Part 7 (2/2)
”It's perfectly clear,” said Sybil, ”you know some of Master's magic. That skull rising was proof enough.”
”You may be sure he he never taught me,” said the raven. ”I had to spy on him.” never taught me,” said the raven. ”I had to spy on him.”
”Why did you let the skull break?”
”I didn't let let it. It's what his magic seems to do: something good happens, then ... the opposite.” it. It's what his magic seems to do: something good happens, then ... the opposite.”
”What other magic did you learn?”
”A few pretty things.”
”Such as?”
”I ... I can make small objects rise up in the air. But little beyond my own weight.”
”And?”
”I can move ... things-as I did with the skull. But just for short distances. And either they go back where they came from-or they break.”
”Nothing more?”
”Sometimes I can turn hard objects-again, puny ones-into water. It's useful when I'm thirsty.”
”Go on.”
”G.o.d's truth, there is no more.”
”I'm not sure I believe you.”
”What you believe doesn't matter,” said the bird. ”What will we do when the reeve returns?”
”I'll deal with him then,” said Sybil.
”Have you no fear of death?”
”It's not my death I fear,” said Sybil, ”but my life. Now, go tell the boys to bring the shovels.”
”Idiocy,” muttered the raven as he fluttered up. But within moments Sybil heard him croak, ”She says to bring the shovels.”
10.
It was Alfric who carried down the shovels, one with an iron blade, the other wood. Damian came next, descending clumsily, continually muttering complaints. Odo, feathers agitated, settled himself on a rung halfway down the ladder and watched. Now and again he fluttered his wings or bobbed his tail.
Damian, holding his nose, said, ”It stinks like a privy here.”
”Master used it so,” said Sybil, ”but it will serve.” She took the iron shovel from Alfric and began to dig close to the foot of the ladder where the dirt was soft. Alfric worked by her side.
”I wish to announce,” said Damian from the chest upon which he was sitting, ”that in my whole life I've never dug anything. Certainly not a grave. I have no intention of doing so now.”
Sybil, making no response, worked in silence, scooping up the sandy loam and piling it up to one side.
”It's said,” Odo p.r.o.nounced from the ladder rung, ”the deeper the grave, the more undisturbed the death.”
”You surely don't want your master to return,” Damian said with a grin. ”He looks most unlikable.”
Sybil paused to wipe the grime and sweat from her face. ”You know nothing about him.”
”I suppose,” Damian went on, ”that whereas alchemy is illegal, the gold made is legal enough. Therefore, in payment for keeping silence about what's happening here, I will want my share.”
”You are a beastly boy,” said Odo, his eyes glittering.
”At least I'm human,” said Damian.
”And where did Master Thorston put his h.o.a.rd?” Damian said. ”In here?” He thumped the chest on which he sat, and jangled the heavy, rusty lock that held it shut. When no one replied, he bent over, picked up a rock, and pounded the lock. The lock held, and the blow only stung his hand.
Sybil looked up from the grave pit. ”Master Damian,” she cried, ”if you desire one grain of my master's gold, by G.o.d's bones, you'll keep quiet.”
”Does that mean the gold is is about?” retorted the boy. about?” retorted the boy.
”Of course it is,” said Sybil.
Sybil and Alfric kept digging until Odo, from the ladder said; ”I should think that's deep enough.”
”Then it's time,” said Sybil, ”to put Master to his final rest.”
11.
They made their way to the upper room and stood by Thorston's bed. The dead man lay as they had left him: face dull white, eyes sunken, toothless mouth agape, body somewhat shrunken within his blue robe. His k.n.o.bby, motionless hands rested by his sides.
”I admit,” said Sybil as she gazed at him, ”I don't care for this. He may have been unpleasant, but it's not easy to think him dead.”
”You said he treated you kindly,” said Damian.
”Death gives life to memories,” Odo said.
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