The Unnameables Read Online Free PDF Page B

exactly, does he?"
    "It must be in the Book somewheres," Medford said.
    "So let's find it."

CHAPTER FOUR
Bog Island
In a cold House that ye wish to heat up quick, a Log of Wood be thy Friend. For Baking and other pursuits requiring a Steady Heat, a Peat Fyre be best.
    â€”A Frugall Compendium of Home Arts and Farme Chores by Capability C. Craft (1680), as Amended and Annotated by the Island Council of Names (1718–1809)
    "F IND IT? FIND IT HOW? " Medford wondered if he sounded as squeaky to Prudy as he did to himself.
    "We'll look at the Book. We can do it right now, whilst Deemer's away."
    Medford swallowed, trying to think. Reading the Book by yourself wasn't exactly forbidden. But usually you did it in Book Learning, with Deemer glowering at your back. After Transition the Council told everyone what the Book said—and it was usually the Learned Councilor who did that, too.
    "Would the Book be out of the safe when there's no Book Learning?" Medford said, buying time.
    "I think Deemer takes it out every morning in case the Council needs it." Prudy squinted at the sun. "Dinner hour. No one will be in Town Hall. Come on."
    Medford slouched along beside her, hoping to fade into the wooden sidewalk. "Don't draw attention to yourself," Boyce had said. Well, he was trying.
    They walked up three blocks from the harbor and turned right at Merchant's General Store, white clapboard like every other building in Town. Freeman Merchant, Councilor for Trade, was standing on the porch, tidy as ever with his watered-back hair, his clean shirt nearly sparkling under his apron. He peered into his pickle barrel, poking into it with a pair of tongs.
    "Councilor Trade!" It sounded like a screech bird but actually it was Comfort Tailor, Councilor for Naming, whose haberdashery was across Main Street from the general store. Sure enough, her plump body filled her shop door. Medford and Prudy slowed down so they could listen.
    "Aye, Councilor Naming," they heard Freeman call back wearily, trying to fish out the tongs he'd just dropped into the pickle barrel. Once elected, most Councilors proudly used their Council posts as their unofficial last names. The Learneds were the exception, the Learned name being proud enough for anyone.
    "May I ask why my fine linen neckerchiefs have returned unpurchased from the Mainland Trade?" Comfort Naming demanded.
    "I've told thee before, Councilor, men don't wear linen neckerchiefs over there. They haven't done so for a century." When he was angling to become Councilor Trade, Freeman actually had spent a couple of nights on Mainland, visiting the Traders. He had returned to become the Island expert on the entire rest of the world.
    "Thou liest. I was at the Trade just last spring and the motortruck driver had on something like."
    '"Twas not the same thing, ma'am, what that driver had on. The Traders don't know what to do with thy neckerchiefs, fine linen or no."
    "As ever, sir, thou runnest the Mainland Trade as if 'twere thine own private treasury." Comfort's voice followed Medford and Prudy down the street. "I will bring it up next meeting, see if I don't."
    Marvin Glazer was standing outside his workshop, scowling at the sidewalk while Patience Waterman talked into his good ear. "They left just now," Patience said in a low voice, not even noticing as Medford and Prudy sidled past her. "No Town Meeting, no word to nobody. She's gone, my uncle says."
    Marvin grunted. "Ain't by the Book," he said.
    Patience said something more but Medford couldn't hear it. Prudy stuck a braid in her mouth and speeded up.
    Town Hall was Islands only three-story structure, even more imposing because its ground floor actually was a dozen steps up from the sidewalk. Prudy marched up as if she belonged there. Medford slunk up as if he belonged at the bottom of the harbor. "Stop looking so guilty," Prudy hissed. "Were not doing anything wrong."
    Once they were inside the door, though, she was just as sneaky as he was. She