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pointed little teeth. There was the Cheshire Cat she had always been so afraid of, and here came

the Wild Things that Mo liked so much he had hung a picture of them in his workshop. How huge

their teeth were! Dustfinger would be crunched between those fangs like a cracker. But just as

one of them was stretching out his claws, the one with eyes as big as saucers, a new figure came

out of the gray void, hissing like a flame, ashen-gray and faceless, seized the Wild Thing, and tore

it into scraps of paper.

"Meggie!"

The monsters vanished, and the sun was shining on Meggie's face. Fenoglio was standing beside

her bed. "You were dreaming."

Meggie sat up. The old man's face looked as if he hadn't closed his eyes all night and he had

several new wrinkles. "Where's my father, Fenoglio?" she asked. "Oh, why doesn't he come?"

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Chapter 41 – Farid

Ali Baba ... was surprised to see a well-lighted and spacious chamber ... filled with all sorts

of provisions, rich bales of silks, embroideries, and valuable tissues, piled upon one

another, gold and silver ingots in great heaps, and money in bags. The sight of all these

riches made him suppose that this cave must have been occupied for ages by robbers,

who had succeeded one another.

– "The Story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves", from TheArabian Nights' Entertainments,

translated by Edward William Lane

Farid stared at the dark until his eyes hurt, but Dustfinger did not return. Sometimes Farid

thought he saw his scarred face among the low-growing branches. Sometimes he thought he

heard his almost silent footsteps on the dead leaves, but he was always wrong. Farid was used to

listening to the sounds of the night. He had spent endless hours doing so back in his other life,

when the world around him was not green but brown and yellow. His eyes had often let him

down, but he had always been able to rely on his ears.

All the same, Farid listened in vain that night, the longest night of his life. Dustfinger didn't come

back. When day began to dawn above the hills Farid went to the two captives, gave them water,

a little of the dry bread they still had left, and a few olives.

"Come on, Farid, untie us!" said Silvertongue as Farid put the bread in his mouth. "Dustfinger

should have been back by now, you know he should have."

Farid said nothing. He loved to hear Silvertongue's voice. It had lured him out of his old,

wretched life, but it seemed that Dustfinger didn't like it anymore, he didn't know why — and

Dustfinger had told him to keep watch on the prisoners. He had said nothing about untying

them.

"Look, you're a clever lad," said the woman, "so use your head for a moment, will you? Are you

going to sit here until Capricorn's men come and find us? What a sight we'll be: a boy watching

two captives who can't lift a finger to help him. They'll fall over laughing."

What was she called again? Eli-nor. Farid had difficulty remembering the name. It was awkward

as a pebble on his tongue, and sounded like the name of an enchantress from a far distant land.

He thought her unnatural; she looked at him as a man might look, without timidity or fear, and

her voice could be very loud and as angry as a lion's roar.

"We have to get down to the village, Farid!" said Silver-tongue. "We must find out what's

happened to Dustfinger — and where my daughter is."

Yes, the girl — the girl with the clear, bright eyes, little pieces of sky fallen to the earth and

caught in her dark lashes. Farid poked the ground with a stick. An ant was carrying a bread

crumb bigger than itself past his toes.

"Perhaps he doesn't understand what we're saying," said Elinor.

Farid raised his head and cast her a glance of annoyance. "Yes, I do. I understand everything."

And so he had, from the first moment, as if he had never heard any other language. He

remembered the red church. Dustfinger had explained that it was a church, although Farid had

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never seen such a building before. He also remembered the man with the knife. There had been

a great many such men in his old life. They loved their knives and did terrible things with them.

"You'll run off if I untie you." Farid looked uncertainly at Silvertongue.

"No, I won't. Do you think I'd leave my daughter down there with Basta and Capricorn?"

Basta and Capricorn. Yes, those had been the names. The knife man and the man with the eyes as

colorless as water. A robber, a murderer . . . Farid knew all about him. Dustfinger had told him a

great deal as they sat together by the fire in the evening. They had exchanged sad stories,

although both of them longed for one with a happy ending.

Now this story was growing darker with each day that passed, too.

"It'll be better if I go alone." Farid dug the stick so hard into the ground that it broke in his

fingers. "I'm used to slinking into strange villages, strange palaces, and houses — it was my job

in the old days. If you know what I mean."

Silvertongue nodded.

"They always sent me," Farid went on. "Who'd be afraid of a thin young boy? I could sniff around

everywhere without arousing suspicion. When did the guards change? Which was the best way

of escape? Where did the richest man in the village live? If all went well they gave me enough to

eat. If it didn't they beat me like a dog."

"They?" asked Elinor.

"The thieves," replied Farid.

The two adults fell silent. And Dustfinger still wasn't back. Farid looked toward the village and

saw the first rays of the sun rising above its rooftops.

"Very well. You may be right," said Silvertongue. "You go down alone and find out what we need

to know, but first untie us. If you don't we won't be able to help you if they do catch you. And I

don't fancy sitting here tied up like this when the first snake wriggles past."

The woman looked as frightened as if she already heard it rustling through the dead leaves. But

Farid looked thoughtfully at Silvertongue's face, trying to decide whether his eyes could trust

him as his ears already did. Finally, he stood up without a word, took the knife Dustfinger had

given him from his belt, and cut them both free.

"My God, I'm never letting anyone tie me up like that again!" said Elinor, rubbing her arms and

legs. "I feel as numb as a rag doll. How are you, Mortimer? Can you still feel your feet?"

Farid looked at her curiously. "You don't look like his wife. Are you his mother?" he asked,

nodding in Silvertongue's direction.

Elinor's face came out in more red blotches than a toadstool. "Good Lord above, no! What makes

you think that? Do I really look so old?" Glancing down at herself, she sighed.

"Yes, I probably do. All the same, I'm not his mother. I'm not Meggie's mother either, in case

that's your next question. My children were all made of paper and printer's ink, and that man,"

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she said, pointing to the rooftops of Capricorn's village shining through the trees, "that man

down there destroyed a great many of them. Believe me, he'll regret it."

Farid looked at her doubtfully. He couldn't imagine Capricorn being afraid of a woman, certainly

not one who got out of breath when she climbed a hill and was scared of snakes. No, if the man

with the pale eyes feared anything it would be what most people feared — death. And Elinor

didn't look as if she knew much about killing. Nor did Silvertongue.

"The girl . . ." Farid hesitated before asking, "Where is her mother?"

Silvertongue went over to the cold fireplace and took a piece of the bread lying among the soot-

blackened stones. "She went away long ago," he said. "Meggie was just three. What about your

own mother?"

Farid shrugged his shoulders and looked up at the sky. It was as blue as if the night had never

been. "I'd better go now," he said, putting his knife away and picking up Dustfinger's backpack.

Gwin was sleeping close to it, curled up between the roots of a tree. Farid picked him up and put

him in the pack. The marten sleepily protested, but Farid tickled his head and strapped up the

pack.

"Why are you taking that marten?" asked Elinor in surprise. "The smell of him could give you

away."

"He may be useful," replied Farid, pushing the tip of Gwin's bushy tail into the backpack, too.

"He's clever. Cleverer than a dog or a camel, anyway. He understands what you say to him, and

maybe he'll find Dustfinger."

"Farid." Silvertongue was searching his pockets and took out a piece of paper. "I don't know if

you'll be able to find out where they're keeping Meggie prisoner," he said, hastily scribbling

something with the stump of a pencil, "but if possible can you try to see that she gets this note?"

Farid took the piece of paper and looked at it. "What does it say?" he asked.

Elinor took the note from his hand. "Heavens above, Mortimer, what's this?" she asked.

Silvertongue smiled. "Meggie and I have often sent secret messages in this writing — she's much

better at it than I am. Don't you recognize it? It comes from a book. We're not far away, it says.

Don't worry. We'll soon get you out. Mo, Elinor, and Farid. Meggie will be able to read the

message, but no one else will."

"Aha!" murmured Elinor, giving Farid the note back. "Yes, if it falls into the wrong hands it's

better that way. After all, perhaps some of those fire-raisers can read."

Farid folded the note until it was about the size of a coin, then put it in his pants pocket. "I'll be

back when the sun is above those hills at the latest," he said. "Or if I'm not—"

"If you're not, I'll come and look for you," Silvertongue ended the sentence.

"And so will I, of course," added Elinor, looking fierce.

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Farid did not think that was a good idea, but he didn't say so. He left, going the same way that

Dustfinger had gone the night before, disappearing as if the ghosts who lurked in the darkness

had eaten him alive.

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Chapter 42 – A Furry Face on the Windowsill

"It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards."

– Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Flatnose brought Meggie and Fenoglio their breakfast, and this morning it was more than bread

and a few olives. He put a basket of fruit on the table for them, and a plate of small, sweet cakes.

But Meggie didn't at all like the smile he served up at the same time.

"All for you, princess!" he grunted, pinching her cheek with his clumsy fingers. "To strengthen

your little voice. There's been a lot of excitement since Basta told us about the execution. Well,

like I always said, there has to be more to life than hanging up a few dead roosters and shooting

cats."

Meggie exchanged a glance with Fenoglio. The old man was staring at Flatnose with an

expression of disgust that suggested he couldn't believe such a creature had slipped from his

pen.

"Yes, to be sure, it's been a terribly long time since we had a nice execution!" continued Flatnose,

on his way back to the door. "It'd attract too much attention, they always said. And when

someone really had to disappear — well, the word was to go carefully! Make it look like an

accident. Is that any fun? You bet it isn't. Not like it used to be, a good execution with eating and

drinking and dancing and music, that's the way to do it in style! And so we will this time —just

like we did back in the good old days!"

Fenoglio took a sip of the black coffee that Flatnose had brought him and choked.

"Don't you fancy that kind of thing, grandpa?" Flatnose looked at him sneeringly. "Take my word

for it, Capricorn's executions are something to remember!"

"Who do you think you're telling?" muttered Fenoglio unhappily.

At that moment someone knocked on the door. Flatnose had left it ajar, and Darius the reader

put his head around it.

"Sorry!" he breathed, looking at Flatnose as anxiously as a bird obliged to get close to a hungry

cat. "I — er — I'm to get the girl to read something aloud. Capricorn's orders."

"Really? Well, let's just hope she reads something useful out of a book this time. Basta showed

me the fairy. She doesn't even sprinkle any fairy dust, however hard you shake her." Flatnose

looked at Meggie with a mixture of dislike and respect. Perhaps he thought she was some kind of

a witch. "Knock when you want to come out again," he grunted, pushing past Darius.

Darius nodded and stood there for a moment before sitting down at the table with Meggie and

Fenoglio, looking embarrassed. He stared greedily at the fruit until Fenoglio pushed the basket

over to him. Tentatively, he took an apricot and put it into his mouth as if he thought he would