him look more grown-up. Farid. Meggie felt her tongue relishing his name – and quickly turned her eyes away when he raised his head and looked at her.
Elinor stared at him all the time without any embarrassment and with as much hostility as she had shown in scrutinizing Dustfinger when he had sat at her kitchen table, feeding his marten bread and ham. She hadn’t let Farid bring the marten into the house with him. “And if he eats a single songbird in my garden he’d better watch out!” she said as the marten scurried away over the pale gravel. She had bolted the door after him, as if Gwin could open locked doors as easily as his master.
Farid played with a book of matches as he told his tale.
“Look at that!” Elinor whispered to Meggie. “Just like the matchstick-eater. Don’t you think he looks a lot like him?”
But Meggie did not reply. She didn’t want to miss a word of the story Farid had to tell. She wanted to hear everything about Dustfinger’s return, about the man with the hellhound who read aloud so well, about the snarling creature that could have been one of the big cats from the Wayless Wood – and about the words that Basta had shouted after Farid: “You can run, but I’ll get you yet, do you hear? You, the fire-eater, Silvertongue and his hoity-toity daughter – and the old man who wrote those accursed words! I’ll kill you all! One by one!”
While Farid told his story, Resa’s eyes kept straying to the grubby piece of paper he had put down on the kitchen table. She looked at it as if she were afraid of it, as if the words on that paper could draw her back again. Back to the Inkworld. When Farid repeated the threat Basta had shouted, she put her arms around Meggie and held her close. But Darius, who had been sitting next to Elinor in silence all this time, buried his face in his hands. Farid didn’t waste much time describing how he had gotten to Elinor’s house on his bare, bloody feet. In answer to Meggie’s questions, he just muttered something about getting a lift from a truck driver. He ended 32
his account abruptly, as if he had suddenly run out of words, and when he fell silent it was very quiet in the big kitchen.
Farid had brought an invisible guest with him. Fear.
“Put more coffee on, Darius!” said Elinor as she looked gloomily at the table laid for supper. No one was taking any notice of it. “This could be iced tea, it’s so cold.”
Darius set to work at once, busy and eager, like a bespectacled squirrel, while Elinor gave Farid a glance as cold as if he were personally responsible for the bad news he had brought. Meggie still remembered just how alarming she had once found that look. “The woman with pebble eyes,”
she had secretly called Elinor. Sometimes the name still fitted.
“What a terrific story!” exclaimed Elinor as Resa went to give Darius a hand; Farid’s news had obviously made him so nervous that he couldn’t measure out the right amount of ground coffee.
He had just begun counting the spoonfuls he was tipping into the filter for the third time when Resa gently took the measuring spoon from his hand.
“So Basta’s back with a brand-new knife and a mouth full of peppermint leaves, I suspect. Bloody hell!” Elinor was apt to swear when she was anxious or annoyed. “As if it wasn’t bad enough waking up every third night drenched in sweat because I’ve seen his foxy face in my dreams ..
not to mention his knife. But let’s try to keep calm! Look at it like this: Basta knows where I live, but obviously it’s Mo and Meggie he’s after, not me, so this house ought really to be safe as –
well, safe as houses, for you. After all, he’s not likely to know you’ve moved in here, is he?” She looked at Resa and Meggie triumphantly, as if this were a conclusive argument.
But Meggie’s response made Elinor’s face darken again at once. “Farid knew,” she pointed out.
“So he did,” growled Elinor, her glance turning to
Elinor stared at him all the time without any embarrassment and with as much hostility as she had shown in scrutinizing Dustfinger when he had sat at her kitchen table, feeding his marten bread and ham. She hadn’t let Farid bring the marten into the house with him. “And if he eats a single songbird in my garden he’d better watch out!” she said as the marten scurried away over the pale gravel. She had bolted the door after him, as if Gwin could open locked doors as easily as his master.
Farid played with a book of matches as he told his tale.
“Look at that!” Elinor whispered to Meggie. “Just like the matchstick-eater. Don’t you think he looks a lot like him?”
But Meggie did not reply. She didn’t want to miss a word of the story Farid had to tell. She wanted to hear everything about Dustfinger’s return, about the man with the hellhound who read aloud so well, about the snarling creature that could have been one of the big cats from the Wayless Wood – and about the words that Basta had shouted after Farid: “You can run, but I’ll get you yet, do you hear? You, the fire-eater, Silvertongue and his hoity-toity daughter – and the old man who wrote those accursed words! I’ll kill you all! One by one!”
While Farid told his story, Resa’s eyes kept straying to the grubby piece of paper he had put down on the kitchen table. She looked at it as if she were afraid of it, as if the words on that paper could draw her back again. Back to the Inkworld. When Farid repeated the threat Basta had shouted, she put her arms around Meggie and held her close. But Darius, who had been sitting next to Elinor in silence all this time, buried his face in his hands. Farid didn’t waste much time describing how he had gotten to Elinor’s house on his bare, bloody feet. In answer to Meggie’s questions, he just muttered something about getting a lift from a truck driver. He ended 32
his account abruptly, as if he had suddenly run out of words, and when he fell silent it was very quiet in the big kitchen.
Farid had brought an invisible guest with him. Fear.
“Put more coffee on, Darius!” said Elinor as she looked gloomily at the table laid for supper. No one was taking any notice of it. “This could be iced tea, it’s so cold.”
Darius set to work at once, busy and eager, like a bespectacled squirrel, while Elinor gave Farid a glance as cold as if he were personally responsible for the bad news he had brought. Meggie still remembered just how alarming she had once found that look. “The woman with pebble eyes,”
she had secretly called Elinor. Sometimes the name still fitted.
“What a terrific story!” exclaimed Elinor as Resa went to give Darius a hand; Farid’s news had obviously made him so nervous that he couldn’t measure out the right amount of ground coffee.
He had just begun counting the spoonfuls he was tipping into the filter for the third time when Resa gently took the measuring spoon from his hand.
“So Basta’s back with a brand-new knife and a mouth full of peppermint leaves, I suspect. Bloody hell!” Elinor was apt to swear when she was anxious or annoyed. “As if it wasn’t bad enough waking up every third night drenched in sweat because I’ve seen his foxy face in my dreams ..
not to mention his knife. But let’s try to keep calm! Look at it like this: Basta knows where I live, but obviously it’s Mo and Meggie he’s after, not me, so this house ought really to be safe as –
well, safe as houses, for you. After all, he’s not likely to know you’ve moved in here, is he?” She looked at Resa and Meggie triumphantly, as if this were a conclusive argument.
But Meggie’s response made Elinor’s face darken again at once. “Farid knew,” she pointed out.
“So he did,” growled Elinor, her glance turning to
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