Inkdeath

Darius put the stack of books he was carrying down on the nearest glass case, went up to the shelf where Dickens made himself at home, taking up a lot of space in between Defoe and Dumas (the man had written just too many books, that was his trouble), went straight to the volume she wanted, and took it out. Without a word, he gave it to Elinor. Then he set about sorting the books he had brought into the library.

She felt so stupid, and Elinor hated to feel stupid. It was almost worse than feeling sad.

"It’s dirty!

Stop it, Elinor, she told herself. But she couldn’t. The words simply came out of her mouth. "When did you last dust the books? Do I have to do that for myself, too?"

Darius kept his thin back turned to her. He took the words without flinching, like an undeserved beating.

"What’s the matter? Has your stuttering tongue finally given up? Sometimes I wonder whether you have a tongue at all! Mortola ought to have taken you with her instead of Resa — even when she was mute, Resa was more talkative than you.

Darius put the last book on the shelf, straightened another, and marched toward the door, holding himself very straight.

"Darius! Come back!"

He didn’t even turn.

Damn. Elinor hurried after him, holding the Dickens which she had to admit, really wasn’t so very dusty. To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t dusty in the least. Of course it’s not, Elinor! she told herself As if you didn’t know how devotedly Darius removes the tiniest speck of dust from the books every Tuesday and Friday. Her cleaning lady always laughed at the fine brush he used for the purpose.

"Darius! For heaven’s sake, don’t make such a big deal of it!" No reply.

The dog overtook her on the stairs and looked down at her from the top step with his tongue hanging out.

"Darius!"

By that stupid dog’s slobber where was he?

His room was right next to the one Mortimer had used as an office. The door was open, and so was his suitcase, lying on the bed. It was the case she had bought him for their first trip together. Buying books with Darius had always been a pleasure (and she had to admit that he’d kept her from making many silly mistakes).

"What . . . ?" How heavy her sharp tongue suddenly felt. "What the devil are you doing?"

Well, what did she think? Very obviously, he was packing the few clothes he possessed.

"Darius!"

lie put the drawing of Meggie that Resa had given him onto the bed, with the notebook Mortimer had bound for him, and the bookmark that Meggie had made him from a blue jay’s feathers.

"The bathrobe," he said hesitantly, as he put the photograph of his parents, the one that always stood by his bed, in the case. "Do you mind if I take it with me?"

"Don’t ask such silly questions! Of course not! It was a present, for heaven’s sake.

But where are you going?"

Cerberus trotted into the room and went to the bedside cupboard. Darius always kept a few dog biscuits in the drawer.

"I don’t know yet. . . ."

He folded the bathrobe just as carefully as his other clothes (it was much too large for him, but how would she have known his size?), put the drawing, the notebook, and the bookmark in the case and closed it. Of course, he couldn’t manage to close the catches. He was so clumsy sometimes!

"Unpack that again! At once! This is silly."

But Darius shook his head.

"Heavens above, you can’t go as well and leave me all alone!" Elinor herself was frightened by the despair in her voice.

"You’re alone even when I’m here, Elinor," said Darius in a strained voice. "You’re so unhappy! I can’t stand it anymore!"

The stupid dog gave up snuffling around the bedside table and stood in front of her, looking sad. He’s right, said his watering doggy eyes.

As if she didn’t know! She couldn’t stand herself anymore, either. Had she been like this long ago? Before Meggie, Mortimer, and Resa came to live with her? Maybe.

But then there’d only been the books around, and they weren’t complaining.

Although, to be honest, she’d never been as hard on the books as she was on Darius.

"All right, you go, then!" Her voice began shaking in the most ridiculous way.

"Leave me alone. You’re right. Why would you want to watch me getting more insufferable every day, always waiting for some miracle to bring them back? Perhaps I ought to shoot myself or drown myself in the lake, instead of perishing slowly in this miserable way. Writers sometimes do that, and it sounds good in stories."

Oh, the way he was looking at her with his farsighted eyes! (She really ought to have bought him new glasses long ago. His present pair looked just too silly.) Then he opened the case again and stared at his possessions. He took out Meggie’s bookmark and stroked the boldly patterned blue feathers. Blue jay feathers. Meggie had glued them to a strip of pale yellow cardboard. It looked very pretty. Darius cleared his throat. He cleared it three times.

"Oh, very well!" he said at last, in a voice that he carefully kept level. "You win, Elinor. I’ll try it. Fetch me that sheet of paper. Or you probably will go and shoot yourself someday."

What? What was he saying? Elinor’s heart began to race, as if hurrying on ahead of her into the Inkworld to see the fairies, the glass men, and the people she loved so much more than she loved any book.

"You mean. . ."

Darius nodded, resigned, like a warrior who has fought too many battles. "Yes," he said. "Yes, Elinor."

"I’ll get it!" Elinor turned on her heel. Everything that had made her heart so heavy these last few weeks, turning her limbs to an old woman’s — it was all gone!

Vanished without trace.

But Darius called her back. "Elinor! We ought to take some of Meggie’s notebooks, too — and some practical things, like.. . like a lighter, for instance."

"And a knife!" Elinor added. After all, Basta was where they Were going, and she had sworn that when next she met him she’d have a knife in her own hand.

She almost fell down the stairs, she was in such a hurry to get back to the library.

Cerberus bounded after her, panting with excitement. Did he guess, in some corner of his doggy heart, that they were following his old master to the place where he’d gone when he had disappeared?

He’s going to try it! He’s going to try it! Elinor couldn’t think of anything else. She didn’t think of Resa’s lost voice, Cockerell’s stiff leg, or Flatnose’s mutilated face.

Everything’s going to be all right, that was all she thought as, with trembling fingers, she took the words that Orpheus had written out of the glass case. This time there won’t be any Capricorn to frighten Darius. This time he’ll read beautifully. Oh, dear God, Elinor, you’re going to see them again!

CHAPTER 22

TAKING THE BAIT

A dwarf about twice the size of a glass man. Definitely not furry like Tullio — no, the dwarf was to have skin as white as alabaster, a head too big for it, and bandy legs.

At least the Milksop always knew just what he wanted, even if his orders had come noticeably less often since the Piper arrived in the city. Orpheus was just wondering whether to give the dwarf red hair or the white hair of an albino when Oss knocked, and at his master’s grunt of "Enter" put his head around the door. Oss had revolting table manners and was not much given to washing himself, but he never forgot to knock.