The Book Without Words_ A Fable of Medieval Magic - Avi [45]
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.
“Alfric,” said Sybil. “You must know, when we meet Brother Wilfrid I intend to give the book to him. It belongs to him. But—has he any other claim on you?”
“None.”
Sybil looked down at the boy. He seemed terribly frail. “I’ll trust you. Now, can you read the book and determine where he is?”
“But won’t it—as you said—hurt me?” said the boy.
He was gazing up at her. The moonlight illuminated his red hair, his pale, streaky face and his green eyes. And suddenly Sybil had the thought: His eyes shine magically. Is that what the monk spoke of—the great desire?
“Perhaps you’re right,” she whispered in awe. “Better we find our