A Dusk of Demons Read Free Page B

Antonia who spoke.
    â€œI don’t see why he shouldn’t.”
    Their looks met, Mother Ryan’s face not angry now but troubled.
    â€œYou know—that there’s a difference to be taken account of, matters to be explained.”
    â€œExplain them, then. But until you do, nothing’s changed. Let him help clear.”
    Joe stood up, towering over us. “All that which is necessary—has it been done?”
    â€œYes.” Mother Ryan’s voice was steadier. “I have seen to it myself.”
    â€œThen I will pay respects.” He made for the hall, Andy following.
    Mother Ryan said, “We should all pay respects. Leave the dishes for now, Paddy. Come, Ben.”
    The kitchen hall opened into a corridor that linked the two parts of the house. This end was lit by the lamps behind us; at the far end a wall lamp shone on the heavy oak door through which I had rarely dared venture. The corridor was hung with pictures of ships. Some displayed sails, billowing white against blue skies or reefed under stormy skies. Others were engined, but far more impressive than the Hesperus. One was a two-funneledvessel of such a size—if those dots on the deck were people—that a score of ships like the Hesperus would fit inside it.
    Joe pushed open the door. Here another hall, bigger and more elegant than ours, had lamps suspended behind crystal fingers which multiplied their light. In a high window to the right, colored glass portrayed another sailing ship against a crimson sunset.
    A second door led to the Master’s dining room, whose central feature was a long mahogany table which would normally have been covered by a damask tablecloth. Now the polished wood bore an open coffin, on which a lamp shone down.
    The Master lay in his shroud, hands folded across his chest. His long white face looked as if it were of wrinkled paper rather than flesh. There were pennies on his eyes, gold coins atop the pennies. I stared at the folded hands. I had always marveled at the immaculateness of his nails, my own being short and usually ingrained with dirt. In death they looked still longer and finer.
    Standing before the coffin, head bowed, Joespoke in a clear voice. “Duties and respects, Master. God be wi’ ye, and all Demons absent.”
    He bowed deeper and turned away. Andy repeated the ceremony, as did the others. Antonia’s voice broke, and she could not finish. When Paddy had done, I whispered, “Shall I go?”
    Mother Ryan nodded. “Yes, Ben. It’s your turn.”
    I stared at the Master’s body, finding nothing fearful but nothing which made me want to linger over the looking. I spoke, gabbling, “Duties and respects, Master. God be with you and all Demons absent.” I turned to go, but Mother Ryan’s voice halted me.
    â€œThere’s more, Ben. From you.”
    â€œMore?”
    â€œThe duty of a son.” She looked flustered, and all their eyes were on me. “Kiss your father.”
    â€œWhat?” I stepped back from the coffin. “That is the Master.”
    Mother Ryan came forward but stopped before she reached me. She stood with folded hands, as I had seen her stand in the Master’s presence.
    â€œHe was but is no longer. Kiss your father, Ben.”
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    That night the weather was wild, waking me to a rattle of windows, but it was a spring storm which pummeled the islands and moved quickly on. The Sheriff had sent word the funeral was not to be delayed, and late in the morning the sun shone as Andy and Joe bore the coffin to the grave, with raindrops still scattering from the branches of trees under which they passed. Sheriff Wilson wore a black cloak instead of the crimson one which was his normal badge of office. The gaunt face of Mr. Hawkins, the Summoner, looked even thinner and more miserable under a black pointed hat.
    Seabirds wheeled and shrieked overhead as the Summoner sought