Part 7 (1/2)
”You may stay,” said Sybil. ”But you, Master Damian, decide: Go or stay?”
”I can't go home” said Damian, ”I have to have the secrets.”
The knocking below resumed.
”Well?” said Sybil.
”I'll stay.”
”Good,” said Sybil. ”Then I'll deal with the reeve.”
8.
Sybil hurried down the stairs. As she did, Odo leaped to her shoulder.
”You did that, didn't you?” said Sybil.
”Did what?”
”Made that skull rise.”
”I did only what you requested.”
”Master raven, how many of Master's secrets do you know?”
”Sybil, if you truly are going to bury Master here, I promise you that Damian will spread the news. Things will go badly.”
”Master Odo, since you won't answer my questions and only change the subject, I intend to take care of myself.” As she reached for the door, it suddenly occurred to her that the ancient monk-the one she met the night before-might be on the other side. ”Who is it?” she called.
”It's I, Ambrose Bashcroft, the reeve of Fulworth. Dura Dura lex, sed lex. lex, sed lex. The law is hard, but it is the law. Since I am the law, I must see Master Thorston.” The law is hard, but it is the law. Since I am the law, I must see Master Thorston.”
”In faith, sir,” called Sybil, ”my master is in no condition to have visitors.”
”To whom am I speaking?”
”His servant, sir.”
”Why can't your master have visitors?”
Sybil looked over her shoulder. Alfric and Damian had come down the steps. ”Master Reeve,” she cried through the closed door. ”My master's condition is such that he will speak to no one.”
”Dying, is he? Then I'll speak to my boy, Alfric. Send him out immediately.”
”But, sir,” called Sybil, ”even as you speak, your boy is about to attend my master.”
There was a moment of silence, after which the reeve said, ”What is he doing?”
”He is going to help my master find his rest.”
”Is your master talking to him?”
”I've no doubt your boy is listening to every word my master utters.”
”Very well,” said the reeve. ”I'll return on the morrow at noon. I'll speak to your master then. Advise him that I've ample reason to believe that dangerous doings are being conducted in this house.”
”I shall tell him,” said Sybil. She pressed an ear to the door. ”He's gone,” she announced after a moment.
”But he'll be back,” cried Odd.
”Then,” said Sybil, ”we'd best bury Master quickly.”
9.
Sybil knelt by the trapdoor, grasped its iron rung, and yanked. It barely gave.
Odo started to lift a claw but stopped himself.
”Come here,” Sybil called to the boys. ”I need your help.”
Alfric took hold of the ring. ”Blessings on you for letting me stay,” he whispered.
”By G.o.d's hands, you're most welcome,” said Sybil. ”Just lift.” The two pulled. With a jerk, the trapdoor came up, exposing a square, dark hole.
”Are there more dead below?” asked Damian.
”Don't be a fool,” said Sybil. ”There's nothing but dirt.”
”You call me a fool, but it's clear you have no respect for the dead,” said Damian.
”Whereas you have no respect for the living,” returned Sybil. ”Now, come,” she said. ”Both of you. We need to work in haste.”
She sat on the square's open edge. A rickety ladder led into the dark. She started down. The air was damp, cold, and smelled horrible. The bas.e.m.e.nt had a dirt floor, and nothing was there save for two old chests with rusty locks. It had been so long since Sybil had gone into the bas.e.m.e.nt, she had forgotten about them.
Odo dropped onto her shoulder. ”This is madness,” he hissed. ”Why are you doing this?”
”Odo,” Sybil returned in a hushed voice, ”tell me the secrets you learned from our master, or by Saint Osyth, I'll wring your neck and bury you by his side.”
”What do you mean?” cried the alarmed bird.