the bill with Mr. Pants.
'Good morning, sir,' said Mr. Pants, rubbing his hands obsequiously. 'And how did you sleep?'
'Lying down, as usual,' replied Robin, not really wanting to get into any sort of conversation with Mr. Pants. Instead he came quickly to the point. 'How much do we owe you?' he asked.
'Let me check. As a matter of fact that's four double en-suite rooms at 1 shilling each.'
Robin nodded.
'And stabling at a florin.'
'Agreed.'
Mr Pants licked the nib of his quill leaving upon his tongue a blot of blue ink, which, for some reason, reminded Robin of a Deaths-head Hawk-moth. 'And did you use the mini bar at all, sir?' he asked.
'Mini bar?'
'Yes, there was a bucket of ice cold water provided for your refreshment, sir, as a matter of fact.'
'That was for drinking?'
'Yes sir.'
'I thought it was for washing.'
'Washing? At those prices? What a strange idea,' said Mr. Pants. 'Each to their own, I suppose. You see allsorts working in the hospitality industry, I can tell you-'
Two words immediately jumped into Robin's head. 'What exactly do you mean by those prices?' he asked.
Mr. Pants ignored the question. 'So I'm right in presuming that you did indeed use the water.'
'Well... yes.'
'And any of the others, sir?'
'I doubt it. Ron, for example, hasn't had a wash since his seventeenth birthday.'
'Ah, that would explain it. I thought the sceptic tank had sprung a leak. But anyway, that's one bucket of ice cold mountain spring water at two and a half shillings.'
'Two and a half shillings! I could get a barrel of Mudbucket's for 2