Lost for Words

Carew

The room was dark: the curtains had been drawn to keep the daylight from burning the eyes of a dying man. Colonel Blake - late of the 5th Lancers - lay in his deathbed, his chest wheezing with the effort of every breath.

A withered hand gestured from beneath the blankets, and the others in the room came closer. Adeline, the colonel's eldest child, took her father's hand in hers, holding it gently. "What is it, papa?"

"Help m'up," the old man ordered. "I wanna see who's here." Colonel Blake was a man who was not used to being disobeyed, and there was still a hint of Sheffield steel in his voice. Adeline hurried to prop him up, arranging his pillows so he would not fall back.

"There you go, papa."

Colonel Blake slowly surveyed the bedroom. "What are all these people doin' here?" he growled.

Norris stood up to address the colonel. "Well, father, we're all here to -."

"You're all vultures!" Blake declared. "All damn vultures! Waitin' to pick over my corpse as soon as soon as I go. Well, I'm not going' to have that. You can all get out."

"But, father!"

"Papa!"

The colonel narrowed his eyes at the protestors. "Out! Now!" He sat in silence as, one by one, his family filed out of the room. "Except you, Harry. You stay."

Harry, a boy of about twelve, looked anxiously at his mother, Adeline. She crouched down beside him. "Harry - do as your grandpapa says. Please."

"Yes'm." The boy hung back as the others left.

Colonel Blake waited until the pair of them were alone. "Come here," he croaked, and beckoned his grandson over. "I got somethin' to show you, boy." The old man fumbled along the side of his bed, searching for something. "Very important, this," he continued. "And I'm tellin' you about it. You got the right spirit. Your mother's too much of a stay-at-home. Your uncle's too much of an accountant. But you, Harry." With a satisfied sigh, the colonel extracted a small, carved wooden box from under his mattress and held it out. "Here."

Harry took the box and opened it. His eyes widened in surprise. "W-what is it?" he asked.

The colonel put a bony finger to his wrinkled lips. "Family secret, boy. I got it in Nepal when I was in the army. Stole it from a temple. It brought me wealth and fortune, but ... ."

"I don't understand, sir."

"You don' have to. It's magic. But what you have to do is swear to take it back to where it belongs."

"Why, sir?"

"All part of the magic, Harry. You can do it. And I know you will." The old man settled back into his pillows and closed his eyes.

"But where do I - ?" Harry began.

"Kipling," the old man whispered, his voice fading with each word. "Read your Kipling ... ."