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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

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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 quivered, 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 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?"

He climbed up to the attic bedroom Elinor had given him and lay down on the narrow bed with

the crates of books towering around it. But he could not sleep until morning came.

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Chapter 12 – Going Farther South

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with weary feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

– J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

After breakfast the next morning Elinor spread a crumpled road map out on the kitchen table.

"Right, three hundred kilometers south of here," she said with a wary glance at Dustfinger. "So

show us exactly where we have to look for Meggie's father."

Meggie looked at Dustfinger, her heart thudding. There were dark shadows around his eyes, as if

he had slept very badly. Hesitantly, he came over to the table, rubbing his stubbly chin. He bent

over the map, scrutinized it for what seemed an eternity, and finally pointed with his finger.

"There," he said. "Capricorn's village is right there."

Elinor looked over his shoulder. "Liguria," she said. "Aha. And what is the name of this village, if I

may ask? Capricornia?" She was examining Dustfinger's face as if tracing his scars with her eyes.

"It doesn't have a name." Dustfinger responded to her gaze with unconcealed dislike. "I expect it

had one once, but the name was already forgotten before Capricorn settled there. You won't find

it on this map, or any other either. To the rest of the world the village is just a collection of

tumbledown houses along what can hardly be called a road."

"Hmm." Elinor bent closer to the map. "I've never been in that region. I was in Genoa once. I

bought a very fine edition of Alice in Wonderland there, in good condition and for half what it

was worth." She looked inquiringly at Meggie. "Do you like Alice in Wonderland!"

"Not particularly," said Meggie, staring at the map. Elinor shook her head at such childish folly

and turned back to Dustfinger.

"What does this Capricorn do when he's not stealing books and abducting people's fathers?" she

asked. "If I understand Meggie correctly, you know him pretty well."

Dustfinger avoided her eyes and ran his finger along a blue river winding its way through the

green and pale brown of the map. "We come from the same place," he said. "But apart from that

we don't have much in common."

Elinor looked at him so penetratingly that Meggie wouldn't have been surprised to see a hole

suddenly appear in his forehead. "There's one thing that strikes me as strange," Elinor said

"Meggie's father wanted to keep Inkheart safe from this Capricorn. So why bring the book here

to me? He was practically running into Capricorn's arms!"

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Dustfinger shrugged his shoulders. "Well, perhaps he just thought your library would be the

safest hiding place."

A memory stirred in Meggie's mind. At first, she couldn't identify it, but then it all came flooding

back to her, perfectly clearly, as vivid as a picture in a book. She saw Dustfinger standing beside

their camper van at the gate of the farmhouse, and it was almost as if she heard his voice again. .

. .

She looked at him in horror. "You told Mo that Capricorn was in the north!" she said. "He

specially asked, and you said you were sure of it."

Dustfinger examined his fingernails.

"Well, yes . . . yes, that's right," he admitted without looking at Meggie or Elinor. He just went on

staring at his nails. Finally, he rubbed them on his sweater as if to remove an ugly mark. "You

don't trust me," he said hoarsely, still without looking at them. "Neither of you trust me. I — I

can understand that, but I wasn't lying. Capricorn has two main headquarters and several

smaller hideouts in case things get too hot for him, or one of his men needs to disappear for a

while. He usually spends the summer months in the north and doesn't come south until October,

but this year he's obviously spending the summer down in the south. How would I know why?

Perhaps he had trouble with the police in the north. Perhaps he has business of some kind in the

south and wants to see to it personally." His voice sounded injured, like the voice of a child

unjustly accused. "In any case, his men drove south with Meggie's father, I saw them go myself,

and when Capricorn is m the south he always does anything of importance in that village. He

feels safe in it, safer than anywhere else. He's never had any trouble with the police there, he can

act like a king, as if the whole world belonged to him. He makes the laws, he decides what

happens, he can do or not do anything he likes. His men take care of that. Believe you me, I

understand these things." Dustfinger smiled. It was a bitter smile. It seemed to be saying: If you

only knew! But you don't know anything. You don't understand anything.

Meggie felt unease spread through her again. It was not caused by what Dustfinger said, but by

what he wasn't saying. Nothing is more frightening than a fear you cannot name.

Elinor seemed to be feeling the same. "For heaven's sake, don't make such a mystery of it!" She

snapped, "I'm asking you again, what does this Capricorn do? How does he earn his money?"

Dustfinger crossed his arms. "You won't get any more information out of me. Ask him yourself.

Even taking you to his village could cost me dearly, so am I going to tell you about Capricorn's

business? Not likely!" He shook his head. "I warned Meggie's father. I advised him to bring

Capricorn the book of his own free will, but he wouldn't listen. If I hadn't warned him,

Capricorn's men would have found him much sooner. Ask Meggie! She was there when I warned

him. OK, I didn't tell him everything I knew. So what? I talk about Capricorn as little as possible, I

try not even to think of him, and you take my word for it, once you know him you'll feel the

same."

Elinor wrinkled her nose as if such an idea were too ridiculous for her to waste a single word on

it. "So I assume you can't tell me why he's so keen to get hold of this book?" she asked, folding up

the road map. "Is he some kind of collector?"

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Dustfinger ran his finger along the edge of the table. "All I'm going to tell you is that he wants

this book. And that's why you'd better give it to him. I once knew his men to stand outside a

man's house for four nights running just because Capricorn took a fancy to the man's dog."

"Did he get the dog?" asked Meggie quietly.

"Of course," replied Dustfinger, looking at her thoughtfully- "Believe me, no one sleeps soundly

with Capricorn's men standing outside the door looking up at their window — or their

children's window. Capricorn usually gets what he wants within a couple of days, maximum."

"Disgusting!" said Elinor. "He wouldn't have got my dog."

Dustfinger examined his fingernails again, smiling.

"Stop grinning like that!" snapped Elinor. And, turning to Meggie, she added, "You'd better pack

a few things! We set off within the hour. It's about time you got your father back. Even if I don't

like having to leave the book with this Capri-what's-his-name. I hate to see books fall into the

wrong hands."

They were going in Elinor's car, although Dustfinger would have preferred to travel in Mo's

camper van.

"Nonsense, I've never driven anything like that," said Elinor, dumping in Dustfinger's arms a

cardboard box full of provisions for the journey. "Anyway, Mortimer's locked the van."

Meggie saw that Dustfinger had an answer on the tip of his tongue, but chose to keep it to

himself. "Suppose we have to spend the night somewhere?" he asked, carrying the box over to

Elinor's car.

Heavens above, who said anything about that? I intend to be back here tomorrow morning at the

latest. I hate leaving my books on their own for more than a day."

Dustfinger rolled his eyes up at the sky, as if more sense might be expected there than in Elinor's

head, and began clambering into the backseat, but Elinor stopped him. "No, wait, you'd better

drive," she said, handing him her car keys. "You're the one who knows where we're going."

But Dustfinger gave her back the keys. "I can't drive," he said. "It's bad enough sitting in a car,

never mind driving it."

Elinor got behind the steering wheel, shaking her head. "Well, you're an oddity and no mistake!"

she said as Meggie climbed into the passenger seat beside her. "And I hope you really do know

where Meggie's father is, or you'll find out that this Capricorn of yours isn't the only person to be

frightened of around here!"

Meggie rolled down her window as Elinor started the engine. She looked back at Mo's van. It felt

bad leaving it behind here, worse than leaving a house, even this one. Strange as a place might

be, the camper van meant that Mo and she always had a bit of home with them. Now that was

gone, too, and nothing was familiar anymore except the clothes in her traveling bag in the trunk

of Elinor's car. She had also packed a few things for Mo — and two of her books.

"Interesting choice!" Elinor had commented when she lent Meggie a bag for the books, an old-

fashioned one made of dark leather that you could sling over your shoulder. "These stories

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