Inkdeath (72 page)

"Please, Battista," Mo had said, "why don’t you, at least, write a song telling the true story? About the people who helped the Jay and the Fire-Dancer. About the swift and the boy!"

Battista had promised Mo to write a song like that, but Fenoglio only shook his head.

"No one will sing it, Meggie. People don’t like their heroes to need help, particularly not from women and children."

No doubt he was right. Perhaps that meant Violante would have a hard time on the throne of Ombra, although all its people were cheering her today. Jacopo stood beside his mother. He looked more like a small copy of his father every day, but all the same he still reminded Meggie even more of his sinister grandfather. She shuddered to think how ready Jacopo had been to deliver the Adderhead up to Death even though that had been the saving of Mo.

Another widow now ruled the country on the far side of the forest, and she, too, had a son and was taking care of the throne for him. Meggie knew that Violante expected war, but no one wanted to think of that today. This day belonged to the children who had come home. Not one of them was missing, and the strolling players sang about Farid’s fire, the tree full of nests, and the giant who had so mysteriously come out of the mountains at just the right moment.

"I’ll miss him," Elinor had whispered as he disappeared among the trees, and Meggie felt the same. She would never forget how the Inkworld was reflected on his skin, or how light-footed he was when he strode away, so gentle in such a big body.

"Meggie!" Farid made his way through the women and children. "Where’s Silvertongue?"

"With my mother," she replied—and was surprised to find that her heart beat no faster than usual at the sight of him. When had that changed?

Farid frowned. "Yes, yes," he said, "and Dustfinger’s with his minstrel woman again.

He kisses her so often you might think her lips tasted of honey."

Oh dear. Farid was still jealous of Roxane.

"I think I’ll go away for a while," he said.

"Go away? Whereto?"

Behind Meggie, Elinor and Fenoglio began arguing over something Elinor didn’t like about the look of the castle. Those two loved arguing with each other, and they had plenty of opportunity for arguments because they were neighbors now. The bag in which Elinor had packed all kinds of things that might come in useful in the Inkworld, including her silver cutlery, was still standing in her house in the other world ("Well, I was very excited, it’s easy to forget such things then! "), but fortunately she had been wearing the Loredan family jewels when Darius read them both over, and Rosenquartz had sold them for her so cleverly ("Meggie, you’ve no idea what a shrewd businessman that glass man is!") that now she was the proud possessor of a house in the street where Minerva lived.

"Where to?" Farid made a fiery flower grow between his fingers and placed it on Meggie’s dress. "Oh, I think I’ll just stroll from village to village the way Dustfinger used to."

Meggie looked at the burning flower. The flames faded like real petals, and only a tiny spot of ash was left on her dress. Farid. His mere name used to quicken her pulse, but now she hardly listened as he told her about his plans, all the marketplaces where he would put on a show, the mountain villages, the far side of the Wayless Wood. Her heart leaped only when she suddenly saw the Strong Man standing there with the women. A few of the children had climbed onto his shoulders, just as they often used to in the cave, but she couldn’t see the face she was looking for beside him. Disappointed, she let her eyes wander on, and blushed when Doria was suddenly standing there in front of her. Farid abruptly fell silent, and looked at the other boy in the same way as he so often looked at Roxane.

The scar on Doria’s forehead was as long as Meggie’s middle finger. "A blow with a spiked mace, not particularly well aimed" Roxane had said. "Head wounds bleed a lot, so they probably thought he was dead." Roxane had nursed him for many nights on end, but Fenoglio’s opinion was still that Doria was alive thanks only to the story he had written long ago about the boy’s future. "And anyway, even if you want to believe it was Roxane who made him better, then who made up Roxane, may I ask?"

He was certainly his old self again.

"Doria! How are you?" Meggie involuntarily put out her hand and caressed the scar on his forehead. Farid gave her a strange look. "Fine. My head’s as good as new."

Doria brought something out from behind his back. "Is this what they’re like?"

Meggie stared at the tiny wooden airplane he had made.

"That’s how you described them, isn’t it? The flying machines."

"But you were unconscious!"

He smiled and put his hand to his head. "The words are in here, all the same. But I don’t know how the music thing is supposed to work. You know, the little box that plays music."

Meggie had to smile. "Oh yes, a radio. That wouldn’t be any good here. I don’t know just how to explain it to you. . . ."

Farid was still looking at her. Then he abruptly took her hand. "Excuse us," he told Doria, and led Meggie into the nearest doorway. "Does Silvertongue know how you look at him?"

"Look at who?"

"Who!" He passed his finger over his forehead as if tracing Doria’s scar. "Listen," he said, stroking her hair back. "Why don’t you come with me? We could go from village to village together.

The way we did when we and Dustfinger were following your I mother and father.

Do you remember?"

How could he ask that?

Meggie looked over her shoulder. Doria was standing beside i Fenoglio and Elinor.

Fenoglio was looking at the airplane.

"I’m sorry, Farid," she said, gently removing his hand from her shoulder. "But I don’t want to leave."

"Why not?" He tried to kiss her, but Meggie turned her face away. Even though she felt tears coming to her eyes. Do you remember?

"I wish you luck," she said, kissing him on the cheek. He still I had the most beautiful eyes of any boy she’d ever seen. But now I her heart beat so much faster for someone else.

Almost five months later a baby will be born at the lonely farm lVwhere the Black Prince once hid the Bluejay. It will be a boy, dark-haired like his father, but with his mother and sister’s eyes. He will think that every wood is full of fairies, that a glass man sleeps on every table so long as there’s some parchment on it that books are written by hand, and that the most famous of illuminators paints with his left hand because his right hand is made of leather. He will think that strolling players breathe fire and perform comic plays in every marketplace, that women always wear long dresses, and that soldiers stand at every city gate.

And he will have a great-aunt called Elinor who tells him there’s a world that is not like this one. A world with neither fairies nor glass men, but with animals who carry their young in a pouch in front of their bellies, and birds with wings that beat so fast it sounds like the humming of a bumblebee, with carriages that drive along without any horses, and pictures that move of their own accord. Elinor will tell him how, long ago, a horrible man called Orpheus brought his parents out of that world and into this one by magic, and how this Orpheus finally had to flee from his father and the FireDancer to the northern mountains, where it’s to be hoped he froze to death. She will tell him that even the most powerful men don’t carry swords in the other world, but there are much, much more terrible weapons there. (His father owns a very fine sword, kept wrapped in a cloth in his workshop. He hides it from the child, but sometimes the boy will secretly unwrap it and run his fingers over the shiny blade.) Elinor will tell him amazing things about that other world. She will even claim that the people there have built coaches that can fly, but he doesn’t really believe that, although Doria has made wings for his sister, and Meggie really did fly from the city wall to the river wearing them. The boy laughed at her, all the same, for he knows more about flying than Meggie. That’s because he sometimes grows wings at night, and he and his mother fly up into the trees. But perhaps he’s just dreaming it. He dreams it almost every night, but he’d like to see the flying coaches all the same, and the animals with pouches, the moving pictures, and the house that Elinor is always talking about. A house full of books not written by any hand books that are sad, because they’re waiting for Elinor.

"Someday we’ll go and visit them together," Elinor often says, and Darius nods.

Darius can tell wonderful stories, too, about flying carpets and genies in bottles.

"Someday the three of us will go back, and then I’ll show you all these things."

And the boy runs to the workshop where his father is making leather clothes for books that are often illustrated with pictures painted by the famous Balbulus himself, and says, "Mo!" He always calls his father Mo, he doesn’t know why, perhaps because that’s what his sister calls him. "When are we going to the other world, the one you came from?"

And his father puts him on his lap and runs his fingers through his dark hair, and says, like Elinor, "I’m sure we will someday. But we’d need words for that, exactly the right words, because only the right words unlock the doors between worlds, and the only person who could write them for us is a lazy old man. What’s more, I’m afraid he’s getting more forgetful every day."

Then he tells him about the Black Prince and his bear, the giants that they’ll go to see someday, and the new tricks the Fire-Dancer has taught the flames. And the boy will see, in his father’s eyes, that he is very happy and not at all homesick for the other world. Any more than his sister is. Or his mother.

So the boy will think that perhaps he’ll have to go alone one day, if he wants to see that world. And he’ll have to find out which old man his father means, because there are several in Ombra. Maybe he means the one who has two glass men and writes songs for the strolling players and for Violante, whom everyone calls Her Kindliness, and who is much better liked than her son. Battista calls this old man Jnkweaver, and Meggie sometimes goes to see him. Maybe he’ll go with her next time, so that he can ask him for the words that open doors. Because it must be exciting in that other world, much more exciting than in his own. . . .

AN A-Z OF THE INKWORLD

Adderhead, also known as the Silver Prince

The most cruel prince in the Inkworld, a warmongering tyrant who fears only death. I Violante’s father. Also known as the Adder. Wears rubies at the corners of his nostrils. Lives in a the Castle of Night. Inlnkspell, E Mo binds the White Book for him, thereby granting him immortality, but by Inkdeath I he is diseased, rotting, and desperate for a cure.

Anselmo

A young guard at the gates of Ombra Castle.

Badger’s Earth

One of the robbers’ hideouts.

Balbulus

Master illuminator of manuscripts at Ombra Castle. His right hand is cut off by the Piper as a punishment.

Barn Owl

Physician and friend to Dustfinger. Founder of the infirmary near the Castle of Night, later in Ombra.

Basta

One of Capricorn’s most devoted _ henchmen. Superstitious and obsessed with his knife, he once slashed Dustfinger’s face, leaving the fire-eater scarred. U At the end of Inkhea’rt, he made his escape, followed by Capricorn’s mother, Mortola.

Battista

A strolling player, a mask-maker, disfigured by pockmarks.

Bear

The Black Prince’s constant companion.

Bella

Healer in the Barn Owl’s infirmary.

Benedicta

Minstrel woman.

Black Prince

King of the strolling players, leader of the Motley Folk and, later, of the noble robbers. A master knife-thrower, secretive champion of the poor, and Dustfinger’s best friend from long ago. Accompanied wherever he goes by his faithful black bear.

Also known simply as the Prince.

Bluejay

A legendary robber made up by Fenoglio. Recognizable by the scar on his left arm, The subject of many heroic songs. In Inkdeath, Mo—Fenoglio’s inspiration for the character— takes over the name and the part. Also called the Jay.

Brianna

Willful daughter of Dustfinger md Roxane. Paramour of Cosimo the Fair. Worked for Violante as a maid until she was cast out for betraying her with her husband.

Later worked for Orpheus.

Capricorn

The brutal leader of a gang of mercenary fire-raisers and extortionists, he was read out of the pages of Inkheart and into our world by Mo. Unlike Dustfinger, Capricorn was happy to escape the story and made it his mission to burn every remaining copy of the book in an attempt to prevent ever being read back into it. But eventually, with the help of Meggie and Fenoglio, he is destroyed by Mo. Son of Mortola.

Capricorn’s Fortress

The hideout of Capricorn’s robbers and fire-raisers in the WayLess Wood. The place where Mo and Resa first enter the JnkworLd, and where Mortola wounds Mo.

Capricorn’s Village

An isolated place in Liguria, Italy, where the final showdown of Inkheart takes place.

Carandrella

A deserted village below the strolling players’ graveyard.

Carla

Assistant in the Barn Owl’s infirmary.

Castle in the Lake

Childhood home of Violante’s mother. Approached by the mist-covered Impregnable Bridge. Appears to float on the Black Lake, which is also known as the Giants’

Mirror because the enormous creatures once came there to gaze at their reflections in the water. The castle has a windowless, multitowered façade, but the walls of some of the rooms inside are painted with wonderful, picture-book scenes, and the Hall of a Thousand Windows in the west wing is flooded with daylight. Scene of the final struggle in Inkdeath.

Castle of Night

The Adderhead’s castle, where Mo binds the White Book in Inkspell.

Cerberus

Orpheus’s slavering dog.

Cloud-Dancer

Strolling player. Former tightrope-walker. Message-carrier and friend of Dustfinger.

Killed by Basta in Inkspell.

Cosimo the Fair