Читать книгу The Gargoyle Overhead - Philippa Dowding - Страница 12

Mark of the Stonemason

A few nights later, Katherine was standing at the bottom of the stairs to Cassandra’s rooftop once again. Without saying it out loud, Katherine and Gargoth had reached an agreement about the stairs: Katherine now carried Gargoth up in the backpack. He didn’t get out or even let on that they had arrived at the store until they reached the rooftop.

Cassandra greeted them happily at the top of the stairs, standing amid a blaze of one hundred and forty-eight flaming orange-scented pumpkin candles.

“Hi, Katherine! Hi, Gargoth!” she said. “I lit your beacon.” She exchanged a glance with Katherine.

“Thanks, Cassandra,” Katherine breathed, very relieved that she and Cassandra would be spared any more exposure to the delights of scorched gargoyle flesh.

Gargoth climbed out of the backpack, waddled across the rooftop, and flopped onto the soft cushion. He looked dejected.

“What’s the matter?” Katherine stood over him with her arms crossed. She was so used to his moods, she barely even noticed them any more.

He was silent for a while. As usual, he wasn’t going to be rushed into anything. He pulled out his pipe and lit it, then slowly wriggled himself into a comfortable position on the cushion, blowing puffs of smoke up into the night. A streetcar rumbled loudly as it passed by far below them. A police siren wailed somewhere nearby.

Katherine sighed and went to sit beside Cassandra, who was knitting something that looked kind of like a giant green scarf. Being a giantess (or something pretty close), Cassandra had huge hands, and knitting wasn’t all that easy for her. But she never gave up, even if she maybe should have.

Katherine was about to say something when Gargoth cleared his throat. “I would tell you the beginning of a long story tonight, I think. But I fear it will be difficult for our friend Cassandra to follow along,” he said.

“I’ll translate for her, don’t worry,” Katherine answered. “It’s okay. Are you finally going to tell us what the candles are for?”

“Yes, Katherine. That and more. But first I must tell you that I fear the beacon will fail. It has taken me a long time to regain any hope…” He paused, struggling for the right words, then continued. “I think she has gone. I think Ambergine has abandoned me and will never see the beacon, and I will be forsaken here forever.”

Katherine felt a jab of sadness, hearing the longing in Gargoth’s voice. It was very rare for him to be so open with her. “Maybe if you tell us the story you want to tell, it will make waiting easier,” she said. “I really want to hear whatever it is you have to tell us.”

It was true. She really did want to hear. Gargoth was nothing if not interesting. His stories were always worth the wait.

“But first, please tell us one thing right now: what is the beacon? How is it a beacon?” she said, sounding a little desperate.

Gargoth sighed again. “Humans are so impatient!” he said, shaking his head. “Okay, Katherine. Go and climb up the chimney at the edge of the roof and look down upon the lit candles. I think you will see then.”

Obediently, she got up and tiptoed through the lit candles across the roof. As she laid her hand on the short ladder attached to the chimney, Cassandra looked up in alarm.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“He wants me to look at the pattern of the beacon.”

“Be careful! Your parents won’t be happy with me if you get hurt.”

“I’ll just be a second,” Katherine answered.

She climbed the rungs of the ladder and leaned against the old chimney, looking down over the rooftop of brightly lit candles. There was a pattern, but it didn’t mean much to her.

“What do you see?” Gargoth asked from his cushion.

“Well, I see two diamonds on top of each other, inside a giant circle, I think. It’s kind of hard to tell for sure…” she finished.

“Excellent, Katherine,” Gargoth said.

She climbed down from the chimney ladder and brushed red chimney brick dust off her hands and shorts. She carefully navigated through the candles back to her lawn chair.

“Okay, but what is it?”

Gargoth slowly got to his feet and waddled over to his friends. He turned his back on them and opened his little wings wide. “See there, between my wings, is there a mark?” he asked.

Katherine moved in closely to see what he meant. She held her head close to the little gargoyle’s back (but didn’t breathe in too deeply, Gargoth’s burnt flesh smell still lingered about him). Then she saw it: a small mark about the size of a coin, right between his shoulders, slightly closer to his right wing.

It was two diamonds one on top of the other, inside a circle, like this:

“I see it, Gargoth. But what is it?”

“It is my beacon, Katherine. It is also the mark of my creator, the stonemason who made me. He carved one on every statue that he made. But in the whole world there are only two living gargoyles who carry this mark, as far as I know. I have one…and Ambergine has the other.”