Inkheart Page 17

  tree. The tangled thorn bushes growing among its gnarled roots were just tall enough to hide them.

  ‘What about the snakes?’ Elinor whispered as she stumbled after them.

  ‘Too cold for snakes at the moment!’ whispered Dustfinger from his hiding-place. ‘Haven’t you learnt anything from all those clever books of yours?’

  Elinor was about to snap back an answer, but Mo quickly put a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. The vehicle appeared on the road below them. It was the white delivery van in which the guard had been sleeping. Without slowing down, it drove past the place where they had pushed Elinor’s estate car over the slope, and disappeared round the next bend. Relieved, Meggie was about to raise her head above the thorn bushes when Mo pushed her down again. ‘Not yet!’ he muttered, straining his ears.

  The night was perfectly still. Meggie had never known one like it. It was as if she could hear the trees breathing – the trees, the grass, the night itself.

  They watched the van headlights emerge on the slope of the next hill: two fingers of light groping their way along an invisible road in the dark. But suddenly they stopped moving.

  ‘They’re turning!’ whispered Elinor. ‘Oh God! Now what?’

  She tried to stand up, but Mo held her back. ‘Are you mad?’ he hissed. ‘It’s too late to climb any further. They’d see us.’

  Mo was right. The delivery van was speeding back up the road. Meggie saw it stop just a few metres from where they had pushed Elinor’s car off the road. She heard the van doors open and saw two men get out. Both had their backs to the fugitives, but when one of them turned and looked suspiciously up the slope Meggie thought she recognised Basta’s face, though it was little more than a patch of paler colour in the night.

  ‘There’s the car,’ said the other man.

  Was that Flatnose? He was certainly tall and broad enough.

  ‘See if they’re in it.’

  Yes, that was Basta. Meggie would have known his voice among a thousand others.

  Flatnose made his way down the slope, clumsy as a bear. Meggie heard him cursing the thorns, the prickles, the darkness and the wretched riff-raff he was having to stumble after in the middle of the night. Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter. The white smoke drifted up to them until Meggie thought she could almost smell it.

  ‘They’re not here,’ called Flatnose. ‘They must have got away on foot. Hell, do you think we have to follow them?’

  Basta went over to the roadside and looked down. Then he turned and looked up at the slope where Meggie was crouching beside Mo, her heart thudding wildly. ‘They can’t have got far,’ he said. ‘But it’ll be difficult to find their trail in the dark.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Flatnose was panting as he appeared back on the road. ‘We’re not bloody native trackers, are we?’

  Basta did not reply. He just stood there, listening and inhaling his cigarette smoke. Then he whispered something to Flatnose. Meggie’s heart almost stopped.

  Flatnose looked round anxiously. ‘Nah, let’s get the dogs instead!’ Meggie heard him say. ‘Even if they’re hiding somewhere around here, how do we know whether they climbed up or down?’

  Basta glanced at the trees, looked down the road, and trod out his cigarette. Then he went back to the van and took out two shotguns. ‘We’ll try going down first,’ he said, tossing Flatnose one of the guns. ‘I’m sure that fat woman would rather climb downhill.’ And without another word, he vanished into the darkness. Flatnose cast the van a longing glance, then trudged after him, grumbling.

  The two were barely out of sight before Dustfinger rose to his feet, soundless as a shadow, and pointed up the slope. Meggie’s heart was beating in her throat as they followed him. They darted from tree to tree, from bush to bush, constantly looking behind them. Every time a twig cracked underfoot Meggie jumped, but luckily Basta and Flatnose were making a fair amount of noise themselves as they worked their way downhill through the undergrowth.

  A time came when they couldn’t see the road any more. But their fear did not leave them, the fear that Basta might have turned back already and was now following them uphill. Yet, however often they stopped and listened, all they could hear was their own breathing.

  ‘They’ll soon realise they’ve gone the wrong way,’ Dustfinger whispered after a while. ‘Then they’ll go back for the dogs. We’re lucky they didn’t bring them in the first place. Basta doesn’t think much of those dogs, and he’s right. I’ve fed them cheese often enough, and cheese dulls a dog’s nose. All the same, he’ll fetch them sooner or later, because even Basta doesn’t like taking bad news back to Capricorn.’

  ‘Then we must just go faster,’ said Mo.

  ‘Go faster where?’ Elinor was still fighting for breath.

  Dustfinger looked round. Meggie wondered why. She could hardly make anything out, it was so dark. ‘We must keep going south,’ said Dustfinger. ‘Towards the coast. We must hide among other people. That’s the only thing that can save us. Down there the nights are bright and nobody believes in the Devil.’

  Farid was standing beside Meggie, gazing at the night sky as if he could make morning come, or find the people Dustfinger had mentioned somewhere, but there wasn’t a light to be seen in the darkness except for the tangle of stars sparkling cold and distant in the heavens. For a moment, Meggie felt as if those stars were eyes giving their presence away, and imagined she could hear them whispering, ‘Look, Basta, there they go, down there! Quick, catch them!’

  They stumbled on, keeping close together so that no one would get lost. Dustfinger had taken Gwin out of his rucksack and put him on his chain before letting him run with them. The marten didn’t seem to like it. Dustfinger had to keep hauling him out of the undergrowth, away from all the promising scents that their human noses couldn’t pick up. The marten spat and snarled with annoyance, biting and tearing at the chain.

  ‘Curse the little brute, I’m sure to fall over it,’ said Elinor crossly. ‘Can’t you keep it away from my sore feet? I tell you one thing, the moment we’re in decent human company again I’m going to take the best hotel room money can buy and put my poor feet up on a big soft cushion.’

  ‘You’ve still got money on you?’ Mo sounded incredulous. ‘They took all mine first thing.’

  ‘Yes, Basta took my wallet too,’ said Elinor. ‘But I think ahead. I have my credit card somewhere safe.’

  ‘Is anywhere safe from Basta?’ Dustfinger dragged Gwin away from a tree trunk.

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Elinor. ‘Men are never particularly keen to search fat old ladies. Which can be useful. That was how some of my most valuable books came into my—’ She interrupted herself abruptly, clearing her throat when her eyes fell on Meggie. But Meggie acted as if she hadn’t heard Elinor’s last remark, or at least hadn’t understood what she meant.

  ‘You’re not all that fat!’ Meggie said. ‘And old is a bit of an exaggeration!’ Oh, how her own feet hurt.

  ‘Well, thank you very much, darling!’ said Elinor. ‘I think I’ll buy you from your father so you can say nice things like that to me three times a day. How much do you want for her, Mo?’

  ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ replied Mo. ‘Suppose I lend her to you for a few days now and then?’

  They chatted like this, voices scarcely raised above a whisper, as they struggled through the thorny growth on the hillside. It didn’t matter what they talked about, for their hushed conversation had only one purpose: to fend off the fear and exhaustion weighing down all their limbs. On and on they walked, hoping that Dustfinger knew where he was taking them. Meggie kept close behind Mo all the time. At least his back offered some protection from the thorny branches which kept catching at her clothes and scratching her face, like vicious animals with needle-sharp claws lying in wait in the dark.

  At last, they came upon a footpath they could follow. It was littered with empty cartridge cases dropped by hun
ters who had dealt out death in this silent place. Walking was easier on the trodden earth, although Meggie was so tired she could hardly pick her feet up. When she stumbled against the back of Mo’s legs for the second time, he put her on his back and carried her as he used to do before she could keep up with his long legs. He had called her ‘Little Flea’ in those days, or ‘Feather Girl’, or ‘Tinker Bell’ after the fairy in Peter Pan. Sometimes he still called her Tinker Bell.

  Wearily, Meggie rested her face against his shoulders and tried to think of Peter Pan instead of snakes, or men with knives. But this time her own story was too strong to give way to an invented one. Mo was right: fear, unfortunately, devours everything.

  It was a long time since Farid had said anything. Most of the time he stumbled along after Dustfinger. He seemed to have taken a fancy to Gwin. Whenever the marten’s chain got caught up somewhere Farid would rush to free him, even if Gwin only hissed at him in return and snapped at his fingers. Once he sank his teeth into the boy’s thumb and made it bleed.

  ‘Well, do you still think this is a dream?’ asked Dustfinger ironically as Farid wiped the blood away.

  The boy didn’t answer, just examined his sore thumb. Then he sucked it and spat. ‘What else could it be?’ he asked.

  Dustfinger looked at Mo, but he seemed so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the glance. ‘How about another story?’ said Dustfinger.

  Farid laughed. ‘Another story. I like that idea. I’ve always been fond of stories.’

  ‘Oh yes? And how do you like this one?’

  ‘Too many thorns, and I wish it would get light, but at least I haven’t had to work yet. That’s something.’

  Meggie couldn’t help smiling.

  A bird called in the distance. Gwin stopped and raised his round muzzle, sniffing the air. The night belongs to beasts of prey, and always has. It’s easy to forget that when you’re indoors, protected by light and solid walls. Night provides cover for hunters, making it easy for them to creep up and strike their prey blind. Words about the night from one of her favourite books slipped into Meggie’s mind: ‘This is the hour of pride and power, talon and tush and claw.’

  She snuggled her face against Mo’s shoulder once more. Perhaps I ought to walk again, she thought. He’s been carrying me for so long. But then she nodded off to sleep still perched on his back.

  21

  Basta

  This grove, that was now so peaceful, must then have rung with cries, I thought; and even with the thought I could believe I heard it ringing still.

  Robert Louis Stevenson,

  Treasure Island

  Meggie woke up when Mo stopped. The path had brought them almost to the crest of the hill. It was still dark, but the night was growing paler as if lifting her skirts a little way off to let the new morning appear.

  ‘We must take a breather, Dustfinger,’ Meggie heard Mo saying. ‘The boy can hardly keep up, Elinor’s feet must need a rest, and if you ask me this wouldn’t be a bad place for one.’

  ‘What feet?’ asked Elinor, sinking to the ground with a groan. ‘You mean those poor sore objects attached to my legs?’

  ‘That’s what I mean,’ said Mo, as he pulled her up again. ‘But they must go just a little further. We’ll rest up there.’

  A good fifty metres to their left, at the very top of the hill, there was a house, if you could call it that, huddled among the olive trees. Meggie slipped off Mo’s back before they climbed up to it. The walls looked as if someone had piled up a number of stones in a hurry, the roof had collapsed, and where there must once have been a door only a black hole now gaped.

  Mo had to bend low to make his way in. Broken shingles from the roof covered the floor, there was an empty sack in a corner, some broken earthenware shards, perhaps from a dish or a plate, and a few bones gnawed clean. Mo sighed.

  ‘Not a very comfortable place, Meggie,’ he said. ‘But try imagining you’re hiding out with the Lost Boys, or …’

  ‘Or in Huckleberry Finn’s tub.’ Meggie looked round. ‘I think I’d rather sleep outside, all the same.’

  Elinor came in. The accommodation didn’t seem to appeal much to her either.

  Mo gave Meggie a kiss and went back to the door. ‘Believe me, it’ll be safer in here,’ he said.

  Meggie looked at him in concern. ‘Where are you going? You have to get some sleep too.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not tired.’ His face gave away his lie. ‘Go to sleep now, all right?’ Then he went out again.

  Elinor pushed the broken shingles aside with her foot. ‘Come on,’ she said, taking off her jacket and spreading it on the floor. ‘Let’s try to make ourselves comfortable together. Your father’s right, we must just imagine we’re somewhere else. Why are adventures so much more fun when you read about them?’ she murmured, stretching out on the floor.

  Cautiously, Meggie lay down beside her. ‘At least it isn’t raining,’ remarked Elinor, looking at the collapsed roof. ‘And we have the stars above us, even if they’re fading. Perhaps I ought to have a few holes knocked in my own roof at home.’ With an impatient nod, she told Meggie to lay her head on her arm. ‘In case any spiders try crawling into your ears while you’re asleep,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘Oh Lord,’ Meggie heard her add in a murmur, ‘I’ll have to buy a new pair of feet, I really will. There’s no hope for these.’ With that she was asleep.

  But Meggie lay with her eyes wide open, listening to the sounds outside. She heard Mo talking quietly to Dustfinger, but she couldn’t make out the words. Once she thought she heard Basta’s name. The boy Farid had stayed outside too, but he made no sound.

  Elinor began snoring after only a few minutes, but hard as Meggie tried she couldn’t get to sleep, so she got up quietly and slipped outside. Mo was awake, sitting with his back against a tree, watching the morning light drive the night from the sky above the surrounding hills. Dustfinger was sitting a little further off. He raised his head only briefly when Meggie came out of the hut. Was he thinking of the fairies and the brownies? Farid lay beside him, curled up like a dog, and Gwin was sitting at his feet eating something – Meggie quickly turned her head away.

  Dawn was breaking over the hills, casting light on summit after summit. Meggie saw houses in the distance, scattered like toys on the green slopes. The sea must lie somewhere beyond them. She put her head on Mo’s lap and looked up at his face.

  ‘They won’t find us here, will they?’ she asked.

  ‘No, of course not!’ he said, but his face wasn’t half as carefree as his voice. ‘Why aren’t you asleep in there with Elinor?’

  ‘She snores,’ murmured Meggie.

  Mo smiled. Then, frowning, he looked down the hillside to the place where the path lay, hidden by rockroses, gorse and thorns.

  Dustfinger never took his eyes off the path either. The sight of the two men on watch made Meggie feel better, and soon she was sleeping as deeply as Farid – as if the ground outside the tumbledown house were covered with downy feathers instead of thorns.

  When Mo shook her awake, she thought at first it had all been just a bad dream – but his hand was over her mouth. He was holding a finger to his lips in warning. Meggie heard the rustle of grass and the barking of a dog. Mo pulled her to her feet and pushed her and Farid into the shelter of the dark hovel. Elinor was still snoring. She looked like a young girl with the light of dawn on her face, but as soon as Mo had woken her all her weariness, anxiety and fear came rushing back.

  Mo and Dustfinger stationed themselves by the doorway, one to the left and the other to the right, their backs pressed to the wall. Men’s voices broke the quiet of the morning. Meggie thought she could hear the dogs sniffing, and wished she could dissolve into thin air, odourless and invisible air. Farid stood beside her, his eyes wide. Meggie noticed for the first time that they were almost black. She had never seen such dark eyes, and his lashes were as long as a girl’s.

  Elinor was leaning against the wall opposite, biting her lips n
ervously. Dustfinger made a sign to Mo, and before Meggie realised what their plan was they made their way out. The olive trees where they took cover were stunted, with matted branches hanging almost to the ground, as if the weight of their leaves was too much for them. A child could easily have hidden behind them, but did they provide enough shelter for two grown men?

  Meggie peered out of the doorway. Her heart was beating so fast that it almost suffocated her. Outside, the sun was rising higher and higher. Daylight crept into every valley, beneath every tree, and suddenly Meggie wished for the night again. Mo was kneeling down so that his head couldn’t be seen above the tangled branches. Dustfinger was pressed close to a crooked tree trunk, and there, terrifyingly close, twenty paces at most away from the two of them, was Basta. He was making his way up the slope through thistles and knee-high grass.

  ‘They’ll have reached the valley by now!’ Meggie heard a rough voice call, and next moment Flatnose appeared beside Basta. They had brought two vicious-looking dogs with them. Meggie saw the dogs’ broad skulls pushing through the grass, and heard them snuffling.

  ‘What, with two children and that fat woman?’ Basta shook his head and looked round. Farid peered past Meggie – and flinched back as if something had bitten him when he saw the two men.

  ‘Basta?’ Soundlessly, Elinor’s lips formed his name. Meggie nodded, and Elinor went even paler than she was already.

  ‘Damn it, Basta, how much longer are you going to trudge around here?’ Flatnose’s voice echoed a long way in the silence that lay over the hills. ‘The snakes will soon be waking up, and I’m hungry. Let’s just say they fell into the valley with the car. We’ll give it another push and no one will find out! The snakes will probably get them anyway. And if not, then they’ll lose their way, starve, get sunstroke – oh, who cares what happens? But anyway we’ll never see them again.’

  ‘He’s been feeding them cheese!’ Basta furiously hauled the dogs to his side. ‘That bloody little fire-eater has been feeding them cheese to ruin their noses. But nobody would believe me. No wonder they whine with joy every time they see his ugly mug.’

  ‘You beat them too much,’ grunted Flatnose. ‘That’s why they won’t go to any trouble for you. Dogs don’t like being beaten.’

  ‘Nonsense. You have to beat them or they’ll bite you! They like the fire-eater because he’s like them – he whines, he’s sly and he bites.’ One of the dogs lay down in the grass and licked its paws. Angrily, Basta kicked it in the ribs and hauled it to its feet. ‘You can go back to the village if you like!’ he spat at Flatnose. ‘But I’m going to get that fire-eater and cut off all his fingers one by one. Then we’ll see how cleverly he can juggle. I always said he couldn’t be trusted, but the boss thought his little tricks with fire were so entertaining.’

  ‘OK, OK. Everyone knows you can’t stand him.’ Flatnose sounded bored. ‘But he may have nothing to do with the disappearance of that lot. You know he’s always come and gone as he pleased. Maybe he’ll turn up again tomorrow knowing nothing about it.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ growled Basta. He walked on. Every step brought him closer to the trees behind which Mo and Dustfinger were hiding. ‘And