"Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Curse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Delaney Joseph)

it with a stout stick.

It soon became hard work as, very gradually, the mixture turned into a thick goo which became more
and more difficult to mix. It stank as well, like something that had been dead for weeks, which wasnтАЩt
really surprising seeing as the bulk of the powder was crushed bone.

The end result would be a very strong glue, and the longer the rigger stirred, the more he began to
sweat and gasp. The Spook always mixed his own glue, and heтАЩd made me practise doing the same, but
time was very short and the rigger had the muscles for the job. Knowing that, heтАЩd started work without
even being asked.

When the glue was ready, I began to add iron filings and salt from the much smaller sacks IтАЩd brought
with me, stirring slowly to ensure they were spread evenly right through the mixture. Iron is dangerous to
a boggart because it can bleed away its strength, while the salt burns it. Once a boggart is in the pit, it will
stay there because the underside of the stone and the sides of the pit are coated with the mixture, forcing
it to make itself small and stay within the boundaries of the space inside. Of course, the problem is getting
the boggart into the pit in the first place.

For now I wasnтАЩt worrying about that. At last the rigger and I were both satisfied. The glue was ready.


As the pit wasnтАЩt finished yet, I had nothing to do but wait for the doctor in the narrow, crooked lane that
led into Horshaw.

The rain had stopped and the air seemed very still. It was late September and the weather was
changing for the worse. We were going to have more than just rain soon, and the sudden, first, faint
rumble of thunder from the west made me even more nervous. After about twenty minutes I heard the
sound of hooves pounding in the distance. Riding as though all the hounds of Hell were on his tail, the
doctor came round the corner, his horse at full gallop, his cloak flying behind him.

I was holding the SpookтАЩs staff so there was no need for introductions, and in any case the doctor had
been riding so fast he was out of breath. So I just nodded at him and he left his sweating horse munching
at the long grass in front of the church and followed me round to the side door. I held it open out of
respect so that he could go in first.

My dadтАЩs taught me to be respectful to everyone, because that way theyтАЩll respect you back. I didnтАЩt
know this doctor but the Spook had insisted on him so I knew heтАЩd be good at his job. His name was
Sherdley and he was carrying a black leather bag. It looked almost as heavy as the SpookтАЩs, which IтАЩd
brought with me and left in the barn. He put it down about six feet from his patient and, ignoring the
housekeeper, who was still heaving with dry sobs, he began his examination.

I stood just behind him and to one side so that I had the best possible view. Gently he pulled up the
priestтАЩs black cassock to reveal his legs.

His right leg was thin, white and almost hairless but the left, the one gripped by the boggart, was red
and swollen, bulging with purple veins that darkened the closer they were to the wide crack in the floor.

The doctor shook his head and let out his breath very slowly. Then he spoke to the housekeeper, his
voice so low that I barely caught the words.