The Book Without Words_ A Fable of Medieval Magic - Avi [43]
“How young do you think he’ll be when he returns?” Odo asked.
“The changes seem to work in jumps of twenty years or so,” said Sybil.
“Then perhaps,” said Odo, “he’ll be as young as when he first stole the book from the monk.”
“About my age,” said Sybil. “I don’t think I would enjoy his company.” She held up the stone. “What do you think might happen if I swallowed it?”
“Perhaps you too could start anew.”
“And relive this misery of my life? I’d rather not go far back, but start anew—from now.”
She went to the window and stared out at the gallows and the soldiers. But she was thinking about what she had just said. “Odo,” she said at last, “there is a back way—the old back entry.”
The bird shook his head. “It’s blocked.”
“By the old city wall. You know how its mortar is crumbled in many places. It’s that way here, too. Odo,” she said, becoming excited. “I’ve seen you move small things with your magic. Couldn’t you make the stones fall out so there would be a hole? If you could, we might escape that way and make our way into town—to
Wilfrid—without Bashcroft and his soldiers ever knowing.”
The bird shook his head. “Sybil, I don’t know if I can. I’m an old bird. My magic is borrowed and, at best, weak.”
“Odo, to stay here is certain death.”
“That’s almost what I said to you the night Master first died.”
“You were right.”
“How would we find the monk?”
“Once we got out of here I’m sure we’d find a way.”
“And Alfric?”
“He needs to come with us.”
The raven bobbed his head a few times in thought. “All right. I’ll try. Save for one thing.”
“What?”
“Master has the stone.”
Sybil took a deep breath. “Then we must take it from him.”
“Thorston will be furious when he returns to life.”
“Odo, if we wish to live we have no choice.”
“What if in taking the stone we cause him to waken?”
“I pray he won’t.”
Odo ruffled his wings. “Then pray and do it,” said the bird.
2
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,