The Book Without Words_ A Fable of Medieval Magic - Avi [38]
“It was your choice to stay,” Sybil said.
“You forced me!”
“Anyway,” said Sybil, “you can’t leave now. What’s happened here must remain a secret.”
“And we might find gold,” offered Alfric.
“Stupid boy,” yelled Damian. “THERE IS NO GOLD. We’ll never find any. It’s a cheat. A fraud. This Thorston is a disgusting old man who hasn’t the common decency to stay dead. If I were dead I should stay dead. I hate being alive! I despise Fulworth. I’ve already run away, and now I’ll go farther.”
“Where will you go?” asked Alfric.
“What do you care? Do you think I’d take you? Not likely.” He began to cry anew, big air-gulping sobs.
Sybil sighed. “Master Damian, we are all just trying to live. But we can’t if we steal from one another, can we?” She sat on Thorston’s bed and opened her hand. The two stones, one smaller than the other, lay glowing in her palm. “Do you wish to know the truth about these?”
Alfric drew near. Damian looked away as if he didn’t care, but Sybil was sure he was listening.
“These stones,” began Sybil, “were made by our master a few days ago. They are his way of staying alive.”
“He’s bloody well failed, hasn’t he?” said Damian, wiping away his tears. “And I’m glad of it. So why couldn’t I have at least one stone?”
“Damian,” said a weary Sybil, “we need to work together. And if we find anything of value, we’ll surely share.”
Exhausted, they sat in silence. Sybil gazed at the stones and wondered what would happen if she swallowed one. Would she become something else? Would she die? Then she remembered: she was going to bring them to Brother Wilfrid.
Even as she got up, Odo, from atop the books, bobbed his head a few times and said, “I wish to announce something.”
They looked around.
The raven opened his beak, stuck out his black tongue, and then said: “I have found Master’s gold.”
16
There was stunned silence.
Sybil found voice to ask, “Is that truly so?” The bird nodded.
“Where is it?” demanded Damian.
“Below. In those chests by his grave.”
“They were locked,” said Sybil. “Did you find the key?”
“I … had another way of opening it.”
“Which was??” said Sybil.
“It’s what I told you. I can turn things—small things—into water. I did so with the lock. Sybil,” he said in response to her accusatory look. “I told you I could do that. I did.”
“Did you really find gold?” asked a wide-eyed Damian.
“You may look for yourself,” said the bird.
Sybil shoved the two stones into her purse, grabbed a candle and, with the others, rushed down the steps and ladder into the dirt basement. Holding up the candle, she glanced at the grave. It was undisturbed. “He hasn’t moved,” she said, much relieved.
“God grant him a true death this time,” said Alfric.
Damian was only interested in the chests. “Did you really turn the lock into water?” he asked Odo.
“Watch,” said Odo. He lifted a claw to the second lock and said, “Meltan. Meltan.” The old iron lock shook on its hasp, quivered, turned to water, and dribbled into the ground.
“It is magic,” Alfric whispered.
“Can you make the lock come back?” asked Sybil.
“I fear it will probably do so on its own,” the bird admitted. “My magic isn’t strong.”
“Who cares whether it’s strong or not,” said Damian. “Open the chests.”
Sybil and Alfric took hold of a chest lid and swung it open. The candlelight revealed a great heap of coins, most of them golden.
“Heaven’s mercy!” gasped Sybil.
A giggling Damian pushed his arm up to his elbow into the coins. “A king’s fortune!” he exclaimed.
Sybil picked up one of the golden coins and let it drop. It made a heavy plunking sound. She grinned.
“You wondered where he got his money,” Odo said to Sybil. “Now you know: he did make it.”
“And we’ll share it, won’t we?” said a laughing Damian.
“We can,” said Sybil, her eyes fixed on the bright coins.
Alfric tugged on Sybil’s sleeve. “Mistress …”
“What now?”
“When you dropped that coin it didn’t … sound like gold.”
“How would a beggar like you know anything about gold?” Damian demanded.
“There were times,