Part 16 (1/2)

”Try another,” Damian urged.

Sybil tested two more gold coins. Four more. All of them. The results were always the same: blue. blue.

”Then that whole chest is nothing but false gold!” said Odo. ”As bogus as Master.”

”According to my father,” said Alfric, ”the making and using of false gold is a hanging offense.”

”So what,” said Damian. ”It looks like gold. Enough to fool people. If you don't want any, I'll be happy to take it.”

Sybil felt a poke from Alfric. ”What is it?” she asked the boy.

”Mistress,” said Alfric, his voice trembling. ”At the top of the steps. He's come back again. Your master.”

They spun about. There, at the top of the steps stood an unsteady Thorston.

18.

Thorston's hair was tousled, his eyes bleary. Though traces of dirt were about his robe and face, he appeared to be hardly more than thirty years of age-some twenty years younger than when he had last died. His skin was smooth, his beard and hair full and black, with not a trace of gray. His tattered and dirty robe was far too small for his erect, muscular body-as if he had grown a few inches. It was almost as if the man who stood before them was the son of the previous Thorston.

His appearance of momentary confusion gave way quickly to a fierce, hard look as he gazed about. ”Why are you all staring at me?” he demanded.

”Master,” said Sybil, ”we were waiting for you.”

”Waiting will do you no good,” said Thorston. He moved toward the worktable. The boys-Odo was on Sybil's shoulder-stepped hastily aside to let him pa.s.s.

Midway to his worktable, Thorston halted. ”Sybil!” he barked. ”Who told you to clean the room?”

”You were ... dead, Master,” she replied. ”I thought it wise.”

”I was not not dead,” said Thorston, adding, ”I was only pausing between stones.” dead,” said Thorston, adding, ”I was only pausing between stones.”

”I thought something worse,” said Sybil. ”Forgive me.”

”I forgive nothing,” said Thorston. He noticed the small heap of coins on the table and picked one up. ”Where do these come from?”

”Please, Master,” said Sybil, ”we found them.”

”Found them? Where would you find these?”

No one replied.

”Answer!” shouted Thorston.

”If you wish to know-” began Damian.

Sybil put out her hands as if to protect the boy.

”I insist upon knowing,” said Thorston.

”We took them from those chests in the cellar,” said Damian.

”Who gave you permission?” roared Thorston.

”You were dead,” said Damian.

”Dead?” Thorston echoed. ”I will not be dead. I have no intention of dying. These are valuable coins.”

”They're false,” said an angry Damian. ”Which makes you a cheat.”

”Damian!” Sybil cried.

Thorston turned about. ”Are you accusing me of a crime?” he said to the boy.

”Master,” Odo called, leaning forward from the books. ”I a.s.sure you, we know your strengths. We respect them.”

”But unless you give me some real gold,” said Damian, refusing to be held back, ”I'll inform the authorities.”

Thorston glared angrily at the boy. ”Inform the-! What is your name and why are you here?”

”I am Damian Perbeck and I'm here because she”-he pointed at Sybil-”said you had gold. I was promised some. Will you provide it or not?”

”Of course not.”

”Then I shall inform the authorities,” said Damian. ”Perhaps they will give me a reward when they hang you.” He headed toward the stairs.

”Stop!” cried Thorston, pointing right at the boy. Damian came to an instant halt-as if held by iron hoops.

”Turn,” Thorston commanded.

Damian turned, though the turning was not of his own doing. The look on his face was of great perplexity, as if he could not grasp what was happening.

”If your great desire is coins,” cried Thorston ”then be be one.” He made a flourish with his hand, and called, one.” He made a flourish with his hand, and called, ”Cuneus!” ”Cuneus!”

The next instant-where Damian stood-where he had been-where he had been a person-was a heavy coin. For a moment it hung in the air, then clunked to the floor, spinning three times before flopping over.

”Master!” cried Sybil. ”What have you done?” She ran to the coin and picked it up. It was the color of lead, and there was an image of Damian's face on it: hair clipped around his head like an inverted bowl, heavily lidded eyes, turned-up nose.

”I will not not be threatened,” said Thorston, turning back to his worktable. ”Not that he was worth anything.” be threatened,” said Thorston, turning back to his worktable. ”Not that he was worth anything.”

”But ... Master ... .” stammered Sybil.

Thorston glared at Sybil. ”Was it you who brought these people here?”

”Master, you told us to fetch someone with green eyes.”