The bone folk’s ownership of the rivers hadn’t been disputed in Hilario’s memory.
Now he knew why.
Attacking my passengers is a no, no, the Riverman said, I provide safe passage. What happens when you get off my boat, I don’t care.
“My apologies again, sir,” Hilario said, “I apologize for the Sapphire Witch’s disrespect.”
Don’t care about apologies, the Riverman said, You get your folk into your little box with wheels. Your destination’s coming up.
Destination?
Hilario’s chest tightened. He’d completely forgotten about their destination. What with the defilement of his van and the back stabbing and the hordes of flying ogres and all.
The Ice Realm.
Where the Sapphire Witch had sent Rachel.
44
The silver barge slowly rolled toward the dock that extended from the gray wall of mist. Great gouts of steam rose up where river met eternally descending glacier ice. The steam softened the sulfur stench of the river. Made it smell only slightly less horrible than a room full of flatulent goblins.
It was hard to see anything through the steam, but here and there Hilario glimpsed stretches of smooth, gray rock.
A nice change from the jagged black stone of the gem witch realm.
He had felt the change when they crossed over into a new realm. The silver barge, steered by the boney river man at the stern, had come upon a wall of fog that stretched as far as the eye could see. A boundary from one realm to another.
The barge had nosed into the fog bank and immediately he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. A weight he hadn’t even realized was there.
He’d been waiting for the next hammer to drop. The next horde of ogres to pop out of nowhere. The next expectedly unexpected horrible thing to happen.
Not that the Ice Realm was going to be any better.
For one thing, it was going to be cold. Because of, well, all that ice and general coldness.
He wasn’t a cold weather fan. No one was ever going to find him at the top of a snowy peak with sticks strapped to his feet.
Nope, wasn’t going to happen.
He tore his gaze away from the steaming vista beyond the windshield. In the passenger seat the extra ghostly image of Larry Sparrow sat, frozen like a faded photograph. His mouth open, his eyes wide. Still seeing the horde of ogres blast over the ridge.
Or maybe something else.
He could barely see the ghost of his friend. Just the faintest outline of his features and a slight blue glow to the air.
He glanced at the rearview mirror. The other passengers he could see just fine.
Unfortunately.
He had tried to convince the river man to let him leave the Sapphire Witch, Queezleyan and Odom on the barge. Or at least the Sapphire Witch.
Forget it, clown, the river man said, I don’t take deadheads. The Ice Realm is as far as they go. This trip, anyhow.
So, he and Roger the ogre had maneuvered the stiff, frozen non-corpses into the back of the van. Which was a lot more difficult than it sounded. Especially for Odom, who was still stuck in his heroic pose with his sword extended. He didn’t exactly make a compact package.
Fortunately Roger was quite strong for a runty ogre, and was able to wrest the sword from Odom’s muscled hand.
After a bit of debate, they decided to stack the Sapphire Witch at the bottom of the pile of creature cordwood in the back of the van. They lay Odom on top of her in hopes that his weight would as least slow down the expression of her wrath when she finally woke up.
Queezleyan, Hilario folded back up into his bloodwood box.
Detective Marco got propped in the corner behind the passenger seat. Hopefully safe from whatever thrashing was going to occur when the Sapphire Witch and Odom awoke.
Roger the ogre popped his head over the side of the van. His face hung upside down by the driver’s side window. Hilario had a brief flash back to the lovely Lady Alexandrite.
How nice it would to be back in her cotton candy scented keep.
At least until the dark lords armies boiled over the horizon.
“Oy, clowns,” Roger said, “We’s closes nows. Suggests your makes your ponies goes fastes. Thens jumps.”
Roger had refused to get into the van. The ogre insisted on riding on top, saying he didn’t want to be in a metal box with a gem witch and a paladin when they woke up from an enforced nap.
Hilario didn’t disagree with him. Plus the van had enough funky odors inside it already without Roger’s rotten cabbage ogre stench.
The bow of the barge nosed up to the long, stone dock. It touched with a light thump that send a shudder through the van. Or maybe that was just fear sending shivers through him.
Probably both.
Good luck, clown, the river man said in Hilario’s mind, I’d keep to the path, if I were you.
If Hilario had any choice in the matter, he’d be back home in his little house with his feet up and the TV on.
His stomach rumbled plaintively.
Oh, yes, and Butter Brickle ice cream, too.
Time to go, the river man said.
Hilario turned the key. The van’s engine rattled to life. It coughed and grumbled until he gave it a little gas. Then it purred like a kitten.
No, of course it didn’t. It rattled and coughed and grumbled, only at a higher pitch.
But at least it didn’t stop running.
With great reluctance he put the van in gear. Gave one more worried look at the rearview mirror. Then pulled the van to the front of the barge. He held his breath as the front wheels thumped onto the wide, stone dock.
The van’s suspension creaked and groaned as the back
