Inkheart

13. CAPRICORN'S VILLAGE

The sun was already high in the cloudless sky when they set off. Soon the air was so hot and muggy in Elinor's car that Meggie's T-shirt was sticking to her skin with sweat. Elinor opened her window and passed a bottle of water around. She herself was wearing a knitted jacket buttoned up to her chin, and when Meggie wasn't thinking of Mo or Capricorn she wondered whether Elinor might melt away inside it.

Dustfinger sat in the backseat, so silent you could almost have forgotten he was there. He had put Gwin on his lap. The marten slept while Dustfinger's hands restlessly stroked his fur, passing over it again and again. Now and then Meggie turned to look at him. He was usually gazing out of the window indifferently, as if he were looking straight through the mountains and trees, houses and rocky slopes passing by outside. His expression seemed perfectly empty, as if he were thinking of something far away, and once, when Meggie glanced around, there was such sadness on his scarred face that she quickly turned to look out of the windshield ahead of her.

She would have liked to have an animal on her own lap during this long, long journey. Perhaps it would have driven away the dark thoughts that insisted on coming into her mind. Outside, the world was a place of gently unfolding mountains rising higher and higher. Sometimes it seemed as if they would crush the road between their gray and rocky sides. But worse than the mountains were the tunnels. Pictures seemed to lurk in them that not even Gwin's warm body could have kept at bay. They seemed to be hiding there in the darkness, waiting for Meggie: pictures of Mo in some grim, cold place, and of Capricorn… Meggie knew it must be Capricorn, although his face was different every time.

She tried reading for a while, but soon noticed that she wasn't taking in a word of what she read, so she gave it up and stared out of the window like Dustfinger. Elinor chose minor roads without much traffic on them. "Otherwise the driving gets so boring, " she said. It made no difference to Meggie. She just wanted to arrive. She looked impatiently at the mountains and the houses where other people lived. Sometimes, through the window of a car coming the other way, she caught a glimpse of a stranger's face, then it was gone, like a book you open then close at once. When they were driving through one village she saw a man by the roadside sticking a Band-Aid on the grazed knee of a tearful little girl. He was stroking her hair comfortingly, and Meggie couldn't help remembering how often Mo had done that for her, how he sometimes chased all around the house, cursing when he couldn't find a Band-Aid in time. The memory brought tears to her eyes.

"Heavens above, it's quieter in here than a pharaoh's burial chamber!" said Elinor at some point. (Meggie thought she said "Heavens above" quite a lot.) "Couldn't one of you at least say something now and then? 'Oh, what a lovely landscape!' for instance, or, 'That's a very fine castle!' If you keep as deathly quiet as this I'll be falling asleep at the wheel any minute now. " She still hadn't undone a single button of her knitted jacket.

"I don't see any castle," muttered Meggie, but it wasn't long before Elinor spotted one. "Sixteenth century," she announced as the ruined walls appeared on a mountainside. "Tragic story. Forbidden love, pursuit, death, grief, and pain." And as they passed between the strong and silent rock walls Elinor told the tale of a battle that had raged in this very place over six hundred years ago. "To this day, if you dig among the stones you'll still find bones and dented helmets. " She seemed to know a story about every church tower. Some were so unlikely that Meggie wrinkled her brow in disbelief, and Elinor, without taking her eyes off the road, always responded, "No, really, that's just what happened!" She seemed to be particularly fond of bloodthirsty stories: tales of the beheading of unhappy lovers, or princes walled up alive. "Yes, everything looks very peaceful now, " she remarked when Meggie turned a little pale at one of these stories. "But I can tell you there's always a sad story somewhere. Ah, well, times were more exciting a few hundred years ago. "

Meggie didn't know what was so exciting about times when, if Elinor was to be believed, your only choice was between dying of the plague or getting slaughtered by invading soldiers. But Elinor's cheeks glowed pink with excitement at the sight of some burnt-out old castle, and whenever she told tales of the warrior princes and greedy bishops who had once spread terror and death abroad in the very mountains through which they were now driving on modern paved roads, a romantic gleam lit her usually chilly pebble eyes.

"My dear Elinor, you were obviously born into the wrong story, " said Dustfinger at last. These were the first words he had spoken since they set out.

"The wrong story? The wrong period, you mean. Yes, I've often thought so myself. "

"Call it what you like, " said Dustfinger. "Anyway, you should get along well with Capricorn. He likes the same kinds of stories as you. "

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" asked Elinor, offended. The comparison seemed to trouble her, for after that she kept quiet for almost an hour, which left Meggie with nothing to distract her from her miserable thoughts and the frightening pictures they conjured up for her in every tunnel.

Twilight was beginning to fall when the mountains drew back from the road and the sea suddenly appeared beyond green hills, a sea as wide as another sky. The sinking sun made it glisten like the skin of a beautiful snake. It was a long time since Meggie had seen the sea, and then it had been a cold sea, slate gray and pale from the wind. This sea looked different, very different.

It warmed Meggie's heart just to see it, but all too often it disappeared behind the tall, ugly buildings covering the narrow strip of land that lay between the water and the encroaching

hills. Sometimes, the hills reached all the way down to the sea, and in the light of the setting sun they looked like giant waves that had rolled up onto the land.

As they followed the winding coastal road Elinor began telling stories again: tales of the Romans who, she said, had built the road they were on, and how they feared the savage inhabitants of this narrow strip of land. Meggie was only half listening. Palm trees grew beside the road, their fronds dusty and sharp-edged. Giant agaves flowered among the palms, looking like spiders squatting there with their long spiny leaves. The light behind them turned pink and lemon yellow as the sun sank farther down toward the sea, and dark blue trickled down from the sky like ink flowing into water. It was so beautiful a sight that it almost hurt to look at it. Meggie had thought the place where Capricorn lived would be quite different. Beauty and fear make uneasy companions.

They drove through a small town, past houses as bright as if a child had painted them. They were color-washed orange and pink, red and yellow. A great many were yellow: pale yellow, brownish yellow, sandy yellow, dirty yellow, and they had green shutters and red-brown roofs. Even the gathering twilight couldn't drain them of their brightness.

"It doesn't seem so very dangerous here, " remarked Meggie as they drove past another pink house.

"That's because you keeping looking to your left, " said Dustfinger behind her. "But there's always a light side and a dark side. Look to your right for a change. "

Meggie did as he said. At first she saw nothing but the brightly colored houses there, too. They crowded close to the roadside, leaning against each other as if they were arm in arm. But then the houses were suddenly left behind, and steep hills with the night already settling among their folds lined the road instead. Yes, Dustfinger was right. It looked sinister over there, and the few houses left seemed to be drowning in the gathering dusk.

It quickly grew darker, for night falls fast in the south, and Meggie was glad that Elinor was driving along the well-lit coastal road. But all too soon Dustfinger told her to turn off along a minor road leading away from the coast, away from the sea and the brightly colored houses, and into the dark.

The road wound farther and farther into the hills, going up and down as the slopes by the roadside grew steeper and steeper. The light of the headlights fell on brambles, on vines run wild, and on olive trees crouching like bent old men beside the road.

Only twice did they meet another vehicle coming toward them. Now and then the lights of a village emerged from the darkness. But the roads along which Dustfinger guided Elinor led away from the lights and deeper and deeper into the night. Several times the beam of the headlights fell on ruined houses, but Elinor didn't know stories about any of them. No princes had lived in those wretched hovels, no red-robed bishops, only farmers and laborers whose stories no one had written down, and now they were lost, buried under wild thyme and fast-growing spurge.

"Are we still going the right way?" asked Elinor in a muted voice, as if the world around her were too quiet for anyone to speak out loud. "Where on earth do we find a village in this godforsaken wilderness? We've probably taken at least two wrong turns already. "

But Dustfinger only shook his head. "We're going the right way, " he replied. "Once we're over that hill you'll be able to see the houses. "

"I certainly hope so!" muttered Elinor. "I can hardly make out the road. Heavens above, I had no idea anywhere in the world was still so dark. Couldn't you have told me what a long way it was? Then I'd have filled up the tank again, I don't even know if we have enough gas to make it back to the coast, "

"So whose car is this?" Dustfinger snapped back, "Mine? I told you I don't know the first thing about cars. Now, keep your eyes on the road. We'll be coming to the bridge any moment. "

"Bridge?" Elinor drove around the next bend and suddenly stamped on the brake. Right across the road, lit by two flood lights, was a metal barrier. It looked rusty, as if it had stood there for years.

"There!" said Elinor, clapping her hands on the steering wheel. "We have gone the wrong way. I told you so. "

"No, we haven't. " Dustfinger took Gwin off his shoulder and got out of the car. He looked around, listening intently as he approached the barrier, then dragged it over to the side of the road.

Elinor's look of disbelief almost made Meggie laugh out loud. "Has the man gone right out of his mind?" she whispered. "He doesn't think I'm going to drive down a closed road in this darkness, does he?"

All the same, she started the engine when Dustfinger impatiently waved her on. As soon as she was past him he pulled the barrier back across the road.

"No need to look at me like that!" he said, climbing back into the car. "The barrier's always there. Capricorn had it put up to keep unwanted visitors away. Not that people often venture up here. Capricorn spreads stories around the village that keep most of them at a distance, but -"

"What sort of stories?" Meggie interrupted him, although she didn't think she really wanted to know.

"Bloodcurdling stories," said Dustfinger. "Like most folk, the locals around here are superstitious. The most common tale is that the devil himself lives on the far side of that hill."

Meggie was angry with herself for being scared, but now she just couldn't take her eyes off the dark hilltop. "Mo says human beings invented the devil, " she said.

"Well, maybe. " Dustfinger's mysterious smile was hovering around his mouth again. "But you wanted to know about the stories. They say no bullet can kill the men who live in that village, they can walk through walls, that they kidnap three boys every month when the moon is new, and Capricorn teaches them to commit theft, arson, and murder."

"Good heavens, who thought all that up? The folk of these parts or this man Capricorn himself?" Elinor was leaning right over the steering wheel. The road was full of potholes, and she had to drive very slowly so as not to get stuck.

"Both. " Dustfinger leaned back and let Gwin nibble his fingers. "Capricorn rewards people who think up new stories. The one man who never joins in that game is Basta. He's so superstitious himself he even goes out of his way to avoid black cats. "

Basta. Meggie remembered the name, but before she could ask any more questions Dustfinger was speaking again. He seemed to enjoy telling these tales. "Oh yes, I almost forgot! Of course everyone living in the village of the damned has the evil eye, even the women. "

"The evil eye?" Meggie looked at him.

"That's right. One glance and you fall mortally ill. Three days after that, at the latest, and you're dead as a doornail. "

"Who'd believe a thing like that?" murmured Meggie, turning to look ahead of her again.

"Idiots would. " Elinor stamped on the brake again. The car skidded over gravel on the road. The bridge Dustfinger had mentioned lay ahead, its gray stone pale in the headlights.

"Go on, go on!" said Dustfinger impatiently. "It'll hold, though you might not think so. "

"It looks as if the ancient Romans built it, " muttered Elinor. "But for donkeys, not cars. "

All the same, Elinor drove on. Meggie squeezed her eyes shut tight, and didn't open them until she could hear the gravel under the car tires once more.

"Capricorn likes this bridge a lot, " said Dustfinger quietly. "A single well-armed man is enough to make it impassable. But luckily he doesn't post a guard here every night. "

"Dustfinger. " Meggie turned hesitantly to look at him as Elinor's car labored up the last hill. "What are we going to say when they ask us how we found the village? I mean, it's not going to be a good idea for Capricorn to know that you showed us the way, is it?"

"No, you're right, " muttered Dustfinger, avoiding Meggie's eyes. "Although, we are bringing him the book. " He picked up Gwin who was clambering around the backseat, held him so that he couldn't snap, and then lured him into the backpack with a piece of bread. The marten had been restless ever since darkness fell. He wanted to go hunting.

They had reached the top of the hill. The world around them had disappeared from view, swallowed up by the night, but not far away a few pale rectangles glowed in the dark. Lighted windows.

"There it is, " said Dustfinger. "Capricorn's village. Or the devil's village, if you prefer. " He laughed softly.

Elinor turned to him crossly. "For heaven's sake, will you stop that!" she snapped at him. "You really seem to like these stories. Who knows, perhaps they're all your own invention, and this Capricorn is just a rather eccentric book collector!"

Dustfinger made no reply, but only looked out of the window with the strange smile that Meggie sometimes wanted to wipe off his face. Yet again, it seemed to be saying: How stupid you two are!

Elinor had switched off the engine. The silence surrounding them was so absolute that Meggie hardly dared to breathe. She looked down at the lighted windows. Usually, she thought brightly lit windows were an inviting sight in the dark, but these seemed far more menacing than the darkness all around.

"Does this village have any normal inhabitants?" asked Elinor. "Harmless old grannies, children, people who don't have anything to do with Capricorn?"

"No. Nobody lives here but Capricorn and his men, " whispered Dustfinger, "and the women who cook and clean and so on for them. "

"And so on'… oh, wonderful!" Elinor snorted with distaste. "I like the sound of this Capricorn less and less! OK, let's get this over and done with. I want to go home to my books, real electric light, and a nice cup of coffee. "

"Really? I thought you were longing for a little adventure. "

If Gwin could speak, thought Meggie, he'd do it in Dustfinger's voice.

"I prefer adventures in the sunlight, " replied Elinor curtly. "Heavens, how I hate this darkness! Still, if we sit around here until dawn my books will be mildewed before Mortimer can do anything about them. Meggie, go around to the back of the car and get that bag. You know the one. "

Meggie nodded and was just about to open the passenger door when a glaring light blinded her. Someone whose face she couldn't make out was standing beside the driver's door, shining a flashlight into the car. He tapped it commandingly against the pane.

Elinor jumped in such alarm she hit her knee on the steering wheel, but she quickly pulled herself together. Cursing, she rubbed her hurt leg and opened the window.

"What's the idea?" she snapped at the stranger. "Do you have to frighten us to death? A person could easily get run over, skulking around in the dark like that. "

By way of answer the stranger pushed the barrel of a shot gun through the open window. "This is private property!" he said. Meggie thought she recognized the rasping cat's-tongue voice from Elinor's library. "And a person can very easily get shot trespassing on private property at night. "

"I can explain. " Dustfinger leaned over Elinor's shoulder.

"Well, well, who have we here? If it isn't Dustfinger!" The man withdrew the barrel of his gun. "Do you have to turn up in the middle of the night?"

Elinor turned and cast Dustfinger a glance that was more than suspicious. "I'd no idea you were on such friendly terms with these people!" she commented. "You called them devils!"

But Dustfinger was already out of the car. And Meggie didn't like the familiar way the two men were talking. She remembered exactly what Dustfinger had said to her about

Capricorn's men. How could he talk to one of them like this? However hard Meggie strained her ears, she couldn't make out what the pair was saying. She caught only one thing. Dustfinger called the stranger Basta.

"I don't like this!" whispered Elinor. "Look at the pair of them. They're talking to each other as if our matchstick-eating friend can come and go here as he likes!"

"He probably knows they won't hurt him because we're bringing them the book!" Meggie whispered back, never taking her eyes off the two men. The stranger had a couple of dogs with him. German shepherds. They were sniffing Dustfinger's hands and nuzzling him in the ribs, wagging their tails.

"See that?" hissed Elinor. "Even those dogs treat him like an old friend. Suppose -"

But before she could say anymore Basta opened the driver's door. "Get out, both of you, " he ordered.

Reluctantly, Elinor swung her legs out of the car. Meggie got out, too, and stood beside her. Her heart was thudding. She had never seen a man with a gun before. Well, on TV she had, but not in real life.

"Look, I don't like your tone!" Elinor informed Basta. "We've had a strenuous drive, and we only came to this god forsaken spot to bring your boss or whatever you call him something he's been wanting for a long time. So let's have a little more civility. "

Basta cast her such a scornful glance that Elinor drew in a sharp breath, and Meggie involuntarily squeezed her hand.

"Where did you pick her up?" inquired Basta, turning back to Dustfinger, who was standing there looking as unmoved as if none of this had anything at all to do with him.

"She owns that house – you know the one I mean. "

Dustfinger had lowered his voice, but Meggie heard him all the same. "I didn't want to bring her, but she insisted. "

"I can imagine that. " Basta scrutinized Elinor once again, then turned to Meggie. "So, this is Silvertongue's little daughter? Doesn't look much like him. "

"Where's my father?" asked Meggie. "How is he?" These were the first words she had managed to utter. Her voice was hoarse, as if she hadn't used it for a long time.

"Oh, he's fine, " replied Basta, glancing at Dustfinger. "Although he's saying so little at the moment that Leaden-tongue would be more like it. "

Meggie bit her lip. "We've come for him, " she said. Now her voice was high and thin, although she was trying as hard as she could to sound grown-up. "We have the book, but we won't give it to Capricorn unless he lets my father go. "

Basta turned to Dustfinger again. "Something about her does remind me of her father after all. See her lips tighten? And that look! Oh yes, anyone can see they're related. " His voice sounded as if he were joking, but there was nothing funny about his face when he looked at Meggie again. It was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes. He narrowed them slightly as if he could see better that way. Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy's, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step toward her. She was afraid of him. She had never been so afraid of anyone before, and it wasn't because of the shotgun in his hand. He had an aura of fury about him, of something keen and biting -

"Meggie, get the bag out of the trunk." As Basta was about to grab Meggie, Elinor pushed herself between them. "There's nothing dangerous in it, " she said crossly. "Just what we came here to hand over. "

By way of answer, Basta pulled the dogs aside, yanking on their leashes so harshly that they yelped out loud.

"Meggie, listen to me!" whispered Elinor as they left the car and followed Basta down a steep pathway leading to the lighted windows. "Don't hand over the book until they let us see your father, understand?"

Meggie nodded, clutching the plastic bag firmly to her chest. How stupid did Elinor think she was? On the other hand, how was she going to hang on to the book if Basta decided to take it away from her? She preferred not to follow this line of thinking through to its conclusion.

It was a hot, sultry night. The sky above the black hills was sprinkled with stars. The path down which Basta was leading them was stony and so dark that Meggie could hardly see her own feet, but whenever she stumbled there was a hand to catch her. The hand belonged either to Elinor, walking beside her, or to Dustfinger, who was following as silently as if he were her shadow. Gwin was still in his backpack, and Basta's dogs kept raising their noses and sniffing, as if they had picked up the sharp scent of the marten.

Slowly, they came closer to the lighted windows. Meggie saw old houses of gray, rough-hewn stone, with a pale church tower rising above the rooftops. Many of the houses looked empty as they passed, going down alleys so narrow that Meggie felt they could close in on her. Some of the houses had no roofs, others were little more than a couple of walls partly fallen in. It was dark in Capricorn's village. Only a few lamps were on in the streets, hanging from masonry arches above the alleyways. At last they reached a small square. The church with the tower they had seen from a distance stood on one side of the square, and not far away, divided from it by a narrow hallway, there was a large two-story house, which did not look at all derelict. This square was better lit than the rest of the village, with four lanterns casting menacing shadows on the paving stones. Basta led them straight to the big house, where more light showed behind three windows on the upper floor. Was Mo in there? Meggie listened to herself as if she could find the answer there, but all her heart would tell her was a tale of fear. Fear and grief.