at them. His younger daughter would have been about her age now if the fever hadn’t carried her off. Together with CloudDancer, he made his way past the crowded benches and chairs to the door. It was still fine outside, a sunny autumn day, clad in bright foliage like a strolling player.
“Come to Ombra with me!” CloudDancer laid a hand on his shoulder. “My horse will carry two, and we can always find a place to sleep there.”
But Dustfinger shook his head.
“Later,” he said, looking down the muddy road. “It’s time I paid a visit.”
47
Chapter 7 – Meggie’s Decision
The idea hovered and shivered delicately, like a soap bubble, and she dared not even look at it directly in case it burst. But she was familiar with the way of ideas, and she let it shimmer, looking away, thinking about something else.
– Philip Pullman, Northern Lights
Mo came home just as they were all sitting down to breakfast, and Resa kissed him as if he’d been away for weeks.
Meggie hugged him harder than usual, too, relieved that he had come back safe and sound, but she avoided looking him straight in the eye. Mo knew her too well. He would have spotted her guilty conscience at once. And Meggie’s conscience was very guilty.
The reason was the sheet of paper hidden among her schoolbooks up in her room, closely written in her own hand, although the words were by someone else. Meggie had spent hours copying out what Orpheus had written. Every time she got something wrong she had begun again from the beginning, for fear that a single mistake could spoil everything. She had added just three words – where the passage mentioned a boy, in the sentences left unread by Orpheus, Meggie had added “and the girl.” Three nondescript, perfectly ordinary words, so ordinary that it was overwhelmingly likely that they occurred somewhere in the pages of Inkheart. She couldn’t check, however, because the only copy of the book she would have needed to do that was now in Basta’s hands. Basta .. the mere sound of his name reminded Meggie of black days and black nights. Black with fear.
Mo had brought her a present to make peace between them, as he always did when they had quarreled: a small notebook bound by himself, just the right size for her jacket pocket, with a marbled paper cover. Mo knew how much Meggie liked marbled patterns; she had been only nine when he had taught her how to color them for herself. Guilt went to her heart when he put the notebook down by her plate, and for a moment she wanted to tell him everything, just as she had always done. But a glance from Farid prevented her. That glance said, “No, Meggie, he won’t let you go there – ever.” So she kept quiet, kissed Mo, whispered, “Thank you,” and said no more, quickly bending her head, her tongue heavy with the words she hadn’t spoken.
Luckily, no one noticed her sad expression. The others were still anxious about Farid’s news of Basta. Elinor had gone to the police, on Mo’s advice, but her visit to them had done nothing to improve her mood.
“Just as I told you,” she said crossly, working away at the cheese with her knife as if it were the cause of all this trouble. “Those fools didn’t believe a word I said. A couple of sheep in uniform would have listened better. You know I don’t like dogs, but maybe I ought to get some after a 48
couple of huge black brutes to tear Basta apart the moment he comes through my garden gate.
A Dobsterman dog, yes. A Dobsterman or two. Isn’t a Dobsterman the dog that eats people?”
“You mean a Doberman.” Mo winked across the table at Meggie.
It broke her heart. There he was winking at her, his deceitful daughter who was planning to go right away, to a place where he probably couldn’t follow her. Perhaps her mother would understand, but Mo? No, not Mo. Never.
Meggie bit her lip so hard that it hurt, while Elinor, still in a state of agitation, went on. “And I could hire a bodyguard. You
“Come to Ombra with me!” CloudDancer laid a hand on his shoulder. “My horse will carry two, and we can always find a place to sleep there.”
But Dustfinger shook his head.
“Later,” he said, looking down the muddy road. “It’s time I paid a visit.”
47
Chapter 7 – Meggie’s Decision
The idea hovered and shivered delicately, like a soap bubble, and she dared not even look at it directly in case it burst. But she was familiar with the way of ideas, and she let it shimmer, looking away, thinking about something else.
– Philip Pullman, Northern Lights
Mo came home just as they were all sitting down to breakfast, and Resa kissed him as if he’d been away for weeks.
Meggie hugged him harder than usual, too, relieved that he had come back safe and sound, but she avoided looking him straight in the eye. Mo knew her too well. He would have spotted her guilty conscience at once. And Meggie’s conscience was very guilty.
The reason was the sheet of paper hidden among her schoolbooks up in her room, closely written in her own hand, although the words were by someone else. Meggie had spent hours copying out what Orpheus had written. Every time she got something wrong she had begun again from the beginning, for fear that a single mistake could spoil everything. She had added just three words – where the passage mentioned a boy, in the sentences left unread by Orpheus, Meggie had added “and the girl.” Three nondescript, perfectly ordinary words, so ordinary that it was overwhelmingly likely that they occurred somewhere in the pages of Inkheart. She couldn’t check, however, because the only copy of the book she would have needed to do that was now in Basta’s hands. Basta .. the mere sound of his name reminded Meggie of black days and black nights. Black with fear.
Mo had brought her a present to make peace between them, as he always did when they had quarreled: a small notebook bound by himself, just the right size for her jacket pocket, with a marbled paper cover. Mo knew how much Meggie liked marbled patterns; she had been only nine when he had taught her how to color them for herself. Guilt went to her heart when he put the notebook down by her plate, and for a moment she wanted to tell him everything, just as she had always done. But a glance from Farid prevented her. That glance said, “No, Meggie, he won’t let you go there – ever.” So she kept quiet, kissed Mo, whispered, “Thank you,” and said no more, quickly bending her head, her tongue heavy with the words she hadn’t spoken.
Luckily, no one noticed her sad expression. The others were still anxious about Farid’s news of Basta. Elinor had gone to the police, on Mo’s advice, but her visit to them had done nothing to improve her mood.
“Just as I told you,” she said crossly, working away at the cheese with her knife as if it were the cause of all this trouble. “Those fools didn’t believe a word I said. A couple of sheep in uniform would have listened better. You know I don’t like dogs, but maybe I ought to get some after a 48
couple of huge black brutes to tear Basta apart the moment he comes through my garden gate.
A Dobsterman dog, yes. A Dobsterman or two. Isn’t a Dobsterman the dog that eats people?”
“You mean a Doberman.” Mo winked across the table at Meggie.
It broke her heart. There he was winking at her, his deceitful daughter who was planning to go right away, to a place where he probably couldn’t follow her. Perhaps her mother would understand, but Mo? No, not Mo. Never.
Meggie bit her lip so hard that it hurt, while Elinor, still in a state of agitation, went on. “And I could hire a bodyguard. You
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