Part 14 (1/2)
”Then this is a fools' school,” said Damian, tossing aside the tool he had been holding. ”All this sitting about. We know what the stones can do. Which means we can have your master's magic by simply swallowing them. You can have the one for Time. I'll take Magic. What are we waiting for?”
”They are not ours for the swallowing,” said Sybil.
”Surely they are no longer your master's,” said Damian. ”He's dead. Buried. Twice. That's enough for most men.”
”You must be patient,” said Sybil.
”Patient!” cried Damian. ”If I stay another day in this place, I shall go daft. No, I'll stay until morning. No more. Then-I don't care what you say-I intend to leave. For now I prefer to sleep. It will pa.s.s the time quickly.” He got up and lumbered back toward the back room.
Odo looked around. ”Irritating boy,” he muttered.
Alfric yawned and put the book on the table. ”Please, Mistress, may I go to sleep too?”
”Of course,” said Sybil.
Alfric brought the book to Sybil. As she took it, he whispered, ”Follow me,” and headed down the hall toward the back room. Sybil set the book on the table, glanced out the window, and then went down the hall.
Alfric was waiting for her halfway down the hall.
”What is it?” Sybil asked.
”In the book,” Alfric whispered, ”there is is something about gold.” something about gold.”
Sybil put a finger to her lips. ”Don't speak of it yet.”
”Why?”
”I don't wish to be tempted. Now, just go to sleep.”
”Yes, Mistress.” The boy looked up at Sybil, unexpectedly hugged her, and then went into the back room.
Sybil returned to the main room. ”Odo,” she said, ”he's out there.”
”Who?” said the bird. ”Bashcroft?”
”The man from whom Master stole the book: Brother Wilfrid. I'm sure he's come to speak to me. You agreed you'd listen to him. Will you come with me?”
”And the boys?”
”They're sleeping. Master is buried. All is safe.”
”I want to be sure they are sleeping,” said Odo. He hopped to the back room. ”They're fine,” he said when he returned. ”But I beg you, for safety's sake, don't take the stones. And promise me we'll go no farther than the courtyard.”
”Agreed,” said Sybil. ”The stones can stay in the chest.” She went toward the steps, holding her elbow out. Odo jumped upon it, and when he clawed his way to her shoulder, the two went down to the door.
Sybil lifted the crossbar from the door. As she began to put it down it slipped from her hand and fell with a bang.
”Clumsy girl,” muttered Odo.
”Sorry,” murmured Sybil. She pulled the door open and looked out. Moonlight cast a glow over the courtyard, bringing a silver sheen to the smallest of puddles. Overhead clouds drifted. The air was calm, if chilly. ”Remember,” repeated Odo. ”Only for a short time.”
Sybil nodded and the two stepped away from the house.
11.
In the back room, a sleeping Damian heard the sound of the falling crossbeam. He sat up in alarm. Alfric did not stir.
”Girl!” called Damian. ”Bird! What was that?” Getting no response, he went into the front room, only to find it deserted.
”Deceivers,” the boy muttered. ”I suppose they are at those chests below.” He took up a candle and crept down the steps. He saw that the trapdoor was open, but when he peered below he saw no one. The chests remained closed, locked. Puzzled, Damian looked about and discovered the door's crossbeam on the ground. ”Churls. They've gone somewhere without telling me.”
Suddenly his face brightened. ”The stones,” he said aloud, and started back up the steps.
12.
Sybil, with Odo on her shoulder, walked to the gallows, paused, and looked up. The noose dangled from the crossbeam like an open hand-as if ready to s.n.a.t.c.h her. It made her feel queasy.
Odo glanced up too. ”We are surrounded by death,” he said.
Sybil put her arms around herself to keep warm. But even as they stood there, Brother Wilfred, small, stooped, and limping, appeared. While an agitated Odo s.h.i.+fted about on her shoulder, Sybil acknowledged him with a nod.
”Ah,” said the monk, his voice faint. ”The raven, too.”
”Do you object?” snapped Odo.
”A raven's feather is a necessary ingredient to the making of the stones,” said Wilfrid. ”Just as he took the girl's life by taking her breath, he took some of your being with your feather.”
”I can spare a feather.”
”Alas, bird,” said Wilfred. ”By so doing, he has taken far more than your feather. It is your life he's stolen, too.”
Odo opened his beak but said nothing.
”Did you bring the stones?” Wilfrid asked Sybil.
Sybil shook her head. ”We need some proof of what you say.”
”Proof? That Thorston stole the Book Without Words from me?” That Thorston stole the Book Without Words from me?”
”You could be lying,” said Odo.