Peter Dickinson - Earth and Air

So what Steff was doing was no longer a silly escapade for which he’d be seriously punished if anyone found out. Suddenly it had become extremely dangerous. He’d better get out, and quick, while the man was busy and he still had time to pipe his way past the dog.

But the man was Charon the ferryman, and the river was the Styx, the first of the seven rivers of the underworld, and all around, at this very moment, unseen, unfelt, the dead were crowding the quay, begging for passage, paying him with the two coins that had been put in their mouths before they were buried.

There was some small change left from this week’s pocket money. But how . . .?

Still hesitating, Steff edged an eye round the corner to check what he was doing. As it happened the man was looking straight towards the mouth of the tunnel.

He stared for an instant, and bellowed. Automatically Steff jerked back, caught his foot, and fell. Before he could rise the man was on him. He was grabbed by the shoulders, hauled to his feet, and shaken violently back and forth, while the man continued to bellow.

“Mother of Christ, who the hell are you? And what in God’s name do you think you’re doing here, you nosy little bastard? I’ll show you!”

The man flung him back against the rock wall, grabbed him before he could fall, and began to batter him to and fro again.

“Charon?”

Winded, half-stunned, terrified, Steff wasn’t aware of deciding to say the name. It was a barely audible croak, forced out of him by the violence of his shaking. But the man paused, staring. He wasn’t much taller than Steff, but broad-shouldered, with a weather-beaten, flat, snub-nosed face and dark eyebrows that joined above his nose.

“Mother of Christ!” he said. “The boss sent you? That case, what cause you got to go sneaking around like that?”

“No . . . No . . . He didn’t . . . No one did. I’m looking for Ridiki . . . My dog.”

“So what the hell makes you think your bloody dog might be down here? Hector’s the only dog down here. Come to that, how’d you get past him without him yelling his head off? And how come you know what the boss calls me?”

“She isn’t down here—not like that. She’s dead. A snake bit her. But Ridiki’s short for Eurydice. That’s her real name. The story, you see . . . And this is Tartaros. It’s an entrance to the underworld . . .”

“And so I’m Charon. Look, kid, that was just a lucky guess. Like I said, it’s what the boss calls me, one of his jokes, because of what the mine’s called. Next thing you’ll be telling me Hector’s got three heads, and you charmed your way past him by playing him beautiful music.”

“Well, sort of. I’d brought my pipes, you see, to leave for Ridiki, but when I saw he was one of our dogs, I played him . . .”

“Hold it there. One of your dogs? You’re Deniakis? Don’t tell me you’re one of the old man’s kids? No, they’re older . . .”

“He’s my uncle.”

“Your dad was the one those bastards in Athens got?”

“That’s right.”

The man paused, thinking.

“Right,” he said. “You’re in a mess, kid, a bloody, stupid, dangerous mess you got yourself into. And by sheer fool’s luck you’ve run into the only Mentathos who’s going to get you out of it. Your dad was my wife’s childhood sweetheart. All of ten years old they must have been. Fell for each other, click!, just like that. He smuggled a puppy down to show her, let her cuddle it. And they weren’t supposed even to talk to each other; their dads would’ve flayed them if they’d heard, and they’d both got elder brothers at the school to keep them toeing the line. Year and a half they kept it up, stolen moments, couple of friends they could trust. Then her brother twigged, got up a Mentathos gang to take it out on your dad and his brother, but Deniakis—he’s your uncle now—was waiting for us with his own gang, and between us we pretty well wrecked the school. Upshot was her dad took my wife away but they smuggled letters back and forth for years.

“She told me all this before we married—I didn’t like it, of course—but she got me to understand she wasn’t in love with him, not like that. He was going to come to our wedding in disguise, bringing his wife, but his ministry sent him to America, so when our first kid was on the way she wrote to him and asked him to be a sort of secret godfather. I’d tried to talk her out of it and I tried again when he wrote back and said he’d give us one of the Deniakis dogs. I could see the sort of trouble that would cause, but she was set on the idea so I cleared it with Mentathos. Not that he liked it either, but he owed me one. He’s a hard man—hard as they come, but he pays his debts. Said OK, we could have the dog and told his men to let it alone.

“Someone didn’t listen. You saw Hector’s missing a foot. Fox trap, left deliberate. I caught the fellow that put it there. You’ll know him if you meet him. Two fingers missing on his left hand, and he can count himself lucky I left him the hand . . .”

“Rania dropped a skillet on Ridiki’s left leg—she didn’t mean to, she’s just clumsy, but it could’ve killed her.”

“Right. Anyway, that’s Hector. Best dog I ever owned, three legs or four. Took a bit of time for us to get him—Deniakis keeps count of his dogs. Your dad was dead by the time he came but a fellow called Nikos fixed it . . .”

“He helped me train Ridiki.”

“Another thing we’ve got between us, then. Now, the fellows with the mules will be up here . . . let’s see . . . bit over half an hour. Just time to get you clear.”

“But . . . but I’ve got to see Dis about Ridiki.”

“Listen, kid . . . what’s your name?”

“Steff.”

“All right, Steff. Looking at it your way, if Hector’s Cerberus and I’m Charon, then Dis is the boss down here. You absolutely do not want to see Dis. River in the underworld—isn’t that right?—fall into it and you forget everything. Same here. Fall into our river and next time anyone sees you you’ve forgotten everything all right, because you’ve been washed up in Siren’s Bay with a hole in your head might have been got by you banging it on a rock. Or maybe being banged with a rock. No, I wouldn’t put it past him. Why d’you think I beat you up the way I did? Sorry about that, but I couldn’t let you go, not after what you’d seen, and I was scared rigid what he’d do when he got his hands on you. You won’t get any sympathy out of him—you’d just as well ask old Hector . . . Wait! That’s it, Steff lad. What call d’you think Dis has to be interested in dogs? Cerberus is the one you’ve got to ask. You can do that as you’re going.”

“But . . .”

“You’ve got two choices, Steff. Either you do what I tell you, ask Hector for what you want, and then make yourself scarce, or I carry you kicking and screaming out onto the hillside and tie you up and come back for you later. Either way I’m taking a hell of a risk, trusting you not letting on to anyone. OK, your uncle would flay you if he found out, same as my wife would flay me if she found out I’d handed you over to the boss. But your uncle’s not the only one. You’re telling nobody. Got it? Nobody. Now, make up your mind.”

Steff shook his head. He couldn’t think. The man was too much for him, not just too big and too strong, but too full of adult energy and command.

“All right,” he muttered.

The man grunted and picked up his lantern.

They walked up the tunnel, side by side. Hector came in sight, lying as Steff had first seen him, but with his ears fully pricked at the sound of his master’s returning footfall. The man checked his watch again.

“Still got time for it. Just like to see Hector doing his tricks after all these years. I’ll have to tell Maria about you, any case, and I’ll lay she’ll be wanting to meet you. Ready? Pipe away, then.”