The Water Devil by Judith Merkle Riley Read Free Book Online Page B

things the way you do to get money. Mama had to sell her ray-robe, the fancy one with the gold embroidery that I liked to try on, and the money stepfather left in the box in the chest is all gone anyway,” announced Alison.
    “Alison, you stop!” I cried, my calculations of Sim's age rudely interrupted.
    “Margaret, if you wish to keep household secrets, you'll need to lock these children in the wardrobe.”
    “Step-grandfather already did that,” said Alison, her face smug. “I'm not surprised about that, not in the least,”said Malachi.“Margaret, I am lamentably short of ready cash in this season, but—”
    “I didn't come for a loan, Brother Malachi. I came for this,” I said. Reaching into the bosom of my gown, I took out his letter, all crumpled and covered with seals, folded and refolded, and stained with its far traveling.“It's a letter from Gregory that he said to bring to you.” Malachi sat down on the tall stool before the athanor, unfolded the letter and peered at it closely.
    “Wanna see my
skulls
?” Sim asked Cecily. “They're killed Frenchmen.”
    “Me, too,” said Alison. “Do Frenchmen skulls look like English? Mother Sarah says they've got horns.”
    “Sim, have you got a mother?” I could hear Cecily ask as the girls followed him to the chest in the corner.
    “Never did,” he said. “I just
came,
that's all.”
    “You're lucky,
our
mother wants us to be ladies—” but the voices faded as they dove into the trunk.
    Malachi squinted at the letter. He held it several different ways, then sighed, then scratched his head in thought. “Impossible,” he muttered, “as usual, Gilbert's out of his mind.” Clearly, this would take time. I sat down on the window seat with Mother Hilde, where clean air poured through the open shutters. Birds were at work in the garden, nesting in Mother Hilde's crabapple tree, no doubt. It always was a favorite spot with them.
    “You still call him Gregory?” asked Mother Hilde.“So do I, unless I remember. But Malachi knew him in their student days, so he's always called him Gilbert.”
    “I try to remember not to call him Gregory when I'm in company. He really doesn't want people remembering he was ever at the abbey—there's so much gossip, you know, and now his writing has put him in favor with the Duke—but it
is
the name I first knew him under—”
    “Ah well, it's worse with lords. Every time they get new lands, they're my lord something else.”
    “Certainly not our problem, Mother Hilde.” With a shout, Malachi stood suddenly, his round, pink face alight. “Eureka!” he cried.
    “That's Greek,” said Mother Hilde, looking pleased. “It means he's happy. Such a brilliant man, such a mind! He's even happy in other languages.”
    “Margaret,” he said, rounding the big brick athanor and approaching the window seat, “this recipe is a hash. I've come to the conclusion the letter is a code. Gilbert wrote it to evade the censors.”
    “Exactly my thought—but is he all right? Does he say when he'll be home?”
    “I'm coming to that, I'm coming to that. The key is alchemical— that, and certain common turns of phrase based on our long acquaintance. It is a code decodable only by me.” Malachi extended the letter and pointed to the recipe. “You see here? Gold stands forthe king, and the conversion of the plain cloth to making France ours. Now, here, where the gold precipitates out in solution—that means the king has lost, Margaret, and is coming home. Let's see, full moon in Aries—yes, some disaster, fairly recently—” “But is Gregory coming home? When? Does he say?” “Here—let's see. Ah, the devil! He knows I always used to call them Gemini. So rude of him! Hmm, yes. Mercury, the metal of Gemini. With luck, Margaret, he'll be home in late May or early June. Now here's an interesting thing, Margaret—he seems to be saying that even if the army didn't do well, he's made some money. I wonder how? He always was an