Mudi’s words about the Boatman’s intent come flooding back to me, and I tremble, remembering: “He was once a warrior, cursed to his post for murdering innocents in war. He is trying to gain his freedom by helping prevent the deaths of as many lives as he took.”

Selu holds his swirling arms over the trio who cling together, and they climb into the rickety boat with Linaza, and push off from the shore, toward me.

The boat slides near, and when it does, the man I once called the Boatman holds two rough hands out and cups my face.

“Thank you,” he whispers in his familiar voice. He lets go and they drift away down the river, and in no time at all, the boat comes back, empty of its passengers.

As I watch it dock itself at the shore, I see a speck of red, malevolent light glowing next to Selu, who has his arm held up high, summoning the wind. The rain. The thunder and lightning. He disappears in a swirling tornado as the air turns into fire and whips into a fury, blowing my hair violently all around. The water begins to rise into rough, choppy waves as the speck of light grows and grows and grows until it is the shape of a hideous woman, seven curved horns growing from her head, bloated black tongue lashing from her mouth. Alani. She screams as she wrenches herself from the depths of the seven gates, lifting her claws into the sky and pulling a chained man up from the depths. He wails in torment as he is formed from fire, formed from wind, formed from the darkness itself.

And when I look at his face, I suck in my breath.

For standing in the center of that firestorm is a man who once stole life from me. Who once wrecked my little family and hurt more people than I can even recall. Than I likely even know.

Uruku.

At once, the flames roar and Alani shrieks as Uruku stands on the riverbank, consumed with fire. His face contorts in an agonized scream, and his flesh bubbles and melts and drips from his body until there is nothing but his rattling bones left behind. He’s wrapped in chains and covered in a dark cloak, like the Boatman’s. Racked with terror, I listen as a song, as if unbidden, encircles Uruku, enslaving him to his task. With black tears falling down his bony cheeks, his breast a torment of horror, he lifts his face unwillingly to the murky sky and sings the ghostly refrain:

The river is wide

The river is deep

I take their souls to earn my keep

The end of day

Is the start of night

I bathe in horror

Bask in fright

My queen is beauty

My queen is fair

I’ll bring her souls

I’ll do my share

For the river is wide

The river is deep

I take their souls to earn my keep.