Gravemound by Kim Fielding (best books to read for self improvement TXT) 📗

near the toe of the boot was worn away—in fact, the moonlight shone right through the hole. It must have been damned uncomfortable to wear. But that clearly wasn’t Kendo’s current concern, because he grabbed the starstick and, moving slowly around, used it to illuminate the ground as if looking for something. “Aha!” Crouching, he set the boot down, carefully placing it just so. He tossed the other boot aside; it hit the wall with a quiet thunk.

“What are you doing?” Phin asked, bewildered.

“Reapers aren’t very bright. And after the things I’ve seen them do, I don’t mind playing a small trick on this one. I’ve placed the front of the boot over a hole in the ground.”

“But why?”

“Just wait. You’ll see.”

Nothing happened for a while, so Phineas fetched the basket and they shared a small picnic beside Thozzon’s grave. When they were through eating, Kendo stroked the blanket around Phin’s shoulders. “Did Gurthcir knit this?”

“Yes.”

“I thought I recognized the pattern. She’s… still well?” He spoke hesitantly, as if not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Oh yes. She came to see me just this afternoon. She’s been very kind to me.”

“She’s my father’s sister.”

Phineas blinked at that. The woman he’d been calling auntie was, in fact, Kendo’s aunt. “Don’t you want to visit with her? I’m sure she misses you. I’m sure everyone does.”

“They miss the man who left the village a decade ago. But he’s as dead as Thozzon.” Kendo patted the gravemound for emphasis.

“But they could grow to love who you are now.”

“There’s nothing to love.”

Phin was going to argue strongly against that statement, but the reaper suddenly reappeared, a dark shape where nothing had been a moment before. It rushed to the gravemound holding a cloth sack in its claws. “See?” it hissed gleefully. “Coins!”

Kendo pointed to his boot. “You promised to fill that, but you didn’t bring enough. Pour it in.”

Although Phineas wanted to recoil when the reaper drew close, he stood his ground, trying not to retch at the foul smell. He didn’t like the way the thing moved either, alternately jerking or slithering, as if its bones were reshaping beneath its gray skin. Kendo’s breathing came louder, and somehow, irrationally, that small sign of distress gave Phin strength.

Cackling to itself, the reaper opened the sack and tipped its contents into the boot, where the coins clinked dully.

“Look at that, you fool!” Kendo said. “I told you it wasn’t enough.”

The reaper bent low to peer inside the boot, then stood straight with brow furrowed. “I thought it was plenty.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I can bring more.”

“I doubt you can bring enough.”

“I can!” the reaper cried before disappearing again.

Kendo laughed as he sat back down. “As I said. Not very smart. If he had looked carefully inside the boot, he might have been suspicious. But reapers are driven by a singleminded passion, not logic.”

“Gurthcir told me that reapers were human once.”

“So was I.”

Phineas sat very close beside him and impulsively rested his palm over Kendo’s chest. “Your heart’s beating and you’re warm. You feel human to me.”

After a long pause in which neither of them moved, Kendo sighed. He gently took Phin’s calloused warm hand in his own. “That’s not the part of me that’s gone.”

“So you have a heartbeat. And we know you have a soul because the reaper threatened to eat it. What’s missing?”

“I….” Kendo shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You’re different from who you used to be. You’re broken, maybe. But you’re still here, alive, and there’s still so much potential inside you. It’s like….” Phin thought for a moment and then inspiration struck. “Your garden. The one you planted in front of your home. It’s spent ten years untended and going wild. But Osgod says there are still plenty of valuable plants remaining. I just have to work to find them and make them strong.” Phineas wasn’t usually the type for pep talks and analogies, but it was very late and he was sitting in a cemetery with a man who was helping him wrangle with a monster. It seemed like a good time to be heartfelt and even a little eloquent.

Kendo was staring hard into Phineas’s eyes, as if trying to read a hidden message. “You believe that about me.”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

“I’ve had ten years to find myself, but I’ve only grown more lost.”

“Maybe you need a little help. God knows I’ve had plenty since I arrived here. The entire village has given me a hand—even poor old Thozzon.”

Kendo released Phin’s hand and looked down. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and neither did Phineas. He figured Kendo needed to think. After so many years of solitude, he might be overwhelmed with so many words at once.

Phineas was yawning hugely and fighting sleep when the reaper returned. It had a much larger bag and an air of smug satisfaction. “Plenty this time.”

“I doubt it,” Kendo said with an air of nonchalance. “But pour it and we’ll see.”

The reaper did, and again the coins jangled. But this time, after tossing the empty sack aside, the reaper looked into the boot, observed the paltry layer of coins across the bottom, and screeched with anger. “You have shamefully big feet!”

Kendo, who hadn’t bothered to stand, wiggled his toes. “No bigger than they should be. They’ve served me faithfully for a very long while. But you, beast, have disappointed us again. You promised riches and brought nothing but spare change. No soul for you.”

The reaper’s eyes glowed so bright that it hurt to look at them. “I’m hungry!” it howled, stomping like a petulant child.

“So? I’ve been hungry for a decade.”

Now the reaper snorted. “I’ll bring more. This time it will be plenty.” It disappeared before Kendo had the chance to doubt it.

Some clouds had crept in, softening the moonlight and warming the night air, bringing a hint of moisture. If it rained in the morning, Phin wondered what Kendo would do. Would he find shelter? Phineas sensed that if Kendo