Jim fidgeted with his cap as we slowly glided through the Canal. It was a new addition to his wardrobe, one that had been added after he accepted membership with the ferrymen guild. Guild wasn’t the exact word for it, but they hadn’t actually given a name for themselves and it functionally fit.

Joining up with the ferrymen had not been one of the ideas I had suggested to Jim when he had asked me. Getting beaten up by their thugs had left me with a poor opinion of them, and there were so many other options available to Jim to take going forwards. What I had forgotten was the same qualities Jim possessed that got him into this mess in the first place. He was a young teenager, and had no idea how to lose gracefully. His stubbornness with the spokesperson had earned him a beating, and his stubbornness now meant that he wasn’t about to let them go about their business without him doing something in response.

When I had tried to point out his lack of ability or knowledge to create said response, my words had fallen on deaf ears. All Jim had heard was that he needed to know more about the ferrymen, and then he decided the best way to get that information was to join them for a time.

Seeing the inevitable writing on the wall, I had simply asked that he take the time to tell his father what was happening. The conversation took place inside their house where I couldn’t overhear anything, but Jim’s steps walking back towards me had been lighter, and he hadn’t said anything about changing up his plans.

Which led us to today. With Jim providing his own boat, and with an agreement that a portion of his earnings would be passed on to the guild, the leaders accepted him into their ranks with little fanfare. A few people knew enough to comment on his recent attitude adjustment, but they seemed to harbor no ill will for him.

I was more conflicted. On one hand, I had personal experience with getting beaten up in a back alley. On the other, not only did they give us ample warnings before moving on to the physical, but I could see their reasoning from an economic standard. Much like a union, if everyone was willing to stick to their rules and charge the same prices, their customers would have no choice but to pay. If the rowers could charge what they wanted, then it would quickly turn into a race towards the bottom, where prices would drop far lower than they would otherwise. As a civil engineer I had worked with multiple unions in the construction business, and understood the value that they could bring, as well as the distaste that they generated for people who didn’t fall in line. I still didn’t like their actions, but I could at least sympathise with them.

Jim didn’t have that history, but part of his initiation to the group was to have an older ferryman explain these lessons to him.

“Now you’ll want to make sure that you always take at least five minutes to get your customer home. Doesn’t matter if they’re literally just across the way. You stall as long as you need to take up that extra time. Along the same lines, always charge at least three silver for a trip. Charge more if you can, but three silver is a good amount of value for both us and our customers, and your customers are more likely to pay that price if their journey is at least five minutes.”

“Isn’t that cheating our customers? Making them pay for something they don’t need?” Jim asked. The old timer just chuckled at his naivety.

“If all you were promising was to get them home, then it would be. But since you’re part of the ferrymen that means that you can guarantee your trip will be safe and comfortable , not to mention reliable. You’ll have to work hard at it, but There’s a promise that any ferryman can deliver customers anywhere they want in the city, without needing their customers yammering away at them the whole time. For example, how would you get my mother from here to The Quietest Bench?”

Jim thought that over for a second, before offering up his answer. “Row westward till I hit the big one, take that south most of the way towards the ocean, and then another hop west to reach the park?” It was phrased as half of a question, but the old man didn’t seem to mind.

"Not wrong yet. What trouble spots will you have to keep an eye out for on the way?”

“Trouble spots?”

“Two kinds of trouble spots. People trouble and boat trouble. People trouble is bad ends, street kids, the like. Boat trouble is where there’s a lot of traffic and you’ll need to be careful to avoid collisions or simply getting your passengers splashed by wayward wakes. You’ve got a decent grasp of the layout of the city, but I’ll be working with you to make sure that you truly understand the waterways.

“Yes sir!” Jim said. He tried to hide it, but I could tell that he didn’t like not having all the answers that the mentor wanted from him. Part of that was his well-hidden dislike of the gang. The other part was that everything the guild did manage to teach him was another point in their favor, that he hadn’t been ready to play ferryman for the shoppers.

“You’ve got a good steady stroke there, that’ll serve you well. Too many newcomers put all their energy into the pull, and everything gets unsteady as they lose control of their craft. You've been doing this long?”

Jim gulped. “Just talent, I guess.”

“Hmmph. Talent won’t get you far by itself. I see you drifting off there. Pay attention to me while I try and squeeze the knowledge you need into that thick skull of yours.

“Hey!” Jim protested, but the old salt ignored him as he started up on yet another lecture.

Despite the minor verbal abuse, Jim did try to listen to what his mentor had to say as we rowed all around the city. I listened in as well, but most of the cues were visual ones, and ‘keeping an eye out for the blue house’ didn’t really help me much. Instead I focused on memorizing the canals as best as I could, keeping an eye out for landmarks that I could recognize and trying to keep track of my absolute position even as the canals twisted and turned.

It was a tired Jim that said goodbye at the end of the day, and we both listened and waited as the old man stumped off towards a nearby bar, probably to drink and complain about ‘youth these days’.

Jim spoke up once we were alone. “That wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.”

“I told you. You don’t have to be a bad person to do bad things, just have to have enough reason. Might make sense or might not.”

“Yeah, but having a good reason doesn’t make you good, either.” Jim argued back, before starting to climb out of the boat himself.

“I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked, just to confirm the plans that we had already made.

“Yeah. I’ll be back bright and early.” He confirmed before walking away, heading the considerable distance it would take to get back to his house and the comfy bed waiting there for him.

After all, I wasn't anchored in my normal spot, in a run-down dock by his house. I was tied up in the headquarters of the ferrymen, all the better to hear what they got up to when they thought no one else was listening.

It was time to see what this group of people were truly like.