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and I didn't write it to be misused for the purposes of violence and murder!"

Cockerell tried to put his hand over Fenoglio's mouth, but Fenoglio bit his fingers and

sidestepped him with more agility than Meggie would ever have expected of the old man.

"I invented you!" he bellowed as Cockerell chased him around Capricorn's chair. "And I'm sorry I

did, you stinking devil of a villain." Then he ran off. Cockerell didn't catch up with Fenoglio until

he reached the cage containing the prisoners, and in revenge for the mockery and laughter

coming from the benches he twisted the old man's arm behind his back so viciously that

Fenoglio let out a cry of pain. Yet, when Cockerell dragged him back to Capricorn's side, Fenoglio

was looking pleased, because he knew he had given Meggie plenty of time. They had rehearsed it

often enough. Her fingers had been shaking as she took the sheet of paper out of her sleeve, but

no one noticed anything when she slipped it into the pages of the book. Not even the Magpie.

"How the old man boasts!" cried Capricorn. "Do I look as if an old fellow like that invented me?"

There was more laughter. The smoke above the rooftops seemed to have been forgotten.

Cockerell put his hand over Fenoglio's mouth.

"Once again, and I hope this will be the last time," said Capricorn to Meggie, "start reading! The

prisoners have waited long enough for their executioner."

Silence fell again, and once more it smelled of fear.

Meggie bent over the book on her lap. The letters seemed to dance on the pages.

Come out, thought Meggie, come out and save us! Save us all: Elinor and my mother, Mo and

Farid. Save Dustfinger if he's still alive, and save Basta, too, for all I care.

Her tongue felt like a little animal that had found refuge in her mouth and was now butting its

head against her teeth.

"Capricorn had many men," she began. "And every one of them was feared in the surrounding

towns and villages. They stank of cold smoke, they stank of sulfur and everything that reminds you

of fire. Whenever one of them passed by people closed their doors and hid under the stairs with

their children. They called them Firefingers and Bloodhounds—Capricorn's men had many names.

They were feared by day, and by night they made their way into dreams and poisoned them. But

there was one who was feared even more than Capricorn's villains." Meggie felt as if her voice was

growing stronger with every word she read. It seemed to grow until it filled the arena. "Folk

called him the Shadow."

Two more lines at the bottom of the page, then turn it over. Fenoglio's words were waiting.

"Look at this, Meggie!" he had whispered when he showed her the sheet of paper. "What an

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artist I am, eh? Is there anything in the world better than words on the page? Magic signs, the

voices of the dead, building blocks to make wonderful worlds better than this one, comforters,

companions in loneliness. Keepers of secrets, speakers of the truth ... all those glorious words."

Taste every word, Meggie, whispered Mo's voice inside her, savor it on your tongue. Do you taste

the colors? Do you taste the wind and the night? The fear and the joy? And the love. Taste them,

Meggie, and everything will come to life. "Folk called him Capricorn's Shadow." How the sh hissed

as it passed her lips, how darkly the sound of the o formed in her mouth.

"He came only when Capricorn called him," she read. "Sometimes he was red as fire, sometimes

gray as the ash to which fire turns all that it devours. He darted out of the earth as fast as flames

lick their way up wood. His fingers and even his breath brought death. He rose before his master's

feet, soundless, faceless, scenting his way like a hound on the trail and waiting for his master to

point to the victim. It was said that Capricorn had commanded one of the trolls who understand

the whole art of fire and smoke to create the Shadow from the ashes of his victims. No one was sure,

for it was also said th at Capricorn had ordered those who called the Shadow to life to be killed. All

that everyone knew was that he was immortal, invulnerable, and pitiless, like his master."

Meggie's voice died away as if the wind had blown it from her lips. Something was rising from

the gravel that covered the football field. It grew taller, it stretched its ashen limbs. The night air

suddenly stank of sulfur. That stench burned Meggie's eyes so that the letters blurred, but she

must go on reading while the eerie creature grew taller and taller. "Yet one night, a mild and

starlit night, the Shadow heard not Capricorn's voice when it was called forth, but the voice of a

girl, and when she called his name he remembered; he remembered all those from whose ashes he

was made, all the pain and all the grief—"

The Magpie reached over Meggie's shoulder. "What's this? What are you reading?" But Meggie

jumped up and backed away before the old woman could snatch the sheet of paper from her. "He

remembered," she read on in a loud, clear voice, "and he was determined to be avenged —

avenged upon those who were the cause of all this misfortune, whose cruelty poisoned the whole

world."

"Make her stop!"

Was that Capricorn's voice? Meggie almost fell off the rostrum as she tried to keep away from

the Magpie. Darius stood there, staring at her in astonishment, the casket in his hands. Then

suddenly but deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world, he put down the casket and

wrapped his thin arms firmly around the Magpie from behind. Nor did he let go, no matter how

hard she struggled and cursed. And Meggie read on as the Shadow stood, watching her. The

figure had no face, that was true, but it had eyes, terrible eyes, red as the embers of a hidden fire.

"Get the book away from her!" shouted Capricorn. He was standing in front of his chair, bent

double as if he feared his legs would refuse to obey him if he took so much as a step toward the

Shadow. "Get it away from her!"

But none of his remaining men moved, none of the boys and none of the women came to his aid.

They had eyes for nothing but the Shadow as he stood there listening to Meggie's voice, as if she

were telling him a long-for gotten tale.

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"Indeed, he wanted revenge," Meggie read on. If only her voice weren't shaking so much, but it

wasn't easy to kill, even if someone else was going to do it for her. "So the Shadow went to his

master and reached out to him with ashen hands. ..."

How soundlessly it moved, that terrible, gigantic figure!

Meggie stared at Fenoglio's next sentence. And Capricorn fell down on his face, and his black heart

stopped beating — She couldn't say it. She couldn't. It had all been in vain.

Then, suddenly, someone else was standing behind her. She hadn't even noticed him climbing up

onto the rostrum. The boy was there, too, holding a shotgun aimed at the benches — but no one

sitting there stirred. No one so much as lifted a finger to save Capricorn. And Mo took the book

from Meggie's hands, ran his eyes over the lines Fenoglio had added, and in a firm voice read to

the end of what the old man had written.

"And Capricorn fell down on his face, and his black heart stopped beating, and all those who had

gone burning and murdering with him disappeared — blown away like ashes in the wind. "

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Chapter 57 – A Deserted Village

In books I meet the dead as if they were alive, in books I see what is yet to come . .. All

things decay and pass with time ...all fame would fall victim to oblivion if God had not

given mortal men the book to aid them.

– Richard de Bury, The Philobiblon

So Capricorn died, just as Fenoglio had written, and Cockerell disappeared at the same moment

his master fell to the ground, and with him more than half the men on the benches. The rest ran

away, all of them, the boys and women, too. Those heading toward the village met some of

Capricorn's men running back from extinguishing the fire. Their faces were smeared with soot

and full of horror, and not because of the flames that had been licking around Capricorn's house,

for they had put those out. No. They had seen Flatnose and several other men vanish into thin

air before their very eyes. They were gone, as if the darkness had swallowed them up, as if they

had never existed. And perhaps that was the truth of it. The man who had made them had now

destroyed them, erased them like mistakes in a drawing, like marks on white paper. They were

gone, and the others, the men who had not been born of Fenoglio's words, were hurrying back to

tell Capricorn what had happened. But Capricorn lay on his face with gravel clinging to his red

suit, and never again would anyone tell him anything — about fire and smoke, about fear and

death. Never again.

Only the Shadow still stood there, a figure so tall that the men running across the parking lot

saw him from afar, gray before the black night sky, his eyes two blazing red stars, and they

forgot the master they had been going to serve. Every one of them ran for the cars. They wanted

only to get away, far away, before the being who had been summoned like a dog turned and

devoured them all.

Meggie did not come to her senses properly until they had all gone. She had nestled her head

under Mo's arm, as she always did when she simply didn't want to see the world. Mo put the

book under the jacket, which had almost made him look like one of Capricorn's henchmen. And

he held her tight while all about them people were running and screaming. Only the Shadow

stood perfectly still, as if killing his master had sapped all his power.

"Farid," Meggie heard Mo say, "can you get that cage open?"

Only then did she bring her head out from under Mo's arm and see that the Magpie was still

there. Why hadn't she disappeared, too? Darius was still holding on to her as if he was afraid of

what would happen if he let go. But she was no longer kicking and struggling. She was just

looking at Capricorn, with tears running down her sharp-boned face, over her small soft chin,

and falling like rain onto her dress.

Agile as Gwin, Farid jumped down from the rostrum and ran over to the cage, without once

taking his eyes off the Shadow. However, the Shadow just stood there motionless, as if he would

never move again.

"Meggie," whispered Mo. "Let's go over to the prisoners, shall we? Poor Elinor looks exhausted,

and there's someone else I want to introduce to you." Farid was already busy with the door of

the cage, but the two women inside were watching them.

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"You don't need to introduce her," said Meggie, squeezing his hand. "I know who she is. I've

known for ages. I wanted so much to tell you, but you weren't here, and now there's something

else we have to read first. The last few sentences." She took the book out from under Mo's jacket

and leafed through it until she found Fenoglio's sheet of paper still among the pages. "He wrote

them on the other side; there wasn't any space left on the first page," she said. "He just can't

make his handwriting small."

Fenoglio!

Meggie lowered the sheet of paper and looked around, searching for him, but she couldn't see

him anywhere. Had Capricorn's men taken him with them, or —?

"Mo, he's gone!" she said, dismayed.

"I'll go and look for him in a moment," Mo reassured her. "But now read the rest, quick! Or

should I do it?"

"No, I will."

The Shadow was beginning to move again. He took a step toward the dead Capricorn, staggered

back, and turned as clumsily as a dancing bear. Meggie thought she heard a groan.

Farid ducked down behind the cage when the red eyes looked his way. Her mother and Elinor

flinched, too, but Meggie read in a firm voice:

There stood the Shadow, and his memories hurt so much they almost tore him apart. He heard

them in his head, all those screams and sighs, he thought he could feel tears on his gray skin. Their

fear burned his eyes like smoke. Then, quite suddenly, he felt something differ ent, something that

made him shudder and forced him to his knees. Then his whole terrible figure disintegrated, and

suddenly they were all back again, all the beings from whose ashes the Shadow had been made:

men, women, and children, dogs and cats, goblins, fairies, and many more as well.

Meggie saw the arena filling up with them. More and more of them were gathering in a throng

where the Shadow had collapsed, all looking around as if they'd just woken from a deep sleep.

She read Fenoglio's last sentence.

They woke as if from a bad dream and, at last, everything was all right again.

"He isn't here anymore!" said Meggie when Mo took Fenoglio's sheet of paper from her and put

it back in the book. "Fenoglio's gone, Mo! He's in the story now. I know he is."

Mo looked at the book and tucked it back under his jacket. "Yes, I think you're right," he said.

"But if so, there's nothing we can do about it for the moment. Perhaps the story now goes on

beyond the book." He led Meggie away with him down from the rostrum, past all the people and