The Book Without Words by Avi Read Free Book Online

“There,” she said, “my plan worked.”
    “Alas! But you mustn’t let him in.”
    Enjoying the raven’s frustration, Sybil removed the crossbeam and pulled in the heavy door.
    Alfric stood on the threshold, his head bowed so that Sybil could see nothing of his eyes. She could see his unruly red hair, his ragged clothing, his torn boots, and that he was younger than she.
    “Please, Mistress,” said Alfric, speaking in a whisper and addressing the ground, “I was told a boy with green eyes was wanted.” His trembling fingers—raw with cold—twisted in distress.
    “Who told you?” said Sybil.
    “Master Bashcroft.” Alfric turned halfway around.
    Sybil followed his gaze but saw no one in the courtyard. “Let me see your eyes.”
    A reluctant Alfric lifted his head. Tears were running down his red, chapped face.
    “God’s grace, boy,” said Sybil. “What ails you?”
    “I’m frightened.”
    “Of what?”
    “Of what will happen to me here.” He covered his face with his hands as if to ward off a blow.
    Gently, Sybil pulled the boy’s hand away and looked at his eyes anew. Seeing that they were green, her heart fluttered. “By all grace,” she said, “nothing bad shall befall you here. Step in.”
    When Alfric edged forward, Sybil shut the door behind him. The noise made the boy jump.
    “May I know your name?” said Sybil as she set back the crossbar.
    “Alfric,” the boy said with a shuddering sob. “Please, Mistress, I didn’t want to find out about how to make the gold.”
    “Gold?” said a startled Sybil. “What gold?”
    “That your master makes.”
    Sybil heard Odo hiss softly. To Alfric she said, “You appear hungry. Are you?”
    “Yes, please.”
    “Come. I’ll give you something warm.” She turned toward the steps.
    The boy hesitated.
    “I shan’t hurt you,” said Sybil. “It’s only your green eyes that are wanted.”
    The boy threw himself back up against the door. “Are you going to cut them out?” he cried.
    “No, no! You need only look at something with them,” said Sybil. She moved toward the steps, turning to make sure Alfric was coming.
    Halfway up the steps they passed Odo who fixed his beady eyes on the boy. Alfric shied away but continued on. When he reached the gloomy room, he stopped and looked about, wide-eyed.
    Odo went to his customary roost upon the skull.
    “Mistress,” the boy whispered, “is that old man … dead?”
    “Just resting,” said Sybil. She drew the three-legged stool close to the hot brazier. “Pray sit,” she said.
    Alfric, sitting on the stool’s edge, looked about the room. Now and again he wiped his face with his dirty hands.
    Sybil placed the bowl from which she had been attempting to feed Thorston back on the brazier. As it warmed, she watched Alfric survey the room. She sensed he was looking for something.
    “Tell me, Alfric,” she said, “what is your connection to Master Bashcroft?”
    “He bought me for two pennies.”
    “Bought you! Where are your parents, then?”
    “Dead,” the boy whispered.
    “May they find grace,” said Sybil as she handed the bowl to the boy.
    With a look of gratitude, Alfric took the bowl in both raw hands. He allowed himself a sip; then a second, deeper one. His third swallow drained the bowl. Though the bowl was empty, he continued to clutch it, reluctant to give up its warmth.
    “Now, Alfric,” said Sybil, “I require you to look at something with those green eyes of yours.”
    “Mistress, I can read. Truly. My father, who did ledgers for merchants, was also a scrivener. He taught me the skill.”
    “Even better,” said Sybil, glancing at Odo and feeling a heart swell of anticipation. She went to Thorston’s bed, took up the Book Without Words, placed it on Alfric’s knees, and opened it at random. “Be so good as to read what you see.”
    As Alfric bent over the open page, Odo hopped closer to observe better. Sybil also watched intently.
    After a long time Alfric looked up.