The Book Without Words (19 page)

Sybil approached the bed, her heart pounding as she stared at Thorston’s covered body. She darted a nervous glance at Odo, braced herself, then reached out and took hold of the blanket’s edge with the tips of three fingers. Even so, she vacillated.

“What’s the
matter?”
hissed Odo.

“To take from a dead man …”

“He would filch your life,” Odo reminded her.

Sybil, nodding grimly, took another deep breath and slowly pulled back the blanket from Thorston’s body. “Odo!” she cried.

“What?”

“He’s much younger!”

“I don’t care how old he is, get the stone!”

Sybil gazed at Thorston. He was a young man, smooth-faced; lanky and thick-haired, with full lips. Yet there was no apparent breathing.

“The stone!” chided Odo.

Sybil made herself look about his body. “I can’t see his purse,” she said.

“It must be on his other side.”

Sybil began to lean over the body, only to pull back.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m frightened.”

“You handled him before when he was dead.”

“But what if he should come back now?”

“I’ll help,” said the raven. He fluttered across the room and landed on the bed at the far side of the body. With bright eyes he looked about. “The purse is right here,” said Odo, pointing with his beak. “If you open it I can pluck out the stone.”

Girding herself, and taking great care even as she held her breath, Sybil leaned over Thorston’s body. She saw the purse immediately. It was tied to Thorston’s belt. With her arm arched so as not to touch him, Sybil felt for it.

“Odo, he’s knotted it closed!”

“Get back,” said the raven, even as he hopped closer. With quick sharp pecks that alternated with pulls upon the drawstrings, he unraveled the knot.

“Untied!” he announced, drawing back.

Sybil leaned over the body again and slipped her fingers into the purse, and spread them wide so there was a gap. “Open,” she said and drew her hand away.

Once more Odo hopped close, leaned in, then abruptly plunged his head into the purse. Next moment he emerged, the small green stone locked between the bills of his beak.

On the instant Sybil stepped away from the bed while Odo fluttered to the book pile.

“Perhaps I should swallow it,” said Odo.

“Odo, if you do you will kill us both!” She held out her palm.

For a moment the bird did nothing.

“Odo!”

Odo leaned forward and let the stone drop into Sybil’s open hand.

3

Sybil, making sure the stone was secure in her belt purse—where it clinked against the Damian coin—hurried down the steps to the ground floor, candle in hand. Odo rode her shoulder. Together they examined the old wall. It was easy enough to see the outline of the old entryway. And when Sybil poked at the mortar between the stones, it crumbled. “You see,” she said. “It’s not hard. I’m sure you can do it. Do you need my help?”

“I have to do it on my own,” said Odo. He gazed fixedly at the wall with his black eyes and raised a claw:
“Feallan, feallan,”
he whispered.

A rock vibrated—and tumbled out of the wall.

Sybil clapped her hands. “There! You can do it.”

“One stone at least,” said Odo. He lifted his claw and repeated the words. When a second stone fell, he nodded with excitement and set to work in earnest. He chanted, and stones tumbled to the floor.

“It’s exhausting,” he panted, beak open. “Sybil, be warned, the magical things I do never last. At least I now understand why: it’s the nature of the book’s magic.”

“But don’t stop,” said Sybil. “You’re succeeding.”

Odo went on until a rush of cold air announced he had breached the wall. Sybil peered into the hole. “Tumble a few more stones, and I’ll just be able to squeeze through.”

Odo continued. Sybil checked again. “There,” she announced. “It’s wide enough. Wait here and rest. I’ll fetch the boy.”

“Just hurry,” urged Odo.

4

Sybil ran up the steps and into the back room. “Alfric, wake up.”

The boy sat up with a start. “Mistress, is something the matter?”

“You need to come with me.”

“Where?”

“I’ll tell you as we go.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Out of the house.”

“What of Master Thorston?”

“He’s still dead.”

“Won’t he come back soon?”

“Which is why we must hurry.”

“And you’ll not abandon me?”

“Take my hand,” said Sybil.

They went into the main room where Thorston remained unmoving on his bed. Softly, Sybil picked up the Book Without Words and led the boy down the steps. Odo was waiting by the hole in the wall.

“Now,” said Sybil, “I’ll have the hardest time getting through, so I should go first. Alfric, once I’m on the other side, hand the book out to me. Then I’ll help you get through. Odo, it will be easiest for you, so you’ll be last.

The two murmured their agreement.

Sybil got down on her hands and knees, extended her arms into the hole, curled her fingers on the other edge, and pulled forward. It was a tight squeeze, and the stones scratched, but she got through, falling onto weedy ground on the far side.

“Alfric,” Sybil called back through the hole. “Hurry now. The book.”

The boy pushed the book into the hole. Sybil grasped it and pulled it through. “Now you should have it easier than I,” she called. “Reach for my hands and I’ll help you.” She leaned into the hole, found Alfric’s small fingers, and gripped them. “Squirm and kick. I’ll pull.”

Within moments, Alfric was standing by Sybil’s side. As he brushed himself free of mortar dust, she bent down to see where Odo was.

“God’s mercy!” she cried.

“What’s the matter?” said Alfric.

“The hole in the wall is gone.”

5

Odo was just about to jump into the hole when the stones rose up and rammed themselves back where they had been.

Stunned, he stared at the wall for a few moments then lifted a claw.
“Feallan!”
he whispered. Nothing happened. He repeated the word. The result was the same. He tried pecking at the mortar, but it had become harder than before, and only hurt his beak. He told himself he was lucky he wasn’t inside the wall when the stones reassembled: he would have been entombed.

Perhaps, he thought, if he rested, some of his magic would return.

Exhausted, Odo hopped away from the wall and fluttered up the steps and then atop the books. Shaking his head in agitation, he thought, She has the stone. What if she abandons me? She won’t, he told himself, even as he recalled all the times he had insulted her. Be patient.

Greatly agitated, Odo tried to settle himself. Just as he began to drift off to sleep, he heard a sound. He opened his eyes.

Thorston was sitting up in his bed and looking around. “Where,” he said, “is the girl?”

6

“But how,” Alfric said to Sybil, “could the hole just disappear?” The two were standing outside the wall. It was cold, and in the sky the full moon seemed to be racing through new clouds.

“It’s the book’s magic,” said Sybil. “It takes what it gives.”

“We’re not going to leave him, are we?” said Alfric.

“We have to,” said Sybil. “We need to find Brother Wilfrid. Just pray Master Thorston doesn’t come back to life too soon.” She checked her purse to make sure the stone was there, tucked the Book Without Words under an arm, took Alfric’s hand, and started off along the narrow path that ran along the outside of the old city wall.

After a while, Alfric said, “Mistress, who is Brother Wilfrid?”

She told him all she had learned regarding Thorston and Wilfrid. Alfric listened in astonishment.

“Mistress,” he said when Sybil had done, “that time you made the skull rise; was that magic you had learned from the book?”

“Alfric, I can’t read, so I took nothing from the book. That’s why we needed you—and your green eyes.”

“But you said you had magic.”

“I said so only for Damian’s sake. It was Odo who made the skull rise. And for his pains, it smashed.”

“Did he read the book?”

“What magic he knew he learned by watching Thorston. As you saw, Odo’s magic is not very strong.”

“Mistress,” said Alfric, “as I told you, the book has other magic. I did see it.”

Sybil halted and looked at the boy.

“Is that … wrong to say?” Alfric asked beneath her steady gaze:

“Other than gold-making, what kind of magic did you see?”

“Shall I tell it to you now?”

“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.