The Book Without Words_ A Fable of Medieval Magic - Avi [26]
“God’s mercy,” said the girl, her attention brought back to the others. “I forgot about him. I shall put my mind to it.”
Alfric’s question dampened the mood. For the rest of the meal, no one spoke. They finished eating.
“Forgive me,” said Alfric with a yawn. “I’ve not slept indoors for so long, the closeness makes me sleepy.”
“You can sleep where you like,” said Sybil.
“I’ll rest on the floor,” said the boy, and he went off to a corner.
“As for me,” said Damian, “since your master sleeps elsewhere, I’ll take his bed.” He went to it and lay down.
Odo sat where the skull used to be, on the pile of books.
Sybil retreated to her straw pallet in the back room. After pulling the thin blanket up to her chin, she stared up at the darkness. She thought of the monk’s tale, that Master had stolen the Book Without Words from him. If it had been stolen, was it not proper to return it to its rightful owner? Besides, its empty pages were useless to them. But there were the stones, which seemed to be important. Finally—reluctantly—Sybil made herself consider the monk’s warning: that when Thorston regained his life, she would lose hers. It made no sense: Master was dead; and she, after a fashion, lived.
More than that: with Thorston dead, she was free. True, the notion of being unattached to anyone made her uneasy. Even so, there was something pleasing about it. Except—what should she do with her life? Something, she told herself. I must do something.
The sound of soft scratches coming down the hallway reached her ears. In a moment, Odo peered into her face.
“Sybil,” said the raven, his voice a croaked whisper. “I wish to acknowledge I’ve spoken ill of you too often. I’ve been unkind. My only excuse is that a sharp master makes for a dull servant. Will you forgive me?”
“I’m trying.”
“And will there be no secrets between us?” said the bird.
“I’m weary with secrets,” said Sybil. “Let me sleep.”
“As God is my witness,” said Odo, “once I fly again, I’ll leave you. You’ll not be bothered by me again.”
Sybil, wondering what would she do without Odo, felt pain. But afraid the bird would mock her if she confessed such soft thoughts, she said nothing.
“You have no heart,” said Odo, and he hopped away.
As the raven pattered down the hallway, Sybil’s thoughts concentrated on the stones. She wished the monk had told her how they were to be used. She also wished she had not fled so quickly from him. She hoped he would return.
As Sybil drifted off to sleep, she wondered if it had been wrong to tell Odo where she’d put the stones. I must trust him, she told herself I must. He’s my only friend.
19
“Unfeeling girl,” Odo muttered as he retreated to the front room. “Why should I care or trust her?” He reached the top of the steps, paused, and looked toward the back room. Seeing and hearing nothing, he hopped softly down the steps. Upon reaching the ground-floor level he went to the closed trapdoor, stood before it, and extended one claw. “Risan … risan,” he whispered.
The heavy door trembled as it struggled to rise.
“Risan … risan,” the bird repeated, somewhat louder.
The door quivered anew, strained to open, but failed and settled back.
“My magic is too weak,” moaned Odo. “I still need her.” Softly, he returned to the room and went to his column of books and tried to sleep.
20
In the back room Sybil remained awake. Wishing she had said spoken more kindly to Odo, she got up and padded into the front room.
All was still: Damian lay asleep in Thorston’s bed, breathing deeply. Alfric was curled up in a corner, eyes closed, his thumb in his mouth. Seeing that Odo had his head tucked under a wing—apparently asleep-she decided she’d wait until the morning to speak to him.
Instead she went to the window and pulled aside the leather curtain, hoping to see Brother Wilfrid. The courtyard was deserted. In the clear sky, an all but full moon cast pale light into the room. She turned. On the table lay the Book Without Words,