第 48 页

never in his lif taste anything so delicious again.

e

"Good heavens, it's only an apricot!" laughed Fenoglio. "Not exactly a rare fruit in these

latitudes."

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Darius spat the apricot stone out into his hand, still looking awkward. "Whenever they shut me

up in this room," he said timidly, "they gave me nothing but dry bread. And they took my books

away, too, but I managed to hide some of them, and when the hunger got too bad I looked at the

pictures in them. The best was a picture of apricots. I sometimes sat for hours staring at the

painted fruit with my mouth watering. Ever since then I just can't control myself when I see

apricots."

Meggie took another apricot from the basket and put it into his hand. "Did they often shut you

up?" she asked.

The thin little man shrugged. "Yes, whenever I didn't read something out of a book properly," he

replied evasively. "Well, that meant all the time, really. Then they finally gave up because they

realized that my reading didn't exactly improve when they frightened me. On the contrary. Take

Flatnose, for instance." He lowered his voice, casting a nervous glance at the door. "I read

Flatnose out while Basta was standing beside me with his knife. Well ..." He raised his narrow

shoulders regretfully.

Meggie looked at him sympathetically. Then she asked hesitantly, "Did you ever read any

women out of that story?"

Fenoglio looked at her uneasily.

"Certainly," Darius replied. "I read Mortola out of the book! She says I made her older and as

rickety as a chair cobbled together badly, but I really don't think I got too much wrong with her.

Luckily Capricorn agreed."

"Any younger women?" Meggie was looking at neither Darius nor Fenoglio.

"Oh yes," Darius sighed. "On the same day as I read Mortola out. I remember it very well.

Capricorn was living up in the north then, at a lonely, half-ruined farm in the mountains, and

there weren't many local girls around. I myself was living not far away, in my sister's house. I

worked as a teacher, but in my free time I read aloud now and then in libraries and schools, or

for children's parties, and sometimes on warm summer evenings I even read in a square or cafe.

I loved reading aloud."

His gaze wandered to the window, as if he could catch a glimpse there of those long-forgotten,

happier days. "I think Basta noticed me when I was reading aloud at a party in the village — a

passage from Dr. Dolittle — and all of a sudden there was a bird flying around. I really didn't

know I had the gift — perhaps it was something to do with Basta being there. Anyway, when I

went home Basta caught me as if I were a stray dog and took me to Capricorn. First he made me

read gold out of books, like your father did," he said, smiling sadly at Meggie, "but then I had to

read Mortola out for him, and after that he told me to read his maidservants out, too. It was

terrible." Darius pushed his glasses up on his nose with trembling fingers. "I was so scared. How

can you read aloud well when you're terrified? He made me try three times. Oh, I felt so sorry for

them—I don't want to talk about it!" He buried his face in his hands, which were as bony as an

old man's. Meggie thought she heard him sob, and for a moment she hesitated to ask her next

question, but then she did.

"The maid they call Resa," she said, her heart beating in her mouth. "Was she one of them?"

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Darius took his hands away from his face. "Yes, she carne out quite by chance," he said huskily.

"Capricorn had really wanted another of them, but suddenly there was Resa, and at first I

thought I'd got it right for once. She looked so beautiful, almost improbably beautiful with her

golden hair and her sad eyes. But then we realized she couldn't speak. Well, that didn't bother

Capricorn; in fact I think he liked it." He searched his pants pocket and brought out a crumpled

handkerchief. "I really could read better once," he said, sniffing. "But this constant fear . . . May

I?" With a sad smile he took another apricot and bit into it. Then he wiped the juice from his

mouth with his sleeve, cleared his throat, and gazed straight at Meggie. His eyes looked curiously

large behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

"At the — er — festivities that Capricorn's planning," he said, lowering his gaze and running his

finger awkwardly along the edge of the table, "the idea, as you probably know, is for you to read

from Inkheart. The book's being kept in a secret place until that time comes. Only Capricorn

knows where it is. So you won't see it before the — er — occasion. Which means that we're to

use another book for the latest test Capricorn wants of your talents. Luckily, there are a few

other books in this village, not many, but anyway, I've been told to choose something suitable."

He raised his head again and gave a small, slight smile. "Fortunately, I didn't have to look for

gold and such treasures this time. All Capricorn wants is proof of your skill, and so," he said,

pushing a small book over the table, "so I chose this one."

Meggie bent over the cover. "Collected Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen," she read aloud.

She looked at Darius. "They're beautiful stories."

"Yes," he breathed. "Sad, but very, very beautiful." Reaching over the table, he opened the book

for Meggie at a place that he had marked with a couple of long blades of grass slipped between

the yellowed pages. "First I thought of my favorite story, the one about the nightingale. Maybe

you know it?"

Meggie nodded.

"But the fairy you read out of the book yesterday isn't happy in the jug where Basta has put her,"

Darius went on, "so I thought it might be better if you tried the tin soldier."

The tin soldier. Meggie did not reply at once. The brave tin soldier in his little paper boat — she

imagined him suddenly appearing beside the fruit basket. "No!" she said. "No. I've told Capricorn

already, I won't read anything out of a book for him, not even as a test. Tell him I can't do it

anymore. Just tell him I tried and nothing came out of the story!"

Darius gave her a sympathetic look. "Oh, I would," he said quietly. "Really I would. But it's the

Magpie — " he said, quickly putting his hand to his mouth as if he had said too much. "Sorry, I

mean the housekeeper, of course, Signora Mortola — it's her you have to read aloud to. I've only

chosen the story."

The Magpie. An image of her flashed into Meggie's mind, watching her with her birdlike eyes.

Suppose I bite my tongue? she thought. Very hard. She had done that a few times by mistake,

and once her tongue had swelled up so much she had to talk to Mo in sign language for two days.

She looked at Fenoglio for help.

"Do it!" he said, to her surprise. "Read aloud to the old woman, but make it a condition that you

can keep the tin soldier. Tell her anything you like — say you want to play with him because

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you're bored to death — and then ask for something else: some sheets of paper and a pencil. Say

you want to draw pictures, understand? If she agrees we'll take it from there."

Meggie didn't understand a word of this, but before she could ask Fenoglio what he was

planning the door opened, and there was the Magpie herself.

Darius leaped to his feet so quickly at the sight of her that he pushed Meggie's plate off the table.

"Oh, I'm sorry, so sorry!" he stammered, picking up the broken pieces in his bony fingers. He cut

his thumb so deeply on the last piece that blood dripped to the wooden floorboards.

"Get up, you fool!" snapped Mortola. "Have you shown her what she's to read from?"

Darius nodded and looked unhappily at his bleeding thumb.

"Then get out. You can help the women in the kitchen. There are chickens to be plucked."

Darius made a face, looking disgusted, but he bowed and disappeared into the corridor, but not

without casting Meggie a last sympathetic glance.

"OK!" said the Magpie, waving to her impatiently. "Start reading — and put your mind to it."

Meggie read the tin soldier out of the story. It was as if he simply fell from the ceiling. "He

dropped down three stories to the street and his bayonet stuck in the earth between two

cobblestones." The Magpie reached for him before Meggie could and stared at him as if he were

just a painted toy, while he looked back at her with horror in his eyes. Then she put him in the

pocket of her coarse-knit woolen jacket.

"Please can I have him?" stammered Meggie, just as the Magpie reached the doorway. Fenoglio

placed himself behind her as if to cover her back, but the Magpie just looked at Meggie with her

sharp-nosed gaze. "I — I mean, there's nothing you'd want to do with him," Meggie went on

uncertainly, "and I'm so bored. Please."

The Magpie looked at her, unmoved. "You can have him back when Capricorn has seen him," she

said, and then she was gone.

"The paper!" cried Fenoglio. "You forgot to ask for paper and pencil!"

"I'm sorry," murmured Meggie. She hadn't forgotten, it was just that she didn't dare ask the

Magpie for anything else.

"Ah, well, I'll just have to get it by other means," said Fenoglio. "The only question is, how?"

Meggie went over to the window, rested her forehead on the pane, and looked down at the

garden, where a couple of Capricorn's maids were busy tying up tomato plants. What would Mo

say, she wondered, if he knew I can do it, too? "Who did you read out, Meggie? Poor Tinker Bell

and the Steadfast Tin Soldier?" . . . "Yes," murmured Meggie, tracing an invisible M on the pane

with her finger. Poor fairy, poor tin soldier, poor Dustfinger and — she thought again of the

woman with the dark blond hair. "Resa," she whispered. Teresa. Teresa was her mother's name.

She was about to turn away from the window when out of the corner of her eye she saw

something appearing above the sill outside — a small furry face. Meggie retreated in alarm. Do

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rats climb walls? Yes, but that wasn't a rat—the animal's muzzle wasn't pointed enough. She

quickly ran back to the windowpane.

The marten was sitting on the narrow sill, looking in at her with sleepy eyes.

"Basta!" muttered Fenoglio behind her. "Yes, Basta will get me the paper. That's a good idea."

Meggie opened the window very slowly, so that Gwin wouldn't take fright and perhaps fall off

the sill. Even a marten would break all his bones if he fell into the paved yard from this height.

She put out her hand, still very slowly. Her fingers trembled as she stroked Gwin's back. Then

she grabbed him before his little teeth could snap at her and quickly lifted him into the room.

She looked anxiously down, but none of the maids had noticed anything. They were all bending

over the vegetable patch, their clothes drenched with perspiration from the heat of the sun

burning down on their backs.

There was a note under Gwin's collar. It was dirty and had been folded very small and tied in

place with a piece of tape.

"Why are you opening the window? The air outside is even hotter than in here. We —" Fenoglio

broke off and stared in amazement at the animal in Meggie's arms. She quickly put a warning

finger to her lips. Then, holding the struggling Gwin tight, she removed the note from under his

collar. The marten chattered crossly and snapped at her finger again. He didn't like being held

too long and would even bite Dustfinger if he tried it.

"What have you got there — a rat?" Fenoglio came closer. Meggie let go of the marten, and Gwin

immediately leaped back to the windowsill.

"A marten!" cried the astonished Fenoglio. "Where did that come from?" Meggie looked

anxiously at the door, but obviously the guard outside had heard nothing. Fenoglio pressed his

hand to his mouth and looked again at Gwin in such amazement that Meggie almost laughed.

"He's got horns!" he whispered.

"Of course! That's the way you wrote him!" she whispered back.

Gwin was still sitting on the windowsill, blinking uncomfortably at the sun. He didn't like bright

light and preferred to sleep through the day. So how had he got here?

Meggie put her head out of the window, but there were still only the maids down in the yard.

Hastily, she moved back into the room and unfolded the note.

"A message?" Fenoglio leaned over her shoulder. "Is it from your father?"

Meggie nodded. She had recognized the writing at once, although it wasn't as steady as usual.

Her heart began dancing inside her. She traced the letters with her eyes as longingly as if they

were a path with Mo waiting for her at the end of it.

"What on earth does it say? I can't make out a word of it!" whispered Fenoglio.

Meggie smiled. "It's elvish writing!" she whispered. "Mo and I have been using it as our secret