The Ferryman Pentalogy

The ferryman turned to face her and she quickly looked away, as if an owl had suddenly focused on her in the dark. Now that they had reached the trunk of the river he had relaxed the intensity of his rowing to a more casual pace, and was allowing the current to do most the work. (She didn't dare risk activating the ring now!) Instead she looked at the floorboards, and after a few moments, remembered the book lying next to her. She reached toward it habitually, but froze when the raven cawed loudly and its red beam fell upon the back of her hand.

Shekalane looked at him with something akin to pity. "You speak as if Ursathrax were a person. A lover, perhaps." Jamais laughed. "I suppose that's true. It is the hallmark of lonely people, to anthropomorphize. They do it to their pets quite frequently. But that is just one of her secrets...for while not a person same as you or I, she is, I believe, sentient. She is self-aware. Surely you have felt it, on those days when the leaves of the trees rustle even though there is no wind? She is alive...."

He picked up one of the fur coats and helped her into it, then stroked the hair next to her temple, laying his head slowly back against the pillows. He gazed up at the gondola's steel ferro (which loomed above them for the ship was right behind him and the flat-bottomed boat's prow rested well above the waterline), and said, "Take hold of my ship's ferro, Shekalane. And hold on tightly." She looked at the great black and gold ferro, which pointed like a scimitar at the ceiling of the cavern, and its comb of seven tines, six pointing forward and one back, then back at Dravidian.

"The hologram faded away and a silence fell over the glade as Dravidian reseated himself upon the rock. Sthulhu remained respectfully silent. In his mind's eye Dravidian saw Pepperlung on the deck of their great dragger, The Vorpal Gladio, saw him glance over his shoulder at the prefect as his tone became grave: 'Beware, Dravidian. The bride is just sightseeing but Asmodeus is here for you. You are the only ferryman up for elevation this year. Watch yourself. There will be a test, surely.'"

"You know me to be a ferryman", I said, pushing the circlet up and over my forehead. "How?" "Why, by taking one look at you, that's how! You've no mask, that much is true, nor have you a scythe, as I've said...you've the cloak, all right, but that can be purchased at even the lowliest of costume shops; I've one just like it in my wagon here, in fact. No, this is something in the face itself. It's an aura." He paused, appraising me coldly. "You've the heart of a ferryman."