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she had tried to imagine it thousands of times, drawing on her ideas of all the villains she had

ever read about in books: Captain Hook, crooked-nosed and thin; Long John Silver, a false smile

always on his lips; Injun Joe, who had haunted so many of her bad dreams with his knife and his

greasy black hair. . . . But Capricorn looked quite different.

Meggie soon gave up counting the doors they passed before Basta finally stopped outside one.

But she did count the black-clad men. Four of them were standing in the corridors, looking

bored. Each man had a shotgun propped against the whitewashed wall beside him. Dustfinger

had been right: In their close-fitting black suits they really did look like crows. Only Basta wore a

snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a

red flower like a warning.

Capricorn's dressing gown was red, too. He was seated in an armchair when Basta entered the

room with the three new arrivals, and a woman was kneeling in front of him cutting his toenails.

The chair seemed too small for him. Capricorn was a tall man, and gaunt, as if the skin had been

stretched too tight over his bones. His skin was pale as parchment, his hair cut short and bristly.

Meggie couldn't have said if it was gray or very fair.

He raised his head when Basta opened the door. His eyes were almost as pale as the rest of him,

as if the color had drained out of them, but as bright as silver coins. The woman at his feet

glanced up when they came in, then bent over to resume her work.

"Excuse me, but the visitors we were expecting have arrived," said Basta. "I thought you might

want to speak to them at once."

Capricorn leaned back in his chair and cast a brief glance at Dustfinger. Then his expressionless

eyes moved to Meggie. She was clutching the plastic bag containing the book to her chest, her

arms firmly wrapped around it. Capricorn stared at the bag as if he knew what was in it. He

made a sign to the woman at his feet. Reluctantly, she straightened up, smoothed down her

black dress, and glared at Elinor and Meggie. She looked like an old magpie, with her gray hair

scraped back and pointed nose that didn't seem to fit her small, wrinkled face. Nodding to

Capricorn, she left the room.

It was a large room, only sparsely furnished: a long table with eight chairs, a cupboard, and a

heavy sideboard. There were no lamps in the room, only candles, dozens of them in heavy silver

candlesticks. It seemed to Meggie that they filled the room with shadows rather than light.

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"Where is it?" asked Capricorn. When he scraped back his chair Meggie flinched involuntarily.

"Don't tell me you've only brought the girl this time." His voice was more impressive than his

face. It was dark and heavy, and the moment she heard him speak Meggie hated it.

"She's got it with her. In that bag," replied Dustfinger before Meggie could say so herself. His

eyes wandered restlessly from candle to candle as he spoke, as if only their dancing flames

interested him. "Her father really didn't know he had the wrong book. This woman who says

she's a friend of his," added Dustfinger, pointing to Elinor, "switched the books without telling

him. She's a real bookworm. I think she lives on print. Her whole house is full of books — looks

as if she likes them better than human company." The words came spilling out of Dustfinger's

mouth as if he wanted to be rid of them. "I didn't like her from the first, but you know our friend

Silver-tongue. He always thinks the best of everyone. He'd trust the devil himself if Old Nick gave

him a friendly smile."

Meggie looked at Elinor. She was standing there as if tongue-tied. Anyone could see she had a

guilty conscience.

Capricorn merely nodded at Dustfinger's explanations. He tightened the belt of his dressing

gown, clasped his hands behind his back, and came slowly over to Meggie. She did her best not

to flinch, to look firmly and undaunted into those colorless eyes, but fear constricted her throat.

What a coward she was after all! She tried to think of some hero out of one of her books,

someone whose skin she could slip into, to make her feel stronger, bigger, braver. Why could she

remember nothing but stories of frightened people when Capricorn looked at her? She usually

found it so easy to escape somewhere else, to get right inside the minds of people and animals

who existed only on paper, so why not now? Because she was afraid. "Because fear kills

everything," Mo had once told her. "Your mind, your heart, your imagination."

Mo . . . where was he? Meggie bit her lip to stop herself from shaking, but she knew the fear

showed in her eyes, and she knew that Capricorn saw it. She wished she had a heart of ice and a

clever smile, not the trembling lips of a child whose father had been stolen away.

Now Capricorn was very close to her. He scrutinized her. No one had ever looked at her like that.

She felt like a fly stuck to flypaper just waiting to die.

"How old is she?" Capricorn looked at Dustfinger as if he didn't trust Meggie to know the answer

herself.

"Twelve!" she said in a loud voice. It wasn't easy to speak with her lips quivering so hard. "I'm

twelve. And I want to know where my father is."

Capricorn acted as if he hadn't heard the last sentence. "Twelve?" he repeated in the dark voice

that weighed so heavily on Meggie's ears. "Three or four more years and she'll be a pretty little

thing, useful to have around the place. We'll have to fatten her up a bit, though." He felt her arm

with his long fingers. He wore gold rings on them, three on each hand.

Meggie tried to pull away, but Capricorn was gripping her tightly as his pale eyes examined her.

Just as he might have looked at a fish. A poor little fish wriggling on a hook.

"Let the girl go!" For the first time Meggie was, glad Elinor's voice could sound so sharp. And

Capricorn actually did let go of her arm.

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Elinor stepped up behind Meggie and put her hands protectively on her shoulders. "I don't know

what's going on here," she snapped at Capricorn. "I don't know who you are, or what you and all

these men with guns are doing in this godforsaken village, and I don't want to know either. I'm

here to see that this girl gets her father back. We'll leave you the book you're so keen to have —

although that's enough to give me heartache, but you'll get it as soon as Meggie's father is safe in

my car. And if for any reason he wants to stay here we'd like to hear it from his own lips."

Capricorn turned his back to her without a word. "Why did you bring this woman?" he asked

Dustfinger. "Bring the girl and the book, I said. Why would I want the woman?"

Meggie looked at Dustfinger.

The girl and the book. The words kept repeating inside her head, like an echo. The girl and the

book, I said. Meggie tried to look Dustfinger in the eye, but he avoided her gaze as if it would

burn him. It hurt to feel so stupid. So terribly, terribly stupid.

Dustfinger perched on the edge of the table and pinched out one of the candles, gently and

slowly as if waiting for the pain, the sharp little stab of the candle flame. "I've told Basta already:

Our dear friend Elinor couldn't be persuaded to stay behind," he said. "She didn't want to let the

girl go with me alone, and she was very reluctant to give up the book."

"And wasn't I right?" Elinor's voice rose to such a pitch that Meggie jumped. "Listen to him,

Meggie, listen to that fork-tongued matchstick-eater! I ought to have called the police when he

turned up again. He came back for the book; that was the only reason."

And for me, thought Meggie. The girl and the book.

Dustfinger pretended to be preoccupied with pulling a loose thread from his coat sleeve. But his

hands, usually so skillful, were shaking.

"And as for you!" said Elinor, jabbing Capricorn in the chest with her forefinger. Basta took a

step forward, but Capricorn waved him away. "I've had a lot of experience with books. I myself

have had a number of books stolen from me, and I can't claim that all the books on my shelves

got there exactly as they should have done — perhaps you know the saying that all book

collectors are vultures and hunters? But you really seem to be the craziest of us all. I'm surprised

I've never heard of you before. Where's your collection?" She looked inquiringly around the big

room. "I don't see a single book."

Capricorn put his hands in his dressing-gown pockets and signed to Basta. Before Meggie knew

what was happening, he had snatched the plastic bag from her hands. He opened it, peered

inside suspiciously as if he thought it might contain a snake or something else that might bite,

then reached in and brought out the book.

Capricorn took it from him. Meggie couldn't see on his face any of the tenderness with which

Elinor and Mo looked at books. No, there was nothing but dislike on Capricorn's face — dislike

and relief. That was all.

"These two know nothing?" Capricorn opened the book, leafed through it, and then closed it

again. It was the right book. Meggie could tell from his face. It was exactly the book he had been

looking for.

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"No, they know nothing. Even the girl doesn't know." Dustfinger was looking out of the window

very intently, as if there was more to be seen there than the pitch dark. "Her father hasn't told

her, so why should I?"

Capricorn nodded. "Take these two around behind the house," he told Basta, who was still

standing there holding the empty bag.

"What do you mean?" Elinor began, but Basta was already hauling her and Meggie away.

"It means we're going to shut you two pretty birds in one of our cages overnight," said Basta,

prodding them roughly in the back with his shotgun.

"Where's my father?" shouted Meggie. Her own voice was shrill in her ears. "You've got the book

now! What more do you want with him?"

Capricorn strolled over to the candle that Dustfinger had pinched out, passed his forefinger over

the wick, and looked at the soot on his fingertip. "What do I want with your father?" he said,

without turning to look at Meggie. "I want to keep him here, what else? You don't seem to know

about his extraordinary talent. Up until now he's been unwilling to use it in my service, hard as

Basta has tried to persuade him. But now that Dustfinger has brought you here he'll do anything

I want. I'm confident of that."

Meggie tried to push Basta's hands away when he reached for her, but he took her by the back of

the head like a chicken whose neck he was going to wring. Elinor tried coming to her aid, but he

casually pointed the shotgun at her chest and forced Meggie over to the door.

When Meggie turned around again she saw Dustfinger still leaning against the big table. He was

watching her, but this time he wasn't smiling. Forgive me, his eyes seemed to say. I had to do it. I

can explain everything! But Meggie didn't want to know, and she certainly wasn't about to

forgive him. "I hope you drop dead!" she screamed as Basta hauled her out of the room. "I hope

you burn to death! I hope you suffocate in your own smoke!"

Basta laughed as he closed the door. "Just listen to this little wildcat!" he said. "I think I'll have to

watch my step with you around!"

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Chapter 15 – Good Luck and Bad Luck

It was the middle of the night, and Bingo couldn't sleep. The ground was hard, but he was

used to that.... His blanket was dirty and smelled disgusting, but he was used to that too. A

tune kept going through his head, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. It was the

Wendels' victory song.

– Michael de Larrabeiti, The Borribles Go for Broke

The cages, as Basta had called them, kept ready by Capricorn for unwelcome guests were behind

the church, in a paved area where trash containers stood next to mountains of building rubble.

There was a slight smell of gasoline in the air, and even the glowworms whirling aimlessly

through the night didn't seem to know what had brought them to this place. A row of

tumbledown houses stood behind the garbage cans and the rubble. The windows were just holes

in the gray walls, and a couple of rotten shutters hung from their hinges at such an angle they

looked as if a sudden gust of wind would blow them right off. Only the doors on the ground floor

had obviously been given a fresh coat of paint fairly recently, in a dull brown shade with

numbers painted on them clumsily, as if by a child, one for each door. As far as Meggie could see

in the dark the last door had a number 7 on it. Basta propelled her and Elinor toward number 4.

For a moment Meggie was relieved that he hadn't really meant a cage, although the door in the

blank wall looked anything but inviting.

"This is ridiculous!" said Elinor furiously as Basta unlocked and unbolted the door. He had

brought reinforcements with him from the house in the form of a skinny lad who wore the same

black uniform as the grown men in Capricorn's village, and who obviously liked to menace