Inkdeath ti-3

by Cornelia Funke

  'I've told you often enough, Snapper." The Black Prince spoke more sharply than usual. "Violante has more power than you think. And more men, too – even if they're all very young." He nodded to Mo. "Tell them what happened at the castle. It's time they knew."

  Resa looked at Mo. What did the Black Prince know that she didn't?

  "Yes, come on, Bluejay, tell us how you got away unscathed this time!" Snapper's voice was so openly hostile now that some of the robbers exchanged uneasy glances. "It really does sound like enchantment! First they let you out of the Castle of Night scot-free, now you're out of Ombra Castle as well. Don't say you made the Milksop immortal, too, in order to get away!"

  Some of the robbers laughed, but their laughter sounded uncomfortable. Resa was sure that many of them really did take Mo for some kind of enchanter, one of those men whose names were best spoken only in whispers, because they were said to know dark arts and could bewitch ordinary mortals with no more than a glance. How else was it possible for a man who had arrived as if from nowhere to be able to handle a sword better than most of them? And he could read and write as well.

  "Folk say the Adderhead's immortality doesn't bring him much joy!" objected the Strong Man.

  Doria sat down beside him, his eyes fixed darkly on Snapper. No, the boy certainly didn't like his rescuer much. His friend Luc, on the other hand, followed Snapper and Gecko like a dog.

  "So how does that help us? The Piper is looting and murdering worse than ever." Snapper spat. "The Adder is immortal. The Milksop, his brother-in-law, hangs at least one of us almost every day. And the Bluejay rides to Ombra and comes back unharmed."

  All was very, very quiet once more. Many of the robbers felt that the deal the Bluejay had done with the Adderhead in the Castle of Night was more than uncanny, even if ultimately Mo had tricked the Silver Prince. But the Adderhead was immortal all the same. Again and again he enjoyed giving a sword to some man the Piper had captured and making him thrust it through his body – only to follow that up by wounding the attacker with the same sword and giving him enough time to die to attract the White Women. That was the Adderhead's way of proclaiming that he no longer feared the daughters of Death, although it was also said that he still avoided getting too close to them. DEATH SERVES THE ADDER was the inscription he had had placed in silver lettering above the gates of the Castle of Night.

  "No. I was not required to make the Milksop immortal." Mo's voice sounded cold as he replied to Snapper, very cold. "It was Violante who got me safely out of the castle. After asking me to help her kill her father."

  Resa placed her hand on her belly as if to keep the words away from her unborn child. But in her mind there was room for only one thought: He's told the Black Prince what happened in the castle, but he didn't tell me. He didn't tell me…

  She remembered how hurt Meggie had sounded when Mo finally told them what he had done to the White Book before giving it to the Adderhead. "You moistened every tenth page? But you can't have done that! I was with you the whole time! Why didn't you say anything?" Although Mo had kept her mother's whereabouts a secret from her all those years, Meggie still believed that in the last resort he couldn't really have any secrets from her. Resa had never felt that. All the same, it hurt that he had told the Black Prince more than he'd told her. It hurt badly.

  "Her Ugliness wants to kill her father?" Battista sounded incredulous.

  "What's so surprising about that?" Snapper raised his voice as if to speak for them all. "She's the Adder's spawn. What reply did you give her, Bluejay? Did you say you must wait until your damn book doesn't protect him from death anymore?"

  He hates Mo, thought Resa. He really hates him! But the look that Mo turned on Snapper was just as hostile, and Resa wondered, not for the first time, whether she simply used to overlook the anger in him or whether it was as new as the scar on his chest.

  "The Book will protect Violante's father for a long time yet." Mo sounded bitter. "The Adderhead has found a way to save it."

  Yet again there was murmuring among the robbers. Only the Black Prince didn't seem surprised. So Mo had told him that, too. Had told him, and not her. He's turning into a different man, thought Resa. The words are changing him. This life is changing him. Even if it's only a game. If it's a game at all…

  "But that's impossible. If you left the pages damp it will turn moldy, and you've always said yourself that mold kills books as certainly as fire."

  Meggie sounded so reproachful. Secrets… nothing eats away at love faster.

  Mo looked at his daughter. That was in another world, Meggie, said his eyes. But his mouth said something else. "Well, the Adderhead has taught me better. The Book will go on protecting him from death only if its pages stay blank."

  No, thought Resa. She knew what was coming next, and she felt like putting her hands over her ears, although she loved nothing in the world more than Mo's voice. She had almost forgotten his face in all those years in Mortola's service, but she had always remembered his voice. Now, however, it no longer sounded like her husband's. It was the voice of the Bluejay.

  "It doesn't take long to write three words." Mo did not speak loudly, but the whole Inkworld seemed full of his voice. It seemed to have belonged here forever – among the tall, towering trees, the ragged men, the drowsy fairies in their nests. "The Adderhead still believes that only I can save the Book. He'll give it to me if I go to him promising to cure it, and then… some ink, a pen, it doesn't take more than a few seconds to write three words. Suppose Violante can gain those few seconds for me?"

  His voice painted the scene in the air, and the robbers listened as if they could see the whole thing before their eyes. Until Snapper broke the spell.

  "You're out of your mind! Totally out of your mind!" he said hoarsely. "I suppose by now you believe everything the songs say about you – how you're invulnerable! The invincible Bluejay! Her Ugliness will sell you, and her father will skin you alive if he gets his hands on you again. That won't take him much more than a few seconds! But your liking for playing the hero will cost all the rest of us our lives, too!"

  Resa saw Mo's fingers close around the hilt of his sword, but the Black Prince laid a hand on his arm. "Maybe he'd have to play the hero less frequently if you and your friends did it more often, Snapper," he said.

  Snapper rose to his feet menacingly slowly, but before he could say anything the Strong Man spoke up, quick as a child trying to settle his parents' quarrel. "Suppose the Bluejay is right? Perhaps Her Ugliness really does want to help. She's always been good to us strolling players! She even used to come and visit our camp. And she feeds the poor and sends for the Barn Owl to come to the castle when the Milksop's had some unfortunate fellow's hand or foot chopped off!"

  "Yes, very generous of her, isn't it?" Gecko made a mocking face, as he so often did when the Strong Man said anything, and the crow on his shoulder uttered a croak of derision. "What's so generous about giving away kitchen scraps and clothes no one wants anymore? Does Her Ugliness go around in rags like my mother and my sisters? No! I expect Balbulus has run out of parchment, and she wants to buy more with the price on the Bluejay's head!"

  Once again some of the robbers laughed. As for the Strong Man, he looked uncertainly at the Black Prince. His brother whispered something to him and scowled at Gecko. Please, Prince! thought Resa. Tell Mo to forget what Violante said. He'll listen to you. And help him to forget the Book he bound for her father! Please!

  The Black Prince glanced at her as if he had heard her silent pleading. But his dark face remained inscrutable. She often found Mo's face impossible to read these days, too.

  "Doria!" the Prince said. "Do you think you can get past the castle guards and ask around among Violante's soldiers? One of them may have heard more about what the Piper is here for."

  The Strong Man opened his mouth as if to protest. He loved his brother and did all he could to protect him, but Doria was at an age when a boy doesn't want protection anymore.

&nbs
p; "Of course. Easy," he said with a smile that showed how happy he was to do as the Prince asked. "I've known some of them ever since I could walk. Most aren't much older than me."

  "Good." The Black Prince stood up. His next words were for Mo, although he didn't look at him. "As for Violante's offer, I agree with Gecko and Snapper. Violante may have a soft spot for strolling players and feel sorry for her subjects, but she's still her father's daughter, and we ought not to trust her."

  All eyes went to the Bluejay.

  But Mo said nothing.

  To Resa, that silence spoke louder than words. She knew it, just as Meggie did. Resa saw the fear on her daughter's face as she began talking earnestly to Mo. Yes, by now Meggie, too, probably felt what a hold this story had taken on her father. The letters were drawing him deeper and deeper down, like a whirlpool made of ink, and once again the terrible thought that had haunted Resa with increasing frequency these last few weeks came to her: that on the day when Mo had lain wounded in Capricorn's burned-out fortress, close to death, perhaps the White Women really did take a part of him away with them to the place where Dustfinger had gone, and she would see that part of him again only there. In the place where all stories end.

  15. LOUD WORDS, SOFT WORDS

  When you go, space closes over like water behind you,

  Do not look back: there is nothing outside you,

  Space is only time visible in a different way,

  Places we love we can never leave.

  Ivan V. Lalic, "Places We Love"

  Please, Mo! Ask him!"

  At first Meggie thought she had heard her mother's voice only in a dream, one of the dark dreams that sometimes came to her out of the past. Resa sounded so desperate. But when Meggie opened her eyes she could still hear her voice. And when she looked out of the tent she saw her parents standing among the trees only a short way off, little more than two shadows in the night. The oak against which Mo was leaning was huge, an oak such as Meggie had never seen outside the Inkworld, and Resa was clutching his arm as if to force him to listen to her.

  "Isn't that what we've always done? When one of us didn't like a story anymore, we closed the book! Mo, have you forgotten how many books there are? Let's find another to tell us its story, a book with words that will stay words and not make us a part of them!"

  Meggie glanced at the robbers lying under the trees only a little way off. Many of them were sleeping in the open, although the nights were already very cold, but her mother's despairing voice didn't seem to have woken any of them.

  "If I remember correctly, I was the one who wanted to close this book long ago." Mo's voice sounded as cool as the air making its way in through the tent's ragged fabric. "But you and Meggie wouldn't hear of another one."

  "How was I to know what this story would turn you into?" Resa's voice sounded as if she hardly knew how to hold back her tears.

  Go back to sleep, Meggie told herself. Leave the two of them alone. But she stayed where she was, freezing in the cold night air.

  "What are you talking about? What's it supposed to have made me into?"

  Mo spoke softly, as if he didn't want to disturb the silence of the night, but Resa seemed to have forgotten where she was.

  "What's it made you into?" Her voice was rising with every word. "You wear a sword at your belt! You hardly sleep, you're out all night. Do you think I can't tell the cry of a real Bluejay from a human imitation? I know how often Battista or the Strong Man came to fetch you when we were at the farm… and the worst of it is, I know how happy you are to go with them. You've found you have a taste for danger! You went to Ombra although the Prince warned you not to. And now you come back, after they almost caught you, and act as if it were all a game!"

  "What else is it?" Mo was still speaking so softly that Meggie could hardly hear him. "Have you forgotten what this world is made of?"

  "I couldn't care less what it's made of. You can die in it, Mo. You know that better than I do. Or have you forgotten the White Women? No, you even talk about them in your sleep. Sometimes I almost think you miss them."

  Mo did not reply, but Meggie knew Resa was right. Mo had talked to her about the White Women only once. "They're made of nothing but longing, Meggie," he had said. "They fill your heart to the brim with longing, until you just want to go with them, wherever they take you."

  "Please, Mo!" Resa's voice was shaking. "Ask Fenoglio to write us back again! He'll try to do it for you. He owes you that!"

  One of the robbers coughed in his sleep, another moved closer to the fire… and Mo said nothing. When at last he did reply he sounded as if he were talking to a child. Even to Meggie he didn't speak like that. "Fenoglio isn't writing at all these days, Resa. I'm not even sure whether he still can."

  "Then go to Orpheus! You've heard what Farid says. Orpheus has written rainbow-colored fairies into this world, and unicorns and -"

  "So? Maybe Orpheus can add something to Fenoglio's story here and there. But he'd have to write something of his own to take us back to Elinor. I doubt if he can do that. And even if he can – from all Farid says, he's not interested in anything but making himself the richest man in Ombra. Do you have the money to pay him for his words?"

  This time it was Resa who remained silent – for so long that she might have been mute again, as she was when she left her voice behind in the Inkworld.

  It was Mo who finally broke the silence. "Resa!" he said. "If we go back now I'll be sitting in Elinor's house doing nothing but wondering how this story goes on, day in, day out. And no book in the world will be able to tell me that!"

  "You don't just want to know how it goes on." Now it was Resa's voice that sounded cool. "You want to decide what happens. You want to be part of it! But who knows whether you'll ever find your way out of the letters on the page again, if you tangle yourself up in them even more."

  "Even more? What do you mean? I've seen Death here, Resa – and I have a new life."

  "If you won't do it for me" – Meggie could hear how hard it was for her mother to go on – "then go back for Meggie… and for our second child. I want my baby to have a father, I want the baby's father to be alive when it's born – and I want him to be the same man who brought up its sister."

  Once more Meggie had to wait a long time for Mo's answer. A tawny owl hooted. Gecko's crows cawed sleepily in the tree where they roosted at night. Fenoglio's world seemed so peaceful. And Mo stroked the bark of the tree against which he was leaning, as tenderly as he usually caressed the spine of a book.

  "How do you know Meggie doesn't want to stay? She's almost grown-up. And in love. Do you think she wants to go back while Farid stays here? Because stay he will."

  In love. Meggie's face was burning. She didn't want Mo to say what she herself had never put into words. In love – it sounded like a sickness without any cure, and wasn't that just how it sometimes felt? Yes, Farid would stay. She had so often told herself that, when she felt a wish to go back: Farid will stay even if Dustfinger doesn't return from the dead. He'll go on looking for him and longing for him, much more than he longs for you, Meggie. But how would it feel never to see him again? Would she leave her heart here and go around with an empty hole in her breast ever after? Would she stay alone – like Elinor – and only read about being in love in books?

  "She'll get over it!" she heard Resa say. "She'll fall in love with someone else."

  What was her mother talking about? She doesn't know me! thought Meggie. She never knew me. How could she? She was never there with us.

  "What about your second child?" Resa went on. "Do you want the baby born in this world?"

  Mo looked around him, and once more Meggie felt something she had long known: By now her father loved this world as much as she and Resa had once done. Perhaps he even loved it more.

  "Why not?" he retorted. "Do you want it born in a world where what it longs for can be found only in books?"

  Resa's voice shook when she replied, but now it was with anger. "How can
you say such a thing? Everything you find here was born in our world. Where else did Fenoglio get it all from?"

  "How should I know? Do you really still think there's only one real world, and the others are just pale offshoots?"

  Somewhere a wolf howled and two others responded. One of the guards came through the trees and put wood on the dying fire. His name was Wayfarer. None of the robbers went by the names they had been born with. He moved away again, after casting a curious glance at Mo and Resa.

  "I don't want to go back, Resa. Not now!" Mo's voice sounded determined, but at the same time Meggie could tell he was trying to win her mother over, as if he still hoped to convince her that they were in the right place. "It will be months yet before the baby's born, and maybe we'll all be back in Elinor's house by then. But right now, this is where I want to be."

  He kissed Resa on the forehead. Then he went away, over to the men standing guard among the trees at the far end of the camp. And Resa dropped into the grass where she stood and buried her face in her hands. Meggie wanted to go to her and comfort her but what could she say? I want to stay with Farid, Resa. I don't want to find someone else. No, that would hardly be much comfort to her mother. And Mo didn't come back, either.

  16. THE PIPER'S OFFER

  The moment comes when a character does or says something you hadn't thought about. At that moment he's alive and you leave it to him.

  Graham Greene, Advice to Writers

  At last. Here they came. Trumpets rang out in a fanfare l from the city gates, an arrogant metallic sound. Just like the man it announced, Fenoglio thought. The Milksop – the common people always found the most suitable names. He couldn't have thought of a better one himself, but then he hadn't invented this pallid upstart, either! Not even the Adderhead had his arrival announced by long-stemmed trumpets, but his pigeon-chested brother-in-law had only to ride around the castle and they struck up.