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and a courteous tongue," said he. "They shall carry thee far through the jungle, manling.

But now go hence quickly with thy friends. Go and sleep, for the moon sets, and what

follows it is not well that thou shouldst see."

– Rudyard Kipling, The Jungle Book

They did indeed get enough to eat. Around noon a woman brought them bread and olives, and

toward evening there was pasta smelling of fresh rosemary. But the food couldn't cut short the

endless hours, any more than full stomachs dispelled their fear of what the next day might bring.

Perhaps not even a book would have done it, but there was no point thinking of that, since they

had no books, only the blank walls arid the locked door. At least a new lightbulb was hanging

from the ceiling, so they didn't have to sit in the dark the whole time. Meggie kept looking at the

crack under the door to see if night was falling yet. She imagined lizards sitting outside in the

sun. She'd seen some in the square outside the church. Had the emerald-green lizard that

scurried out of the heaps of coins found its way outside? And what had happened to the boy?

Meggie saw his frightened expression whenever she closed her eyes.

She wondered whether the same thoughts were going through Mo's head. He had hardly said a

word since they were locked up again, but had flopped down on the pile of straw and turned his

face to the wall. Elinor was no more talkative. "How generous!" was all she had muttered when

Cockerell had bolted the door after them. "Our host has graciously provided two more heaps of

moldy straw." Then she had sat down in a corner, legs outstretched, and begun staring gloomily

at her knees, then at the grubby wall.

"Mo," asked Meggie at last, when she could no longer stand the silence, "what do you think

they're doing to the boy? And what kind of a friend are you supposed to read out of the book for

Capricorn?"

"I don't know, Meggie," was all he replied, without turning around.

So she left him alone, made herself a bed of straw beside his, then paced up and down between

the bare walls. Perhaps the strange boy was on the other side of one of them? She put her ear to

the wall. Not a sound came through. Someone had scratched a name in the plaster: Ricardo

Bentone, 19.5.96. Meggie ran her finger over the letters. A little farther on there was another

name, and then another. Meggie wondered what had become of them, Ricardo, Ugo, and

Bernardo. Perhaps I ought to scratch my name here, too, she thought, just in case… but she was

careful not to think her way to the end of that sentence.

Behind her, Elinor lay down on her straw bed, sighing. \When Meggie turned to her, she forced a

smile. "What wouldn't I give for a comb!" she said, pushing the hair back from her forehead. "I'd

never have thought that in a situation like this I'd miss a comb so much, of all things, but I do.

Heavens, I don't even have a hairpin left. I must look like a witch, or a mop that's seen better

days."

"No, really, you look fine. Your hairpins were always falling out anyway," said Meggie. "Actually I

think you look younger."

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"Younger? Hmm. Well, if you say so." Elinor glanced down at herself. Her mouse-gray sweater

was filthy, and there were three runs in her stockings. "Meggie, that was very kind of you to help

me back there in the church," she said, pulling her skirt down over her knees. "My knees were

like jelly, I was so scared. I don't know what's come over me. I feel like someone else, as if the old

Elinor has driven home and left me here by myself." Her lips began to tremble, and Meggie

thought she was going to cry, but the next moment the familiar Elinor was back again. "Well,

there we are!" she said. "It's only in an emergency that you find out what you're truly made of.

Personally, I always thought if I were a wooden statue I'd be carved out of oak, but it seems I'm

more like pear wood or something else very soft. It only takes a villain like that to play with his

knife in front of my nose and the wood shavings start flaking away."

And now the tears did come, hard as Elinor tried to keep them back. Angrily, she rubbed her

eyes with the back of her hand.

"I think you're doing splendidly, Elinor." Mo was still lying with his face to the wall. "You're both

doing splendidly. And I could wring my own neck for dragging you two into all this."

"Nonsense. If anyone around here needs his neck wrung it's Capricorn," said Elinor. "And that

man Basta. My God, I'd never have thought the idea of strangling another human being would

give me such enormous satisfaction. But I'm sure if I could just get my hands around that Basta's

neck, I —"

On seeing the shock in Meggie's eyes she fell guiltily silent, but Meggie just shrugged her

shoulders.

"I feel the same," she murmured and began scratching an M on the wall with the key of her

bicycle lock. Weird to think she still had that key in her pants pocket — like a souvenir of

another life.

Elinor ran her finger down one of the runs in her stockings, and Mo turned on his back and

stared up at the ceiling. "I'm so sorry, Meggie," he said suddenly. "I'm so sorry I let them take the

book away from me."

Meggie scratched an E into the wall. "It doesn't make any difference," she said, stepping back.

The Gs in her name looked like nibbled Os. "You probably couldn't have read her back out of it

again anyway."

"No, probably not," murmured Mo and went on staring at the ceiling.

"It's not your fault," said Meggie. She wanted to add: The main thing is you're with me. The main

thing is for Basta never to put his knife to your throat again. I mean, I hardly remember my

mother. I only know her from a couple of photographs. But Meggie said none of that, for she

knew it wouldn’t t comfort Mo; it would probably just make him sadder than before. For the first

time, Meggie had some idea of how much he missed her mother. And for one crazy moment she

felt jealous. She scratched an I in the plaster — that was an easy letter — then she lowered the

key.

Footsteps were approaching outside. Elinor put her hand to her mouth when they stopped.

Basta pushed open the door, and there was someone behind him- Meggie recognized the old

woman she had seen in Capricorn's house. With a dour expression on her face, she pushed past

Basta and put a mug and a thermos jug on the floor. "As if I didn't have enough to do!" she

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muttered, before going out again. "So now we have to feed our fine guests, too! They might at

least be put to work if you have to keep them here."

"Tell that to Capricorn," was all Basta replied. Then he drew his knife, smiled at Elinor, and

wiped the blade on his jacket. It was getting dark outside, and his snow-white shirt shone in the

gathering twilight.

"Enjoy your tea, Silvertongue," he said, relishing the discomfort on Elinor's face. "Mortola's put

so much honey in the jug your mouth will probably gum up with the first sip you take, but your

throat will be as good as new tomorrow."

"What have you done with the boy?" asked Mo.

"Oh, I think he's next door to you. Capricorn hasn't decided what's to become of him yet.

Cockerell will try him out with a little ordeal by fire tomorrow, and then we'll know if he's of any

use to us."

Mo sat up. "Ordeal by fire?" he asked, his voice both bitter and mocking. "Well, you can't have

passed that one yourself. You're even afraid of Dustfinger's matches."

Watch your tongue!" Basta hissed at him. "One more and I'll cut it out, however precious it may

be."

"Oh no, you won't," said Mo, standing up. He took his time filling the mug with steaming tea.

"Maybe not." Basta lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard. "But your little daughter

has a tongue, too, and hers isn't as valuable as yours."

Mo flung the mug of hot tea at him, but Basta closed the door so quickly the mug smashed into

the wood. "Sweet dreams!" he called from outside as he shot the bolts. "See you in the morning."

None of them said a word when he was gone, not for a long, long time. "Mo, tell me a story,"

Meggie whispered at last.

"What story do you want to hear?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Tell me the one about us being in Egypt," she whispered, "and we're looking for treasure and

surviving sandstorms and scorpions and all the scary ghosts rising from their tombs to watch

over their precious grave goods."

"Oh, that story," said Mo. "Didn't I make it up for your eighth birthday? It's rather a gloomy tale,

as far as I remember."

"Yes, very!" said Meggie. "But it has a happy ending. Everything turns out all right, and we come

home laden with treasure."

"I wouldn't mind hearing that one myself," said Elinor, her voice unsteady. She was probably still

thinking of Basta's knife.

So Mo began to tell his story, without the rustle of pages, without the endless labyrinth of letters.

"Mo, nothing ever came out of a story you were just telling, did it?" asked Meggie at one point,

suddenly feeling anxious.

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"No," he said. "For that to happen, it seems that printer's ink is necessary and someone else

needs to have made up the story." Then he continued, and Meggie and Elinor listened until his

voice had carried them far, far away. Finally, they all went to sleep.

A sound woke them all. Someone was fiddling with the lock of the door. Meggie thought she

heard a muffled curse.

"Oh no!" breathed Elinor. She was the first on her feet. "They're coming to take me away! That

old woman's persuaded them! Why feed us? You, maybe," she said, looking frantically at Mo,

"but why me?"

"Go over to the wall, Elinor," said Mo as he moved Meggie behind him. "Both of you keep well

back from the door."

The lock sprang open with a muffled little click, and the door was pushed just far enough open

for someone to squeeze through it. Dustfinger. He cast a last anxious glance outside, then pulled

the door shut behind him and leaned against it.

"So, I hear you've done it again, Silvertongue!" he said, lowering his voice. "They say the poor

boy still hasn't uttered a sound. I don't blame him. I can tell you, it's a horrible feeling suddenly

landing in someone else's story."

"What are you doing here?" snapped Elinor. But the sight of Dustfinger had actually filled her

with relief.

"Leave him alone, Elinor," said Mo, moving her aside and going over to Dustfinger. "How are

your hands?" he asked.

Dustfinger shrugged. "They put cold water on them in the kitchen, but the skin's still almost as

red as the flames that licked at it."

"Ask him what he wants!" hissed Elinor. "And if he's just come to tell us he can't do anything

about the mess we're in, then you might as well wring his lying neck!"

"By way of answer, Dustfinger tossed her a bunch of keys. Do you think I'm here?" he grumbled

back, switching off the light. "Stealing the car keys from Basta wasn't easy, and a word of thanks

might not be out of place, but we can think about that later. We don't want to hang around any

longer —-let's get out of here." Cautiously, he opened the door and listened. "There's a sentry

posted up in the church tower," he whispered, "but the guards are keeping watch on the hills,

not the village. The dogs are in their kennels, and even if we do have to deal with them, luckily

they like me better than Basta."

"Why should we suddenly trust him?" whispered Elinor to Mo. "Suppose there's some other

devilry behind this?"

"I want you to take me with you. That's my only motive!" snapped Dustfinger. "There's nothing

here for me anymore. Capricorn's let me down. He's sent the only scrap of hope I still had up in

smoke! He thinks he can do what he likes with me. Dustfinger's only a dog you can kick without

fearing he may bite back, but he's wrong there. He burned the book, so I'm taking away the

reader I brought him. And as for you," he said, jabbing his burnt finger into Elinor's chest, "you

can come because you have a car. No one gets out of this village on foot, not even Capricorn's

men, not with the snakes that infest these hills. But I can't drive, and so . . ."

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"I knew it!" Elinor almost forgot to keep her voice down. "He just wants to save his own skin.

That's why he's helping us! He doesn't have a guilty conscience, oh no. Why should he?"

"I don't care why he's helping us, Elinor," Mo interrupted her impatiently. "We have to get away

from here, that's what matters. But we're going to take someone else with us, too."