The Book Without Words_ A Fable of Medieval Magic - Avi [37]
“Oh, Odo, wouldn’t you rather live? Besides, the saint said she would fix you.”
“Actually, she said she’d make me what I was.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“I don’t like it,” said Odo, “that all this living and dying is so mixed up. It should be one or the other.”
“It doesn’t seem to be,” said the girl.
The raven remained still for a while. Then he said, “He didn’t say we had to return all the stones. Perhaps if I took the Magic one, I could gain the secret of gold-making.”
“That’s what Damian said. Odo,” said Sybil, “I want to live. And to do that we must return the book and stones.”
Odo only shook his head. “And the gold?”
“Odo, there isn’t any.”
“The chests,” said Odo.
“We have no keys.”
“I still want to look,” said Odo.
“When we return home,” said Sybil, “I’m going to fetch the book and the stones and bring them to Brother Wilfrid.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never cared about living before. What has changed?”
“I have learned something.”
“What?”
“Master may wish to never die, but I have yet to live.”
Within moments they entered the house. “You go up,” said the bird. “I want to look at the chests again.” Sybil went up the steps.
14
As soon as she had gone, Odo hopped down the ladder. First he checked the grave and was relieved to find it undisturbed. Then he drew close to one of the chests, lifted a claw, and whispered, “Meltan. Meltan.” One of the locks shook, turned to water, flowed down to the ground, and disappeared.
Head cocked, Odo listened. Certain no one was coming, he lifted his claw a second time. “Ofan, Ofan,” he murmured. With a creak the chest lid swung open. Fluttering his wings and leaping, Odo landed upon the chest’s lip. He looked within. “Ah!” he croaked. He was about to hop into the chest when he heard Sybil cry from above: “Odo, come quickly! Damian has stolen the stones!”
15
Odo raced up to the second floor as fast as he could hop. When he arrived, a red-faced Damian was by the front window, right hand held aloft and clenched in a fist. A furious Sybil, iron bottle in hand, stood before him, not allowing him to move. Alfric, frightened, stood across the room.
“Give me those stones!” Sybil shouted at Damian. “Or by Saint Lull, I’ll crown you with this, and then pry them from your dead fingers.”
“They’re magic,” shouted the boy. “And since there’s no gold, it’s only what I deserve and need. I shall eat them myself.” He opened his mouth wide.
With a raucous squawk and jump, Odo landed on Damian’s head. As his talons sank into the boy’s scalp, he began to peck around his neck.
“Off, you filthy bird!” the boy screamed.
“Release the stones!” cried Sybil, drawing closer with her bottle, arm cocked.
“I won’t!” returned Damian. As he tried to swat Odo away with his free hand, Sybil dropped the bottle, darted forward, and grabbed the boy’s arm, pinning it to his side. “Let them go,” she shouted.
“No!” screamed Damian.
“Alfric,” Sybil called. “Pry his hand open. I’ll hold him.”
Alfric approached timidly.
“I’ll kick you,” Damian warned.
Odo pecked Damian’s head furiously.
“You’re hurting me!” screamed the boy.
“Alfric,” cried Sybil. “Do as I say.”
Alfric darted forward and grabbed Damian’s hand. Damian tried to kick him. Alfric responded by bending over and biting Damian’s wrist.
“Yow!” cried Damian. His hand opened. The stones clattered to the floor. Alfric snatched them up and scurried off to a corner. As Odo leaped away, Sybil released the boy. Panting, she went to where Alfric stood, and held out her hand. He gave her the two stones.
“I’m bloody,” cried Damian, holding out a red-stained hand. He dropped to the floor and began to sob. “I despise you all. You’re low, filthy people—and you’re a filthy bird.”
“And you are an ill-mannered, thieving boy,” a trembling Sybil called from across the room. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“You all loathe me,” Damian blubbered.
“What have you done to deserve otherwise?” said Sybil.
“You have all these secrets,” Damian retorted. “But you tell me nothing. I’m sure by now Mistress Weebly