“I SAID, IS IT TRUE?”
“I said she would stay alive, Fargus—I never said at what height.”
Fargus felt the bile rise in his throat, just as it had when he had first met the Master. He looked down at the rope in his hands and glimpsed Ned’s knife sitting in his belt. He looked at the Master and asked in an even voice, “What is the name of the tanner who bought my parents?”
The Master sensed he was losing control over the boy. “I can’t recall it off the top of my head. I’ll have to look it up in my library, as soon as these intruders are dealt with. So chop-chop, my boy.”
Fargus ripped Ned’s knife out of the sheath and walked menacingly toward the Master. The Master cackled, “Go ahead, boy! You’ve served your purpose!” He raised his carving knife in order to slice Fargus in two.
But as he went to bring the knife down, Josephine charged toward him. Her hands were tied but she still had her legs. Ida was forced to run with her, since they were tied together. Josephine jumped high and lifted her right foot, kicking the Master in the chest, knocking him backward and sending the knife flying from his grasp.
The Master was furious. He pointed to Josephine. “Seaworthy! Kill her!”
Josephine looked at the old servant, terrified.
But Mr. Seaworthy didn’t budge.
“I order you, old man! Do it or face the consequences!”
But still Mr. Seaworthy did nothing. Instead, he turned to face Fargus, the one who was fated to take Mr. Seaworthy’s place, who would be left to wander the halls of this dismal manor for the rest of his pointless life. Mr. Seaworthy croaked, “The tanner was called Arthur Torrence.”
“Seaworthy!” The Master looked at him in shock and fury. “You’ll pay for that!” He began to rise.
But as soon as Fargus heard the name of the tanner, the man who had bought his parents years ago, his body filled with a wild rage. He could hear and see nothing, just white. The world moved in slow motion, and he lurched forward and plunged the knife into the Master’s heart.
Josephine screamed in horror, but Ida watched in shocked silence.
The Master fell onto the ground, stunned, a small whimper escaping his lips. He grasped his chest and reached out to Mr. Seaworthy for help, unable to draw air. He groaned and trembled and then, suddenly, he stopped breathing.
The room went silent.
Fargus seemed to wake from a dream. He looked down and saw the Master lying dead on the ground. He dropped the knife. What have I done?
Ned quickly unknotted the rope that bound Ida to Josephine. Ida walked over to the body of the Master, her hands still tied, and poked it with her toe. “That was really sick, Fargus!” And then she jumped back in disgust. The body at her feet was moving.
Ned cried, “Everyone get back!”
The Master was twitching.
“There’s no blood!” Josephine noticed.
“He’s not dead,” said Mr. Seaworthy.
And sure enough, the Master began to convulse; his eyes flipped open, and he stared up in terror. Something very strange and very wrong was happening to his face. He was growing paler, if it was possible, and sprigs of facial hair were forming on his chin. And then, miraculously, his shoulders began to broaden. His legs grew longer and his hands doubled in size.
“What’s happening?” Ned cried.
The Master began to laugh uncontrollably. “I’m aging! Finally! I can feel it!” The voice that emanated from him was deeper and richer than it had been before. Creases appeared on his forehead. He laughed again. “How do I look, Seaworthy?”
Mr. Seaworthy looked down in pity. “Very handsome, sir. A real man.”
The Master smiled, and it was not a sneer or a smirk. It was a real smile, the first one Mr. Seaworthy had ever seen on the boy.
But suddenly the smile disappeared, as the Master realized that the aging wasn’t slowing down. Wrinkles began to appear on his face, followed by age spots. In the space of seconds, his black hair turned gray and his hands shriveled with arthritis. He looked at Josephine in despair.
“Make it stop! Someone!”
Josephine went to him and knelt down, but there was nothing she knew how to do. So she took his hand and tried to comfort him.
A small pustule grew on his nose and burst, causing him to cry out in pain. A second one appeared on his cheek and pop. Soon his entire face was covered in rupturing pustules, and then his whole body.
Josephine closed her eyes, unable to watch the horror, but she could still hear him scream as they burst. She wished she were anywhere else in the world but here.
When she opened her eyes, the room had gone still. It seemed the Master’s pain had ended. He lay there unmoving, looking more old and frail than Mr. Seaworthy.
Josephine bent over his chest to see if he was still breathing, and the body jumped slightly.
“Stand back, Josephine. He’s not done!” Ned warned.
Josephine released his hand.
And then, as strangely as it had begun, the aging process began to reverse itself. The Master’s hair turned black once more, the wrinkles disappeared, his body grew smaller, and he quickly became the boy they had all known.
But it didn’t stop there.
He was an eight-year-old boy. Then seven. Then six.
“Make it stop, Seaworthy! I order you to help me!” his three-year-old self squealed.
