The Singing Well
“When the Moon Melts”
The dwarf’s hideous face retreated from the basement window, an array of grimy grey whiskers and a radish nose.
“When the moon melts
Chanted Mr. Plimsoul and the lady together. Wild shadows flickered around them, and they gestured toward the shut box, black and shiny as a beetle’s back. They seemed to be trying to compel the box to open or spontaneously erupt in flame…or something.
“Casket of Augersaal, I command you: open!” Mr. Plimsoul shouted, making a weird gesture at the box.
“By Neamiahas’ eye, by Qyudditch’s kin, I say: unfasten!” the lady hissed, her boa and her long arms gesturing in the flickering light of the braziers.
The casket hopped on the sawhorses once, as if a person inside were being tickled or kicked, and then was still. A thin jet of purple smoke sizzled from one end of the casket… and then stopped.