Sean Cullen - The Prince of Two Tribes

I’m just one person, though. What can one person do to make any difference in the world?

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked, breaking his reverie.

He’d been trying to avoid being alone with Charlie today. He wasn’t sure why. He still felt awkward about their moment in his dad’s studio. Now, with his parents gone and his sister out of the room, there was nowhere else to look.

“Yeah,” Brendan mumbled. “Nervous about the Gathering and the tests and everything.”

Charlie nodded. “Nothing else?”

Brendan looked up into her blue eyes and his stomach flipped a bit. “No. Not really.”

Charlie laughed. “You are such a terrible liar, Brendan. That’s one of the reasons I like you so much. Are you ready to go?”

“I think so. Let me get BLT.” Grateful for an excuse, he ran up the hall and mounted the stairs. Charlie watched him go. As soon as she was alone, her shoulders sagged. A tortured look twisted her face.

Footsteps on the stairs forced her to recover her smile. She expected to see Brendan and was surprised when Delia rounded the corner, dressed to go out, ski jacket in hand. On seeing Charlie, she stopped. For a second Delia’s face held a look of undisguised wariness, but it was immediately replaced with a smile.

“Oh,” Delia said. “Hi!”

“Allo, Delia,” Charlie said. “What are you doing tonight? Party?”

“Yeah,” Delia said, a guarded look in her eyes.

Brendan returned, pulling on his jacket. “Ready to go?” Seeing Delia, he said, “Hey, Dee.” Suddenly, impulsively, he reached out and hugged his sister. Delia stiffened as if he’d zapped her with a Taser gun. Brendan let her go. Delia stared at him blankly and then spun, ducking out the door into the gathering darkness without another word.

“Wow.” Brendan laughed. “I guess that’s one way to get rid of her. Or maybe I have cooties.”

“Cooties?”^ 56 Charlie asked, confused.

“Never mind. Shall we go?”

“All right.”

Brendan insisted that they ride the streetcar and the subway to the waterfront and walk the last block through the frigid air. A light fog had congealed over the lake, casting an eerie, otherworldly glow upon the condo towers and throwing golden haloes around the street lamps. Brendan knew the fog was part of the glamour woven to distract Humans from the Clan Gathering on the island. Though unnatural, it gave the concrete buildings a spectral loveliness and made the coloured Christmas lights strung in the trees shimmer with magic.

“Christmas,” Charlie said as they reached the Harbourfront complex, a cluster of shops, restaurants, and concert venues clumped around the ferry docks and the small boat marina. In winter there was a skating rink. “It’s a Human celebration of the older Faerie Festival of the Solstice. They have adopted many of our customs without knowing any of the truth behind the day.”

“They have their own reasons to celebrate,” Brendan said defensively. “Just because they don’t know about us and our world doesn’t mean their holidays don’t have value on their own.”

“I know. I wasn’t criticizing.”

“Sorry,” Brendan mumbled. He was on edge.

They passed through packs of people looming out of the fog. Humans were enjoying the deep freeze as best they could, bundled up against the cold and sipping from paper cups of hot chocolate and cider. Some carried skates slung over their shoulders or hanging from hockey sticks as they made their way to the open-air rink by the water. Brendan envied their happiness and wondered if he’d ever feel as comfortable in his life as these people did in theirs. Certainly, they had worries, but they knew what they were and who they were. Brendan hoped he might have that kind of simplicity in his life again one day.

Faeries, too, mingled among their Human cousins, making their way to the Ward’s Island for the Clan Gathering. They flared like torches among the throngs of Humans in Brendan’s Faerie Sight. The Fair Folk were in good spirits, some of them a bit tipsy as they made their way to the Faerie Terminal. The Faerie Terminal was at the end of a pier at the foot of the quay. Only a small piece of red cloth fluttering on the top of a pole indicated its existence. Faeries walked past the flag and disappeared into a denser fog. Humans who approached the same threshold paused and then walked back the way they had come.

Brendan and Charlie passed the pole and found themselves in a dense crush of Fair Folk huddled together on the pier. Brendan had never seen so many Faeries in one place before. The Swan was always full of Faerie clientele, but this was more like a Faerie convention. They were a diverse crowd, too. Skin colours varied from pale like Brendan’s to brown, golden, or deep red, but there were more unnatural hues as well. Brendan saw several with blue skin, some with green, and one with frosty silver.

Their costume also ran from the traditional kimono to high-fashion couture and everything in between. Brendan felt very plain in his parka, jeans, and hoodie.

“Is this ’im, then?” A Faerie with a thick Cockney accent sloshed a can of beer as he pointed at Brendan. “The one oo’s got to be Proved?”

“I guess that’s me,” Brendan affirmed. The Faerie smelled quite strongly of the ale he’d been imbibing. He wore a red ball cap back to front and had a glow stick dangling from a string around his neck.

He squinted at Brendan and laughed. “A lot of trouble fer such a runt!” A gust of beery breath wafted into Brendan’s face.

“Leave off, ’Enry!” A female Faerie jabbed the drinker in the ribs with an elbow. “’E don’t need you slobberin’ all over ’im.” Henry’s companion was a robust-looking Faerie in a miniskirt and tube top with a sparkly jacket thrown over her shoulders. Her massive blond bouffant threatened to topple as she teetered on ridiculous stiletto heels. “’E ain’t ’alf cute, neither.”

“Wha’evs,” Henry grunted. “Where is the Ferryman? Opening ceremony’s in ’alf an hour and I could use the toilet.”

“Oo, me too. I definitely gotta take a slash.”

“’Spose we could walk?”

“Across the ice? In these ’eels? Are you daft?”

They wandered away arguing.

A bell rang in the fog and the pier quieted slightly. All the Faeries turned to face the lake. Out of the mist a shadow loomed, eventually resolving into the broad prow of a barge. Brendan was amazed to see that the frozen surface of the lake flowed like water around the vessel. The boat slowed and bumped into the pier with a dull, ominous thud. All the Faeries fell completely silent as a figure strode out from the foggy deck.

The Ferryman was tall and thin. Only his chin was visible beneath the yellow rain hat he wore. The hat’s brim was crusted with rime.^ 57 An oilskin coat and heavy Wellington boots crackled with frost as he moved toward the dockside. He took up his place with one foot on the barge and the other on the pier, a wooden bucket dangling from his bony fist.

“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.