Inkdeath

  ‘Back, dog!’ Orpheus’s voice made the Night-Mare freeze. ‘You don’t get him until later.’

  Mo fell to his knees beside Dustfinger’s motionless body. He wanted to lie down beside him, to stop breathing too, stop feeling, but the soldiers hauled him up and bound his hands. He hardly felt it. He could still barely breathe.

  When the Piper came up to him, Mo saw him as if through a veil. ‘Somewhere in this castle they say there’s a courtyard, an aviary with bird cages in it. Put him in one of those.’ He drove his elbow into Mo’s stomach, but all Mo felt was that he could breathe again as the Night-Mare withdrew, merging with Orpheus’s shadow.

  ‘Stop! The Bluejay is still my prisoner!’ Violante barred the soldiers’ way as they were dragging Mo along with them.

  But the Piper pushed her roughly aside. ‘He was never your prisoner,’ he said. ‘Just how stupid do you think your father is? Take her to her room!’ he ordered one of the soldiers. ‘And throw the Fire-Dancer into the courtyard, outside the cage where you lock up the Bluejay. After all, we shouldn’t part a shadow from its master, should we?’

  Another of Violante’s soldiers was lying outside the door, his young face showing his terror as he saw death coming. They lay everywhere. The Castle in the Lake – and the Bluejay with it – belonged to the Adderhead. So that was how the song ended.

  ‘What a terrible ending!’ Mo could almost hear Meggie saying. ‘I don’t want to listen to this book, Mo. Don’t you have another story?’

  57

  Too Late

  ‘Rat,’ said the Mole, ‘I simply can’t go and turn in, and go to sleep, and do nothing, even though there doesn’t seem to be anything to be done.’

  Kenneth Grahame,

  The Wind in the Willows

  The lake. Resa wanted to run when she saw the water shining through the trees at the foot of the slope, but the Strong Man held her back, pointing without a word to the tents lining the bank. The black tent could belong to only one man, and Resa leant against one of the trees growing on the steep hillside and felt all her strength failing her. They were too late. The Adderhead had reached this place before them. Now what?

  She looked at the castle lying there in the middle of the lake, like a black fruit that the Silver Prince was about to pluck. Its dark walls looked menacing – and inaccessible. Was Mo really there? Even if he was, so was the Adderhead. And the bridge leading across the lake to it was guarded by a dozen soldiers. Now what, Resa?

  ‘We can’t go over the bridge, that’s for sure,’ the Strong Man whispered to her. ‘I’ll have a look around. You wait here. Maybe there’s a boat somewhere.’

  But Resa hadn’t come all this way to wait. It was difficult finding a way over the steep slopes by the banks, and there were soldiers stationed everywhere among the trees, but their eyes were on the castle. The Strong Man led her away from the tents to the eastern bank of the lake, where trees grew all the way down to the water. Perhaps they could try to swim across the lake under cover of darkness? But it would be cold, very cold, and there were grim stories about the water of this lake and the creatures living in it. Resa’s hand went to the child in her belly as she followed the Strong Man. She felt as if it had gone into hiding deep inside her.

  Suddenly the Strong Man took her arm and pointed to some rocks projecting into the lake. Two soldiers emerged among them, as suddenly as if they had come up out of the water. As they climbed to the bank, Resa saw horses waiting under the spruce trees only a few paces from the rocks.

  ‘What does that mean?’ whispered the Strong Man as even more soldiers appeared on the rocks. ‘Can there be another way into the castle? I’ll go and look. But you’re not coming with me this time. Please! I promised the Bluejay. He’d punch my nose in anyway if he knew you were here.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t,’ Resa whispered back, but she stayed where she was, and the Strong Man slipped away as she stood under the trees, freezing, and watching him go. The water of the lake was lapping on the bank almost to the toes of her boots, and she thought she could see faces under the mirrorlike surface, faces pressed flat like patterns on the back of a ray. Shuddering, she retreated – and heard footsteps behind her.

  ‘Hey, you there.’

  She spun round. A soldier was standing among the trees, sword in hand. Run, Resa!

  She was faster than he was, with his weapons and heavy shirt of mail, but he called another man up, and this one had a crossbow. Faster, Resa! From tree to tree, hiding and then running, as children do. As she would have played with Meggie if she’d been there when her daughter was still small. All those years missed …

  An arrow drove into the tree beside her. Another buried itself in the ground just in front of her feet. Don’t follow me, Resa. I have to know you’ll be there when I come back. Oh, Mo. It’s so much harder to wait, just to keep on waiting.

  She ducked behind a tree and drew her knife. They were coming closer, weren’t they? Run on, Resa. But her legs were weak with fear. Breathing heavily, she staggered to the shelter of the next tree – and felt a large hand over her mouth.

  ‘Call and tell them you’re surrendering!’ the Strong Man whispered. ‘But don’t go towards them. Make them come to you.’

  Resa nodded and put the knife away. The two soldiers called something to each other. She felt sick with fear as she put out her arm from behind the tree and asked them not to shoot, her voice trembling. She waited until the Strong Man had crawled away – with astonishing agility for a man of his size – before she emerged from the shelter of the tree with her hands in the air. The eyes under the soldiers’ helmets widened in surprise as they saw she was a woman. Their smiles boded no good, even though they lowered their weapons, but before one of them could grab her, the Strong Man was behind them, and winding an arm around the neck of each. Resa turned away as he killed them. She threw up in the damp grass, hand pressed to her belly, afraid the child had sensed her terror.

  ‘They’re all over the place!’ The Strong Man pulled her to her feet. His shoulder was bleeding so freely that it dyed his shirt red. ‘One of them had a knife. “Watch out for knives, Lazaro,” that’s what Doria always says. That little fellow’s far cleverer than me.’ He was swaying so much that Resa had to support him. They staggered on together, further into the trees.

  ‘The Piper is here too,’ the Strong Man whispered. ‘Those were his men we saw on the rocks. Seems there’s a tunnel under the lake there, all the way to the castle. And I’m afraid there’s more bad news.’

  He looked round. Voices came over from the banks of the lake. Suppose the men’s bodies were found? The Strong Man led her to a burrow in the ground that smelt of brownies.

  Resa heard the sobbing as soon as she made her way into it. The Strong Man was groaning as he crawled in after her. Something furry crouched there in the darkness. At first Resa thought it really was a brownie. Then she remembered the description Meggie had given her of Violante’s servant. What was his name? Yes, Tullio.

  She reached for the furry hand. Violante’s servant stared at her, eyes wide with fear.

  ‘What’s happened? I’m the Bluejay’s wife! Please, is he still alive?’

  He went on staring at her with his dark eyes, which were round like an animal’s. ‘They’re all dead,’ he whispered. Resa’s heart began to falter as if it had forgotten how to beat. ‘There’s blood everywhere. They’ve locked Violante in her room, and as for the Bluejay …’

  What had they done to him? No, she didn’t want to hear. Resa closed her eyes as if that would take her back to Elinor’s house, the peaceful garden, where she could go over to Mo’s workshop …

  ‘The Piper has shut him up in a cage.’

  ‘Does that mean he’s still alive?’

  The quick nod allowed her heart to beat more regularly again.

  ‘They still need him!’

  Of course. How could she have forgotten?

  ‘But the Night-Mare has eaten the Fire-Dancer.’

&nb
sp; Oh no. It couldn’t be true. Resa buried her face in her hands.

  ‘Is the Adderhead already in the castle?’ the Strong Man asked.

  Tullio shook his head and began sobbing again.

  The Strong Man looked at Resa. ‘Then he’ll be riding over tonight. And the Bluejay will kill him.’ It sounded as if he were reciting a magic spell.

  ‘How?’ Resa cut a strip of fabric from his tunic with her knife and bandaged his wound, which was still bleeding hard. ‘How is he going to write the words if Violante can’t help him any more and Dustfinger is …’ She did not utter the word ‘dead’, as if she could make it untrue by leaving it unspoken.

  Footsteps could be heard outside, but they moved away again. Resa undid Mortola’s bag from her belt.

  ‘No, Lazaro,’ she said softly – it was the first time she had used the Strong Man’s name. ‘The Bluejay will not kill the Adderhead. They will kill him, once the Adderhead finds out that Mo can’t cure the White Book. And that will be very soon.’

  She sprinkled a few of the tiny seeds into her hand. Seeds that taught the soul what only Death could usually teach: how to take on another form.

  ‘What are you doing?’ The Strong Man tried to take the bag away from her, but Resa clutched it in both hands.

  ‘You have to place them under your tongue,’ she whispered, ‘and take care not to swallow them. For if you do that too often the animal will grow too strong, and you forget what you were before. Capricorn had a dog that was said to have been one of his men once, until Mortola tried out these seeds on him. A day came when the dog attacked her, and they killed it. At the time I thought it was just a story to scare the maids.’

  She shook all but four of the seeds back into the bag. Four tiny seeds, almost round like poppy seeds, but lighter in colour. ‘Take Tullio and go back to the cave!’ she told the Strong Man. ‘Tell the Black Prince what we saw. Tell him about Snapper too. And take care of Meggie!’

  He was looking at her unhappily.

  ‘You can’t help me here, Lazaro!’ she whispered. ‘You can’t help either me or the Bluejay. Go back and protect our daughter. And comfort Roxane. Or – no, perhaps you’d better not tell her anything yet. I’ll do it myself.’

  She licked the seeds up from her hand. ‘You never know what kind of creature you’ll turn into,’ she whispered. ‘But I hope it will have wings.’

  58

  Help from Mountains Far Away

  He thinks of the old days, when everything was created. It was so long ago! He and his brothers killed the monstrous giant Ymer then and made the whole world from his corpse. His blood became the sea, his flesh the land, mountains and cliffs arose from his bones, trees and grass grew out of his hair.

  Tor Age Bringsværd,

  The Wild Gods

  Meggie waited … while her ears were filled with screams. While Farid put out Sootbird’s black fire with white flames. While Darius soothed the children by telling them stories, his soft voice louder than usual to drown out the noise of fighting, and Elinor helped the other women to cut the ropes that the Milksop’s men had shot up into the tree on arrows.

  Meggie waited, quietly singing the songs Battista had taught her – all the songs full of hope and light, defiance and courage – while down at the foot of the tree the robbers were fighting for the children’s lives and their own. Every scream reminded Meggie of the battle in the forest in which Farid had died. But this time she feared for two boys, not one.

  Her eyes didn’t know who to look for first, Farid or Doria, black hair or brown. Sometimes she couldn’t see either of them, they moved so fast in the branches, both of them following the fire that Sootbird sent up into the huge tree like burning tar. Doria beat it out with cloths and mats, while Farid mocked Sootbird from above and sent his own flames to nest on the murderous fire like doves until their fiery plumage smothered it. He had learnt a great deal from Dustfinger. Farid was no novice now, and Meggie saw jealousy distort Sootbird’s leathery face, while the Milksop sat on his horse among the trees, observing the fighting men with as little expression on his face as if he were watching his hounds bring down a stag.

  The robbers were still defending the tree, even though they were hopelessly outnumbered. But how much longer could they fight?

  Where was he? Where was the creature she and Fenoglio had called to their aid? It had all been so quick with Cosimo!

  No one knew what Meggie had read aloud a few hours ago except Fenoglio and the two glass men, who had listened to her open-mouthed. They hadn’t even had a chance to tell Elinor about it, since the Milksop’s attack had been so sudden.

  ‘You have to give him time!’ Fenoglio had told Meggie when she put down the sheet of paper bearing his words. ‘He has to come from far away, or it couldn’t be done.’

  Just so long as he didn’t arrive only after they were all dead …

  The Black Prince was bleeding from his shoulder. Almost all the robbers were wounded by now. It would be too late. Too late.

  Meggie saw Doria just avoiding an arrow, Roxane comforting the crying children, and Elinor and Minerva desperately trying to cut another rope before the Milksop’s men could climb it. Oh, when would he come? When?

  And, suddenly, she felt the sensation, exactly as Fenoglio had described it: a trembling that shook the tree to its topmost branches. Everyone felt it. The men fighting stopped and looked at each other in alarm. The ground quivered beneath his footsteps. That was what Fenoglio had written.

  ‘Are you really sure he’ll be peaceful?’ Meggie had asked anxiously.

  ‘Of course I am!’ Fenoglio had replied in some annoyance. But Meggie couldn’t help thinking of Cosimo, who hadn’t turned out as Fenoglio imagined him. Or had he? Who could say what exactly went on in the old man’s head? Perhaps Elinor was more likely to guess than the rest of them.

  The quivering grew stronger. Branches broke, shoots, saplings. Flocks of birds flew up from the undergrowth, and the battle cries under the tree turned to screams of terror as the giant pushed his way out of the thickets.

  No, he wasn’t as tall as the tree.

  ‘Of course not!’ Fenoglio had said. ‘Of course they’re not as tall as that! It would be silly! Anyway, didn’t I tell you these nests were built on purpose to keep the people who lived in them safe from the giants? Well, there you are! He won’t be able to reach up to any of them, but the Milksop will run for it as soon as he sees the giant, that’s for sure. He’ll run as fast as his spindly legs can carry him!’

  And that was what the Milksop did, although he left it to his horse to do the running. He was the first to turn and flee. Sootbird was so terrified that he burnt himself on his own flames, and the robbers themselves stood firm only because the Black Prince made them. It was Elinor who let the first rope down to the men and snapped at the other women as they stood there, petrified, staring at the giant. ‘Throw down ropes!’ Meggie heard her shouting. ‘And get on with it, or do you want him to crush them underfoot?’

  Brave Elinor.

  The robbers began climbing, while the screams of the soldiers rang through the forest, retreating further into the distance all the time. However, now it was the giant’s turn to stop and stare up at the children, who in turn were staring down at him with both delight and terror on their little faces.

  ‘They like human children. That’s the problem,’ Fenoglio had murmured to Meggie before she began to read. ‘After a time they begin catching them, like butterflies or hamsters. But I’ve tried to write one here who’s too lethargic to do that. Although it presumably means he won’t be a very clever specimen.’

  Did the giant look clever? Meggie couldn’t say. She had imagined him as quite different. His mighty limbs were not grossly massive, and he moved only a little more ponderously than the Strong Man. For a moment, as he stood there among the trees, it seemed to Meggie that he, not the robbers, was the right size for this forest. His eyes were strange. They were rounder than human eyes, and rather like a chamel
eon’s. The same could be said of his skin. The giant was naked, like the fairies and elves, and his skin changed colour with every movement he made. When he first appeared it had been pale brown, like the bark of a tree, but now it was patterned with red like the last of the berries hanging in an almost leafless hawthorn bush that came up to his knees. Even his hair changed colour – sometimes green, then suddenly pale like the sky. All this made him almost invisible among the trees. As if the air were moving. As if the wind, or the spirit of this forest, had taken visible shape in him.

  ‘Aha! Here he is at last! Fabulous!’ Fenoglio appeared behind Meggie so suddenly that she almost stumbled off the branch where she was standing. ‘Yes, we know our craft, you and I! I wouldn’t say a word against your father, but in my view you’re the true mistress of this art. You’re still child enough to see the pictures behind the words as clearly as only children can. Which is probably why this giant doesn’t look at all the way I imagined him.’

  ‘But I didn’t imagine him like this either,’ Meggie said in a whisper, as if any loud word might attract the giant’s attention.

  ‘Really? Hm.’ Fenoglio took a cautious step forward. ‘Well, never mind that. I can’t wait to hear what Signora Loredan thinks of him, I really can’t.’

  Meggie could see what Doria, for one, thought of the giant. He was perched in the crown of the tree and couldn’t take his eyes off the apparition. And Farid was looking as captivated as he usually did only when Dustfinger was showing him a new trick, while Jink, sitting on his lap, bared his teeth in alarm.

  Meggie felt pleased. She had done it again! She had used Fenoglio’s words and her voice to go on telling the story. And, as on those other occasions, she felt exhausted and proud at the same time – and a little afraid of what she had summoned up.

  ‘So now do you have the words for my father ready?’

  ‘The words for your father? No, but I’m working on them.’ Fenoglio rubbed his lined forehead as if he had to wake up a few thoughts slumbering there. ‘I’m afraid a giant wouldn’t be much help to your father, but trust me. I’ll get that done tonight too. When the Adderhead reaches the castle Violante will receive him with my words, and the two of us will bring this story to a good ending once and for all. Oh, he really is magnificent!’ Fenoglio leant forward to get a better look at