"For another customer to come long?"

"As you say."

"And how long do you usually have to wait for a rider to appear?"

"I wait until I am called upon."

"So, you may wait ten days or ten years. You don't really know?"

"There are no days or years to contend with, here," Charon said, quietly.

"Right, I forgot. So, you just travel from one side of the river to the other, back and forth, forever?"

"That is correct."

"Sorry, but that seems a rather dull existence."

"It is my purpose."

"I see," David said, although he didn't, really. "So, they must keep you pretty busy, then. The dead, I mean. Making all these trips back and forth. Forever."

"Not as much as they once did," Charon admitted, then seemed to sigh. "I can recall when there would be a line stretching back into the shadows, waiting for me on the just quitted shore. I would ferry six of the dead at once and come back for another six, over and over again. Back then, it seemed a never ending task, but eventually the numbers lessened as fewer and fewer of the dead required my services."

"Why is that, do you suppose?"

Once again, the thin shoulders rose and fell beneath the robe. "Beliefs change. Humans grow tired of the same religion and the same gods if they do not receive frequent evidence of their continued existence."

"A loss of faith, perhaps?"

"That is possible."

David nodded and was quiet for a few moments, thinking about Charon's fate and what, if anything he could do to change it. Finally, he looked down at the water and asked, "Where does this river go?"

Charon's head tilted, slightly. "I do not understand."