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clearly that she might almost have reached out to touch it.

"You'll soon see your father again!" whispered Fenoglio. "And then you can tell him that you

found your mother along the way and rescued her from Capricorn. That's quite something, don't

you think?"

Meggie just nodded.

The dress felt scratchy on her throat and arms. It was more like a dress for a grown-up than a

child, and it was somewhat too big for Meggie. When she took a few steps in it she trod on the

hem. The sleeves fitted tightly, but she had no difficulty in pushing the sheet of paper up inside

one of them; it was as thin as a dragonfly's leg. She practiced a couple of times — pushing it in,

pulling it out. Finally, she left it up her sleeve. It crackled slightly when she moved her hands or

raised that arm.

The moon hung pale in the sky above the church tower, and the night wore a veil of moonlight

when the Magpie came back to fetch Meggie.

"You haven't combed your hair!" she said crossly. This time she had another maid with her, a

stocky woman with a red face and red hands who was obviously not afraid of Meggie's powers

of witchcraft. She pulled the comb so brutally through Meggie's hair that she almost cried out.

"Shoes!" said the Magpie, seeing Meggie's bare toes peep out from under the hem of the dress.

"Didn't anyone think of shoes?"

"She could put those on." The maid pointed to Meggie's worn-out sneakers. "The dress is long

enough, no one will see them. Anyway, don't witches always go barefoot?"

The Magpie gave her such a look that her voice died on her lips.

"Exactly!" cried Fenoglio, who had been watching the two women get Meggie ready with an

ironic expression on his face. "That's what they do, they always go barefoot. Do I have to change

for this festive occasion, too? What does one wear to attend an execution? I imagine I will be

sitting beside Capricorn?"

The Magpie stuck out her chin. It was a small, soft chin and looked as if it came from another,

gentler face.

"You can stay as you are," she said, putting a comb with pearls in Meggie's hair. "Prisoners don't

have to change." The mockery dripped from her voice like poison.

"What do you mean, prisoners?" Fenoglio pushed his chair back.

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"I mean prisoners, what else?" The Magpie stepped back and looked critically at Meggie. "That

will have to do," she said. "It's odd, but with her hair back she reminds me of someone." Meggie

quickly lowered her head, and before the Magpie could give this observation more thought

Fenoglio diverted her attention.

"But I am no ordinary prisoner, madam, let's get that quite clear!" he roared. "Without me none

of this would exist at all, your own less-than-delightful self included."

The Magpie cast him a final contemptuous glance and took hold of Meggie's arm, luckily not the

one with Fenoglio's precious words inside its sleeve. "The guard will come for you when it's

time," she said to Fenoglio, leading Meggie to the door.

"Remember what your father told you!" called Fenoglio when Meggie was out in the hallway.

"Words don't come to life until you can taste them on your tongue."

The Magpie nudged Meggie in the back. "Get moving!" she said and closed the door behind them.

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Chapter 54 – Fire

"And then —I have it!" said Bagheera, leaping up. "Go thou down quickly to the men's

huts in the valley, and take some of the Red Flower which they grow there, so that when

the time comes thou mayest have even a stronger friend than I or Baloo or those of the

Pack that love thee. Get the Red Flower."

By Red Flower Bagheera meant fire, only no creature in the jungle will call fire by its

proper name. Every beast lives in deadly fear of it.

– Rudyard Kipling, The Jungle Book

They set out when dusk fell over the hills, leaving Gwin at their camp. After what had happened

on their last nighttime visit to Capricorn's village, even Farid could see it was better that way.

Silvertongue made him go first. He knew nothing of the boy's fear of ghosts and other nocturnal

terrors. Farid had hidden it from him more successfully than he had from Dustfinger.

Silvertongue did not mock his fear of the dark either, as Dustfinger had, and curiously enough

that made the fear less, shrinking it as only daylight usually did. But now Farid was going to use

something else that Dustfinger thought him too foolhardy to handle.

Fire. They had decided to start a fire next to Capricorn's house, so that it would not spread to the

hills so fast but would threaten the only thing Capricorn cared about: his treasure chambers.

This time, the village was not quiet and empty as it had been on the previous nights, but was

buzzing like a wasp's nest. Four armed guards were patrolling the parking lot, and cars were

parked all around the wire-netting fence that surrounded the former football field. Their

headlights bathed the area in glaring light as if a bright cloth had been spread out in the dark.

"So that's where the show's going to take place," whispered Silvertongue as they approached the

houses. "Poor Meggie."

A kind of rostrum had been set up in the middle of this arena with a cage opposite it, perhaps for

the monster that Silvertongue's daughter was to read out of the book, perhaps for the prisoners.

On the left-hand side of the field, facing away from the wire fence and the village, stood long

wooden benches. A few of the Black Jackets were already sitting on them, like ravens that had

found a bright, warm place to spend the night.

They had thought of stealing into the village from the parking lot. With so many strangers

around, perhaps no one would notice them. But then they decided on a longer, darker route.

Farid went ahead again, using every tree as cover, always keeping uphill from the houses until

they were above the uninhabited part of the village that looked as if a giant had trodden on it.

Even there, more guards than usual were patrolling. They had to keep retreating into the

shadows of a gateway, ducking down behind a wall, or climbing through a window and waiting

with bated breath for the guard to pass by. Luckily, there were many dark corners in Capricorn's

village, and the guards strolled through the alleys with an air of boredom, as men do when they

are sure there is no threat of danger.

Farid had Dustfinger's backpack with him, containing all they would need to kindle a quick, hot

fire. Silvertongue carried the wood they had collected in case the flames did not find enough to

feed on among the stones. And there were Capricorn's stocks of gasoline, too. Farid still had the

smell of it in his nostrils from the night when they had shut him up in the sheds. The tanks were

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seldom guarded, but they might not need them. It was a windless night; the flames would burn

quietly and steadily. Farid remembered Dustfinger's warning: "Never light a fire when it's

windy. The wind will catch hold of it and it will forget you, it will fan the flames until they leap

up and bite you and lick the skin from your bones." But the wind was sleeping tonight, and the

still air filled the alleyways like warm water in a bucket.

They had hoped to find the square outside Capricorn's house empty, but as they were about to

enter it from one of the alleys, they saw a half-dozen men were standing outside the church.

"Why are they still here?" whispered Farid as Silvertongue drew him into the shadow of a

doorway. "The festivities are about to begin."

Two maids came out of Capricorn's house, each with a pile of plates. They were taking them to

the church. Obviously the successful execution was to be celebrated there later. When the maids

passed the guards the men whistled at them. One of the women almost dropped the crockery

when one of them tried to lift her skirt with the barrel of his gun. It was the man who had

recognized Silvertongue when they slipped into the village the night before. Farid touched his

forehead, which was still bloodstained, and cursed him with the worst curses he knew. Why did

he have to be the one there? But even if they got past him unrecognized, how were they going to

start a fire while the others were still standing around?

"Take it easy!" Silvertongue whispered to him. "They'll soon go away. The first thing we have to

do is make sure Meggie really has left the house."

Farid nodded, looking at the big house. There were still lights on in two of the windows, but that

didn't necessarily mean anything. "I'll sneak down to the football field and see if she's there," he

whispered to Silvertongue. Perhaps they had already gotten Dustfinger from the church,

perhaps he was in the cage they had set up, and he could whisper to him that they had brought

his best friend, fire, to save him.

Night shadows filled many of the nooks and crannies among the houses, despite the brightness

of the streetlights. Farid was about to set off, using their shelter, when the door of Capricorn's

house opened. The old woman with a face like a vulture came out. She was dragging

Silvertongue's daughter along behind her. Farid hardly recognized Meggie in the long white

dress she wore. After them, gun in hand, came the man who had shot at him and Silvertongue.

He looked around, took a bunch of keys from his pocket, locked the door, and beckoned to one of

the men standing outside the church. He was obviously telling him to guard the house. So, only

one man would stay on guard when the others went off to see the show.

Farid felt Silvertongue tensing every muscle — as if he wanted to run to his daughter, who

looked almost as pale as her dress. The boy clutched his arm in a warning gesture, but

Silvertongue seemed to have forgotten him. He had eyes only for the girl. One reckless step and

he would be out of the shelter of the shadows.

"Don't!" Farid pulled him back in alarm — as best he could, for he scarcely came up to

Silvertongue's shoulder. Luckily, Capricorn's men were watching the old woman as she crossed

the square, walking so fast the girl stumbled over the hem of her dress a couple of times.

"She looks so pale!" whispered Silvertongue. "Heavens, do you see how frightened she is?

Perhaps she'll look this way, perhaps we can give her a signal —"

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"No!" Farid was still hanging on to him with both hands. "We must start the fire. That's the only

way we can help her. Please, Silvertongue — they'll see you!"

"Don't keep calling me Silvertongue. It gets on my nerves."

The old woman disappeared among the houses with Meggie. Flatnose was following them,

lumbering like a bear in a black suit, and at last, the other men left, too. They went down the

street, laughing, looking forward to what the night promised them: death spiced with fear and

the appearance of a new terror in this accursed village.

Only the guard outside Capricorn's house was left. He watched the others go, his face gloomy as

he kicked an empty cigarette packet and struck the wall with his fist. He was the only one who

was going to miss the fun. Even the guard at the top of the church tower could at least watch the

show from a distance.

They had expected a guard to be posted outside the house. Farid had explained the best way to

get rid of him, and Silvertongue had nodded and agreed to the plan. When the footsteps of

Capricorn's men had died away and they could hear nothing but the noise from the direction of

the parking lot, they moved out of the shadows, acting as if they had only just emerged from the

alley, and openly approached the guard side by side. He looked at them suspiciously, pushed

himself away from the wall against which he had been leaning, and took the gun from his

shoulder. Alarmed, Farid involuntarily put his hand to his forehead, but at least the guard was

not one of the men who might have recognized them, not the man with the limp, or Basta, or any

of Capricorn's other personal henchmen.

"Hey, lend us a hand!" called Silvertongue, ignoring the gun. "Those fools forgot Capricorn's

armchair. We've been sent to get it."

The guard was holding his gun in front of his chest. "Oh, for heaven's sake! That thing's so heavy

it'd break your back. Where are you from?" He scrutinized Silvertongue's face, as if trying to

remember whether he had seen it before. He took no notice of Farid at all. "You from the north,

then? I heard you have a lot of fun up there."

"That's right." Silvertongue went so close to the guard that the man took a step back. "Come on,

you know Capricorn doesn't like to be kept waiting."

The guard nodded sullenly. "Yes, yes, all right," he muttered, looking over to the church. "There's

no point standing guard here anyway. What do they think will happen? Do they expect the fire-

eater to come and steal the gold? That fellow was always lily-livered, he'll be well away by now,

he —" But suddenly, while the guard was still looking at the church, Silvertongue seized the gun

and hit him on the head with the butt. Then he dragged him around behind Capricorn's house