Part 19 (1/2)
”No,” Sybil said after a moment. ”It's better I don't know.”
”Why?”
”The magic is false. It will turn against you. Now, enough chatter. We need to get back into town and then find the monk.”
They continued silently along the path.
Suddenly Sybil stopped, set the Book Without Words on the ground, and opened it. The blank pages glowed. ”Alfric,” she said, ”I do want you to try to read something,” she said.
”Is it the gold-making secret?”
”I want you to fix your desire on finding Brother Wilfrid. Tell me if the book reveals how to find him.”
”What does the monk look like?”
”He's not very tall-hardly bigger than me-and very old. He looks almost ... like a living skeleton, as if he'd been caught between life and death.”
”Mistress!” cried Alfric. ”I know the man. He found me on the street. It was he who brought me to ...” He faltered.
”Brought you where?” asked Sybil.
Tears welled in Alfric's eyes. ”Mistress, I hadn't eaten in three days. He offered me bread if I'd let myself be given over to Master Bashcroft.”
”The reeve!”
”The monk said in all likelihood the reeve would bring me to Master Thorston's house. Which,” the boy faltered, ”is what he did.”
”What ... what did the monk want from you?”
”To ... to find your book. That I might bring it to him. But, Mistress,” Alfric cried when he saw the alarm in Sybil's face, ”I won't betray you in any way. I won't.” He threw himself at her, hugging her tightly. ”You must believe me.”
Sybil put an arm around the boy, but squeezed the stone in her purse. ”I do believe you.”
”And you'll let me stay with you?”
”I will.”
”I was too frightened to tell you,” sobbed the boy.
”Alfric,” said Sybil. ”You must know, when we meet Brother Wilfrid I intend to give the book to him. It belongs to him. But-has he any other claim on you?”
”None.”
Sybil looked down at the boy. He seemed terribly frail. ”I'll trust you. Now, can you read the book and determine where he is?”
”But won't it-as you said-hurt me?” said the boy.
He was gazing up at her. The moonlight illuminated his red hair, his pale, streaky face and his green eyes. And suddenly Sybil had the thought: His eyes s.h.i.+ne magically. Is that what the monk spoke of-the great desire?
”Perhaps you're right,” she whispered in awe. ”Better we find our own way. But we must hurry.”
7.
Odo looked across the room at Thorston. He was as Sybil had seen him, but even younger, no more than thirteen. His hair was unruly, body slim and muscular. His green eyes were bright with anger.
”Didn't you hear me?” demanded Thorston. ”Where is the girl?”
”She's ... gone.”
”Where?”
”I don't know,” said the bird, determined to say as little as possible so as to give Sybil the time she needed to find Brother Wilfrid.
Thorston remained seated on his bed, trying to untangle his thoughts. ”She had no right to go without my permission,” he said at last, as much to himself as the bird. Agitated, he flexed his fingers so that his knuckles cracked. Then he sprang up and strode to the window and looked out. The night's dank fog had risen from the river. It was seeping over the courtyard, reducing the soldier's lamp light to hazy, yellow smears. The soldiers-more ghostlike than corporeal-were asleep or on guard about the gallows. The dangling noose hung limply in the thick air like a hunting snare.
Odo, watching his master, s.h.i.+fted uneasily on the book pile and fluttered his wings. He wondered when Thorston would notice that the Book Without Words-and the stone-were gone.
”There are more soldiers than before,” said Thorston. ”And the gallows seems to be in readiness.”
”It's the town reeve, Master. Don't you recall? You gave him gold. No doubt it whet his appet.i.te for more.”
Thorston laughed. ”It's only false gold-as he'll learn soon enough.”
”Which means he'll become even more furious than he is,” said Odo. ”More determined to hang you.”
”He won't find me.”
”Are you going somewhere?”
”He'll be looking for someone who doesn't exist. I look very different now,” said Thorston. ”Hardly more than a boy. That girl's age.” He grinned. ”He won't notice me. Being a child is the best disguise.”
The thought seemed to remind him: he walked to the back room, only to return. ”That boy-the one with green eyes-he's gone. Did he go with the girl?”
”I ... think so.”
Thorston considered for a moment. ”It doesn't Matter,” he finally said. ”She'll not survive for long. No more than you.”
Uneasy, Odo s.h.i.+fted about. ”Why?” he asked.
”When I fully regain my life with that final stone, you'll both lose yours.”
”And all my loyalty to you,” said Odo, ”was it for naught?”
”Loyalty!” scoffed Thorston. ”What has that to do with anything? Living is my life. Have you any idea how difficult it has been to preserve myself for this moment? To avoid accidents, illness, and violence. Think how hard it is to keep oneself from death!”