Inkheart ti-1

by Cornelia Funke

  Elinor went around behind the closet door again, obviously to look at herself in a mirror. Meggie's comment on her clothes seemed to be bothering her after all. "Yes, I think it is very valuable," she repeated thoughtfully. "Although it's almost forgotten now. Hardly anyone seems to remember what it's about, hardly anyone seems to have read it. You can't even find it in libraries. But now and then these strange stories about it do crop up: They say it's been forgotten only because all the copies that still existed were stolen. I expect that's nonsense. Although it's not just plants and animals that die out, so do books. Quite often, I'm sorry to say. I'm sure you could fill a hundred houses like this one to the roof with all the books that have disappeared forever." Elinor closed the closet door again and pinned up her hair with clumsy fingers. "As far as I know the author's still alive, but obviously he's never done anything about getting his book reprinted – which strikes me as odd. 1 mean, you write a story so that people will read it, don't you? Well, perhaps he doesn't like his own story anymore, or perhaps it just sold so badly that no publisher was willing to bring it out again. How would I know?"

  "All the same, I don't think they stole it just because it's valuable, " muttered Meggie.

  "You don't?" Elinor laughed out loud. "My word, you really are your father's daughter! Mortimer could never imagine people doing something bad for money because money has never meant much to him. Do you have any idea what a book can be worth?"

  Meggie looked at her crossly. "Yes, I do. But I still don't think that's the reason."

  "I do. And Sherlock Holmes would think so, too. Have you ever read those books, by the way? Wonderful stuff. Especially on rainy days. " Elinor slipped on her shoes. She had strangely small feet for such a sturdily built woman.

  "Perhaps there's some kind of secret in it, " murmured Meggie, thoughtfully caressing the close-printed pages.

  "You mean something like invisible messages written in lemon juice or a map hidden in one of the pictures showing where to find treasure?" Elinor sounded so sarcastic that Meggie felt like wringing her short neck.

  "Why not?" Meggie closed the book again and put it firmly under her arm. "Why else would they take Mo, too? The book would have been enough."

  Elinor shrugged her shoulders.

  Of course she can't admit she never thought of that, Meggie told herself scornfully. She always has to be right!

  Elinor looked at Meggie as if she had guessed her thoughts. "Listen, I tell you what, why don't you read it?" she said. "You really might find something that you don't think belongs in the story. A few extra words here, a couple of unnecessary letters there – and there's your secret message. The signpost pointing to the treasure. Who knows how long it will be before your father comes back? You'll have to do something to pass the time here. "

  Before Meggie could answer that one, Elinor bent to pick up a piece of paper lying on the carpet beside her bed. It was

  Meggie's good-bye note. She must have dropped it when she saw the book in Elinor's arms.

  "What on earth's this?" asked Elinor, when she had read it, frowning. "You were planning to go and look for your father? Where, for heaven's sake? You're even more foolish than I thought. "

  Meggie pressed Inkheart close to her. "Who else is going to look for him?" she said. Her lips began to tremble, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

  "Well then, we'll just have to go and look for him together!" replied Elinor, sounding annoyed. "But first let's give him a chance to come back. Do you think he'll be pleased to get back here only to find you've disappeared, gone looking for him in the big, wide world?"

  Meggie shook her head. Elinor's carpet was swimming before her eyes. A tear ran down her nose.

  "OK, that's all settled, then, " growled Elinor, offering Meggie a cotton handkerchief. "Blow your nose and then we'll have breakfast."

  She wouldn't let Meggie out of the house before she had eaten a roll and swallowed a glass of milk. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, " she announced, buttering her own third slice of bread. "And what's more, when your father gets back I don't want you telling him I've been starving you. Like the wicked stepmother in the fairy tale, you know. "

  An answer sprang to the tip of Meggie's tongue, but she swallowed it along with the last of her roll and took the book outside.

  10. THE LION'S DEN

  Look. (Grown-ups skip this paragraph.) I'm not about to tell you this book has a tragic ending, I already said in the very first line how it was my favorite in all the world. But there's a lot of bad stuff coming.

  William Goldman, The Princess Bride

  Meggie sat on the bench behind the house. Dustfinger's burnt-out torches were still stuck in the ground beside it. She didn't usually hesitate so long before opening a book, but she was afraid of what was waiting for her inside this one. That was a brand-new feeling. She had never before been afraid of what a book would tell her. Far from it. Usually, she was so eager to let it lead her into an undiscovered world, one she had never been to before, that she often started to read at the most unsuitable moments. Both she and Mo often read at breakfast and, as a result, he had more than once taken her to school late. And she used to read under the desk at school, too, and late at night in bed until Mo pulled back the covers and threatened to take all the books out of her room so that she'd get enough sleep for once. Of course he would never have done such a thing, and he knew she knew he wouldn't, but for a few days after such a threat she would put her book under her pillow around nine in the evening and let it go on whispering to her in her dreams, so that Mo could feel he was being a really good father.

  She wouldn't have put this book under her pillow for fear of what it might whisper to her. For the very first time in her life Meggie wasn't sure that she wanted to enter the world waiting for her between the covers of a book. All the bad things that had happened over the last three days seemed to have come out of this book, and perhaps they were only a faint reflection of what still awaited her inside it.

  All the same, she had to begin. Where else was she to look for Mo? Elinor was right; there was no point in simply running off at random. She had to look for Mo's trail among the printed letters in Inkheart. But she had hardly opened it at the first page when she heard footsteps behind her.

  "You'll get sunstroke if you keep on sitting in the full sun light, " said a familiar voice.

  Meggie spun around.

  Dustfinger made her a bow. Of course his face wore its usual smile. "Well, what a surprise!" he said, leaning over her shoulder and looking at the open book on her lap. "So it's here after all. You've got it. "

  Meggie was still looking uncomprehendingly at his scarred face. How could he stand there acting as if nothing had happened? "Where've you been?" she snapped. "Didn't they take you, too? And where's Mo? Where have they taken him?" She couldn't get the words out fast enough.

  But Dustfinger took his time answering. He examined the bushes all around as if he had never seen anything like them before. He was wearing his coat, although the day was so hot that perspiration stood out in gleaming little beads on his fore head. "No, they didn't take me, too, " he said at last, turning to face Meggie again. "But I saw them drive off with your father. I ran after them, right through the undergrowth, a couple of times I thought I'd break my neck going down that wretched slope, but I got to the gate just in time to see them driving off south. Naturally I recognized them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them."

  Meggie was staring at his lips as if she could make the words come out of them faster. "Do you know where they've taken Mo?" Her voice shook with impatience.

  "To Capricorn's village, I think. But I wanted to be sure," said Dustfinger, taking off his coat and draping it over the bench, "so I ran after them. I know it sounds silly to run after a car," he added, when Meggie frowned in disbelief, "but I was so furious. It had all been for nothing – my warning you, the three of us coming here… Well, I managed to hitch a lift to the
next village. They'd filled up the fuel tank there, four men in black, not very friendly. And they hadn't been gone long. So I… er… borrowed a moped and tried to go on after them. Don't look at me like that – you can set your mind at rest – I took the moped back later. It wasn't particularly fast, but luckily the roads are very, very winding here, and I eventually saw them again far down in the valley, while I was still making my way around the bends above them. So then I was sure they were taking your father to Capricorn's headquarters.

  Not to one of his hideouts farther north, but straight to the lion's den. "

  "The lion's den, " Meggie repeated. "Where is it?"

  "About three hundred kilometers south of here, I'd say. " Dustfinger sat down on the bench beside her and blinked as he peered at the sun. "Not far from the coast. " Once again, he looked at the book still lying on Meggie's lap. "Capricorn's not going to be pleased when his men bring him the wrong book, " he said. "I only hope he doesn't take his disappointment out on your father. "

  "But Mo didn't know it was the wrong book! Elinor swapped them in secret." There they came again, those infuriating tears! Meggie wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Dustfinger wrinkled his brow, looking at her as if he wasn't sure whether to believe her.

  "She says she just wanted to look at it! She had it in her bedroom. Mo knew the secret place where she'd hidden it, and because the book they took was wrapped in brown paper he never noticed it was the wrong one! And Capricorn's men didn't check either. "

  "Of course not. How could they?" Dustfinger's voice was full of scorn. "They can't read. One book is just like any other to them, just printed paper. Anyway, they're used to being given anything they want."

  Meggie's voice was shrill with fear. "You must take me to that village! Please!" She looked pleadingly at Dustfinger. "I'll explain everything to Capricorn, and give him the book, and then he'll let Mo go. All right?"

  Dustfinger blinked up at the sun again. "Yes, of course," he said, without looking at Meggie. "That's probably the only solution…"

  But before he could say anymore they heard Elinor's voice calling from the house. "Well, well, what have we here?" she cried, leaning out of her open window. Its pale yellow curtain flapped in the wind as if a ghost were caught in it. "If it isn't our friend the matchstick-swallower!"

  Meggie jumped up and ran over the lawn toward her. "Elinor, he knows where Mo is!" she cried.

  "Does he indeed?" Elinor leaned on the windowsill and scrutinized Dustfinger through narrowed eyes. "Put that book down!" she snapped at him. "Meggie, take the book away from him. "

  Taken aback, Meggie turned around. Dustfinger really was holding Inkheart, but when Meggie looked at him he quickly put it back down on the bench. Then, with a nasty glance in Elinor's direction, he beckoned her over. Hesitantly, Meggie went to him.

  "Yes, all right, I'll take you to your father, even though it may be dangerous for me, " whispered Dustfinger when she was beside him. "But she stays here, understand?" He slyly nodded his head in Elinor's direction.

  Meggie looked uncertainly at the house.

  "Like me to guess what he whispered to you?" called Elinor across the lawn.

  Dustfinger cast Meggie a warning glance, but she ignored it. "He's going to take me to Mo!" she called back.

  "A good idea, " called Elinor. "But I'm coming, too. Even if the pair of you might prefer to do without my company!"

  "We certainly might!" muttered Dustfinger, smiling guilelessly at Elinor. "But who knows, perhaps we can swap her for your father! I daresay Capricorn could do with another maidservant. I know she's no good at cooking, but perhaps she can do the laundry – even if that's not something you learn from books. "

  Meggie had to laugh – although she couldn't tell from Dustfinger's face if he was joking or meant it seriously.

  11. A COWARD

  Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way.

  Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

  Dustfinger did not steal into Meggie's room until he was quite sure she was asleep. She had locked her door. Undoubtedly Elinor had persuaded her to do that because she didn't trust him and because Meggie had refused to give Ink heart back to her. Dustfinger couldn't help smiling as he inserted the thin wire into the lock. What a stupid woman she was, in spite of all those books she'd read! Did she really think such an ordinary lock was any obstacle? "Well, perhaps it might be for fat fingers like yours, Elinor!" he whispered to himself as he opened the door. "But my fingers play with fire, and it's made them quick and skillful. "

  His liking for Silvertongue's daughter was a more serious obstacle, and his guilty conscience didn't make matters any easier. Yes, Dustfinger did have a guilty conscience as he crept into Meggie's room, although he hadn't come to steal the book. Naturally Capricorn still wanted it – the book and Silvertongue's daughter, too, those were his new orders. But that must wait. Tonight, Dustfinger was there for a different reason. Tonight, something that had been gnawing at his heart for years drove him to Meggie's room.

  He stood thoughtfully beside the bed, looking at the sleeping girl. Betraying her father to Capricorn had not been particularly difficult, but with her it would be different. Her face reminded Dustfinger of another one, although no grief had yet left dark shadows on Meggie's childish features. Strange, every time the girl looked at him he felt a wish to show her that he didn't deserve the distrust he always saw in her eyes, even when she was smiling at him. She looked at her father in a very different way – as if he could protect her from all the dark and evil in the world. What a stupid, stupid idea! No one would be able to protect her from that.

  Dustfinger stroked the scars on his face and frowned. Enough of such useless thoughts. He would bring Capricorn what he wanted: the girl and the book. But not tonight.

  Gwin moved on his shoulder, trying to wriggle out of his collar, which he liked as little as he liked the dog's leash Dustfinger always carried with him. He wanted to go hunting, but Dustfinger wasn't letting him out. Last night the marten had run away from him while he was talking to Basta. The furry little devil was still afraid of Basta. Dustfinger couldn't blame him.

  Meggie was sleeping soundly, her face buried in a gray sweater, probably her father's. She murmured something in her sleep but Dustfinger couldn't make out what. Once again his guilty conscience stirred, but he pushed the tiresome feeling away. He couldn't do with that kind of thing, not now and not later. The girl was nothing to do with him, and he was quits with her father now. Yes, quits. He had no reason to feel like a miserable double-dealing villain.

  He looked around the dark room in search of something. Where would Meggie put the book? There was a red box beside her bed. Dustfinger lifted the lid. Gwin's chain clinked softly as he leaned forward.

  The box was full of books – wonderful books. Dustfinger took out the flashlight from under his coat and shone it on them. "Look at that!" he murmured. "What beauties! Like a party of ladies dressed in their best to go to a prince's ball. " Silvertongue had probably rebound them after Meggie's little fingers had worn out the old bindings. Yes, of course, there was his sign, the unicorn's head. Each book bore it, and each was bound in a different color. All the hues of the rainbow were gathered together in that box.

  The book Dustfinger was looking for was right at the bottom. With its silvery green binding it looked plain, a poor thing among all the other grand and lordly volumes.

  It didn't surprise Dustfinger that Silvertongue had given this book such a plain dress to wear. Very likely Meggie's father hated it as much as he loved it. Dustfinger carefully extracted it from the other books. It was almost nine years since he last had it in his hands. At the time it had still had a cardboard binding and a torn paper dust jacket.

  Dustfinger raised his head. Meggie sighed and moved until her sleeping face was turned his way. How unhappy she looked. She must be having a nightmare. Her lips quiv
ered, and her hands clutched the sweater as if she were looking for something – or someone – to give her security. But you are usually alone in nightmares, dreadfully alone. Dustfinger remembered many of his own bad dreams and, for a moment, he was tempted to put out his hand and wake Meggie. What a softhearted fool he was!

  He turned his back to the bed. Out of sight, out of mind. Then he opened the book hastily before he could think better of it. His breathing was heavy – as if he had filled his mouth with liquid in preparation for breathing fire. He leafed through the first few pages and began to read, slowly turning page after page after page. But with every page his fingers hesitated a little longer, until suddenly he closed the book. Moonlight was seeping through the cracks in the shutters. He had no idea how long he had been standing there, his eyes lost in the labyrinth of letters. He had always been a very slow reader…

  "Coward!" he whispered. "Oh, what a coward you are, Dustfinger!" He bit his lips until they hurt. "Come on!" he told himself. "This may be your last chance, you fool! Once Capricorn has the book he'll never let you look at it again. " Once more, he opened the book, leafed rapidly through to about the middle – and closed it again, with a sound loud enough to make Meggie give a little start in her sleep and bury her head under the covers. Dustfinger waited motionless beside the bed until she was breathing regularly again, then leaned over her treasure chest with a deep sigh and put the book back under the others.

  Soundlessly, he closed the lid.

  "Did you see that, Gwin?" he whispered to the marten. "I just dare not look. Wouldn't you rather find a braver master? Think it over. " Gwin chattered softly in his ear, but if that was an answer Dustfinger didn't understand it.

  For a moment he went on listening to Meggie's quiet breathing, then stole back to the door. "Well, what does it matter?" he muttered when he was out in the corridor. "Who wants to know the end of a story in advance?"