Part 2 (2/2)
”I've never heard of him, I fear. Has he been in town long?”
”I don't know. But-”
”These things you purchase for him, Maid Sybil, they're most unusual. Just between us what does does he do with them?” he do with them?”
Odo moved uneasily on Sybil's shoulder, his talons digging into her.
”I know nothing of such matters, Mistress Weebly,” returned Sybil in haste. ”I'm but Master's house drudge, there to moil his filth and cook his swill.”
”Are you his only servant?”
”I am, Mistress.”
”And is your Master Thorston young or old?”
Sybil, feeling she was losing control of the conversation, whispered, ”Very old.”
”Alas,” said the apothecary, ”advanced age and illness oft step the dance of death. Is he near his end?”
”Oh ... no ... I a.s.sure you-”
”But you did say he was sick. Perhaps I can provide useful physic.”
Sybil hardly knew what to say.
”Maid Sybil,” pressed the apothecary, ”I must say this: within my little head lingers a lengthy list of your master's requests: fire-lizard's tail, hairs from a Manx cat's tail, unicorn tears-among other such oddments. Pray now,” said the little woman, leaning forward in conspiratorial fas.h.i.+on, ”could he be dabbling in the alchemic arts-making gold?”
”Please, Mistress,” whispered Sybil in great alarm, ”I a.s.sure you, I know nothing of such things.”
Mistress Weebly, enjoying Sybil's discomfort, smiled. ”But if your master should die,” she said, ”hasten here. I'll provide real coin for those secrets of his you've managed to glean.”
”Mistress Weebly,” said Sybil, ”I promise you, I know of no such secrets. But if you please,” she said, desperate to speak what she had planned to say, ”only yesterday a child came to our door and-”
”And where pray, is is that door?” that door?”
”Clutterbuck Lane,” Sybil blurted out and raced on: ”The child was asking for my master. I had to send it away, for as I told you, Master Thorston is ill. Alas, the child went so quickly I neglected to ask a name. But I did notice green eyes. Know you, Mistress, of any such child in town? One with ... green eyes?”
The apothecary's small eyes narrowed: ”Boy or girl?” she asked.
”In faith, Mistress, I know not. The child was bundled so against the chill.”
”But,” the woman said, ”all the same-you noticed green green eyes?” eyes?”
Sybil, feeling panicky, nodded and moved toward the door, only to pause: ”Pray, Mistress Weebly; please send any such green-eyed child you know to my master's house. He'd be much obliged.”
”To Master Thorston of Clutterbuck Lane,” said the apothecary, ”a green-eyed child. I shall surely try.''
Sybil stepped out upon the street as quickly as she could.
”You are a fool,” rasped Odo the moment they left the shop. ”You gave everything away.”
”I didn't expect so many questions,” Sybil admitted.
”You even told her about his alchemy.”
”Odo,” gasped Sybil. ”The reeve is approaching.”
Master Bashcroft was marching down the narrow street toward them. Two steel-helmeted soldiers, pointed pikes in hand, trailed behind.
Sybil, eyes averted, hastily stepped aside and dropped a curtsy as the reeve pa.s.sed by. Bashcroft did not so much as glance at her.
”By Saint Modoc,” the girl whispered as soon as he had pa.s.sed, ”I swear that man has been spying on me.”
”Then take us home,” snapped Odo. ”Where it's safe. And no more talk of green-eyed children.”
”What about master's gold-making secret?” said Sybil.
”All we can do is pray he regains his speech,” said the bird.
”I doubt he will,” muttered a disappointed Sybil. She set off, paying no attention to Brother Wilfrid, who was observing her closely as she hurried through the muddy streets back toward Clutterbuck Lane.
3.
Should I follow? the monk wondered. No. She's with that raven-who talks. Such magic is surely Thorston's work. Which means the bird is his underling. I'll have to speak to the girl alone.
Wilfrid observed the reeve watching the girl. Why is he so concerned with her? he asked himself. I'd best keep my eye on him as well.
4.
Bashcroft watched Sybil and Odo until the two turned a corner and were lost to his view. Telling the soldiers to wait, he shoved open the door to the apothecary shop and stomped inside.
”Master Bashcroft,” cried Mistress Weebly when the large man banged his staff down on the floor with a loud crack of authority. ”G.o.d grant us days of greater warmth.”
”That maid-” said Bashcroft, giving no pause for civility, ”the one with a raven on her shoulder. She was just here. What have you learned?”
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