sad? Resa laughed when, for her and Elinor’s benefit, he mimicked the horror of the collector whose books he had abandoned so disgracefully when Meggie had phoned, and Meggie had to laugh, too, when he imitated the poor man’s voice. The collector had obviously been very fat and breathless.
Elinor was the only one who didn’t laugh. “I don’t think that’s funny, Mortimer,” she said sharply. “Personally, I’d probably have shot you if you’d simply gone off leaving my poor books behind, all sick and dirty.”
“Yes, I expect you would.” Mo gave Meggie a conspiratorial look, as he always did when Elinor lectured him or his daughter on the way to treat books or the rules of her library.
Oh Mo, if only you knew , thought Meggie, if only you knew . . She felt as if he would read her secret in her face any minute now. Abruptly, she pushed back her chair, muttered, “I’m not hungry,”
and went off to Elinor’s library. Where else?
Whenever she wanted to escape her own thoughts, she went to books for help. She was sure to find something to keep her mind occupied until evening finally came and they all went to bed, suspecting nothing.
Looking at Elinor’s library, you couldn’t tell that scarcely more than a year ago it had contained nothing but a red rooster hanging dead in front of empty shelves, while Elinor’s finest books burned on the lawn outside. The jar that Elinor had filled with some of their pale ashes still stood beside her bed.
Meggie ran her forefinger over the backs of the books. They were ranged side by side on the shelves again now, like piano keys. Some shelves were still empty, but Elinor and Darius were always out and about, visiting second-hand bookshops and auctions, to replace those lost treasures with new and equally wonderful books. Orpheus .. where was the story of Orpheus?
Meggie was on her way over to the shelf where the Greeks and Romans whispered their ancient stories when the library door opened behind her, and Mo came in.
“Resa says you have the sheet of paper that Farid brought with him in your room. Can I see it?”
He was trying to sound as casual as if he were just asking about the weather, but he’d never been any good at pretending. Mo couldn’t pretend, any more than he could tell lies.
“Why?” Meggie leaned against Elinor’s books as if they would strengthen her backbone. “Why?
Because I’m curious, remember? And what’s more,” he added, looking at the backs of the books, 50
as if he could find the right words there, “and what’s more, I think it would be better to burn that sheet of paper.” “Burn it?” Meggie looked at him incredulously. “But why?”
“I know it sounds as if I’m seeing ghosts,” he said, taking a book off the shelf, opening it, and leafing absentmindedly through it, “but that piece of paper, Meggie .. I feel it’s like an open door, a door that we’d be well advised to close once and for all. Before Farid tries disappearing into that damn story, too.” “What if he does?” Meggie couldn’t help the cool note that crept into her voice. As if she were talking to a stranger. “Why can’t you understand? He only wants to find Dustfinger! To warn him about Basra.”
Mo closed the book he had taken off the shelf and put it back in its place. “So he says. But suppose Dustfinger didn’t actually want to take him along, suppose he left him behind on purpose? Would that surprise you?”
No. No, it wouldn’t. Meggie said nothing. It was so quiet among the books, so terribly quiet among all those words.
“I know, Meggie,” said Mo at last, in a low voice. “I know you think the world that book describes is much more exciting than this one. I understand the feeling. I’ve often imagined being right inside one of my favourite books. But we both know that once imagination turns to reality things feel quite different. You think the Inkworld is a magical place, a world of wonders – but believe me,
Elinor was the only one who didn’t laugh. “I don’t think that’s funny, Mortimer,” she said sharply. “Personally, I’d probably have shot you if you’d simply gone off leaving my poor books behind, all sick and dirty.”
“Yes, I expect you would.” Mo gave Meggie a conspiratorial look, as he always did when Elinor lectured him or his daughter on the way to treat books or the rules of her library.
Oh Mo, if only you knew , thought Meggie, if only you knew . . She felt as if he would read her secret in her face any minute now. Abruptly, she pushed back her chair, muttered, “I’m not hungry,”
and went off to Elinor’s library. Where else?
Whenever she wanted to escape her own thoughts, she went to books for help. She was sure to find something to keep her mind occupied until evening finally came and they all went to bed, suspecting nothing.
Looking at Elinor’s library, you couldn’t tell that scarcely more than a year ago it had contained nothing but a red rooster hanging dead in front of empty shelves, while Elinor’s finest books burned on the lawn outside. The jar that Elinor had filled with some of their pale ashes still stood beside her bed.
Meggie ran her forefinger over the backs of the books. They were ranged side by side on the shelves again now, like piano keys. Some shelves were still empty, but Elinor and Darius were always out and about, visiting second-hand bookshops and auctions, to replace those lost treasures with new and equally wonderful books. Orpheus .. where was the story of Orpheus?
Meggie was on her way over to the shelf where the Greeks and Romans whispered their ancient stories when the library door opened behind her, and Mo came in.
“Resa says you have the sheet of paper that Farid brought with him in your room. Can I see it?”
He was trying to sound as casual as if he were just asking about the weather, but he’d never been any good at pretending. Mo couldn’t pretend, any more than he could tell lies.
“Why?” Meggie leaned against Elinor’s books as if they would strengthen her backbone. “Why?
Because I’m curious, remember? And what’s more,” he added, looking at the backs of the books, 50
as if he could find the right words there, “and what’s more, I think it would be better to burn that sheet of paper.” “Burn it?” Meggie looked at him incredulously. “But why?”
“I know it sounds as if I’m seeing ghosts,” he said, taking a book off the shelf, opening it, and leafing absentmindedly through it, “but that piece of paper, Meggie .. I feel it’s like an open door, a door that we’d be well advised to close once and for all. Before Farid tries disappearing into that damn story, too.” “What if he does?” Meggie couldn’t help the cool note that crept into her voice. As if she were talking to a stranger. “Why can’t you understand? He only wants to find Dustfinger! To warn him about Basra.”
Mo closed the book he had taken off the shelf and put it back in its place. “So he says. But suppose Dustfinger didn’t actually want to take him along, suppose he left him behind on purpose? Would that surprise you?”
No. No, it wouldn’t. Meggie said nothing. It was so quiet among the books, so terribly quiet among all those words.
“I know, Meggie,” said Mo at last, in a low voice. “I know you think the world that book describes is much more exciting than this one. I understand the feeling. I’ve often imagined being right inside one of my favourite books. But we both know that once imagination turns to reality things feel quite different. You think the Inkworld is a magical place, a world of wonders – but believe me,
Similar Books
