“You ungrateful creature!” thundered Fenoglio. “When I go down to the river for it specially! And last time the river-nymphs thought it would be fun to pull me in. I nearly drowned, all because of you.”
The glass man seemed unimpressed. Still looking injured, he sat down beside the jug full of quills, closed his eyes, and pretended to be asleep.
“Two of them have already died on me that way!” Fenoglio whispered to Meggie. “They just can’t resist our food. Stupid creatures.”
But Meggie was only half listening. She sat down on the bed with the parchment and read through it all again, word by word. Rain came in through the window, as if to remind her of another night – the night when she first heard of Fenoglio’s book and saw Dustfinger standing outside in the rain. Dustfinger had looked happy in the castle courtyard. Fenoglio was happy, too, and Farid, and Minerva and her children. And it must stay that way. I’ll read this for all of them, thought Meggie. For the strolling players, so that the Adderhead won’t hang them just for singing a song, for the peasants in the marketplace whose vegetables were trampled by those horses. What about Her Ugliness? Would it make Violante happy to have a husband again?
Would she notice that this was a different Cosimo? But the words would come too late for the Prince of Sighs. He would never hear of his son’s return.
“Well, say something!” Fenoglio’s voice sounded unsure of itself. “Don’t you like it?”
“Oh yes. Yes, I do. It’s lovely.”
Relief spread over his face. “Then what are you waiting for?” “About the mark on her face – oh, I don’t know – it sounds like magic, like an inkspell.”
“Oh, come on. I think it’s romantic, and that never hurts.”
“If you say so. It’s your story.” Meggie shrugged her shoulders. “But there’s one more thing.
Who’s going to disappear when he arrives?”
Fenoglio went pale. “Heavens, I’d entirely forgotten about that. Rosenquartz, go and hide in your nest!” he told the glass man. “Luckily, the fairies are out.”
“That’s no use,” said Meggie quietly, as the glass man made his way up to the empty fairies’ nest, where he used to sulk and sometimes sleep. “Hiding is no use at all.”
The sound of a horse’s hooves rose to them from the street outside. One of the men-at-arms was riding by. Obviously, the Piper wasn’t going to let the people of Ombra forget who their new master truly was, even in their sleep.
“Well, there’s a sign for us!” Fenoglio whispered to Meggie. “If that man disappears, he’s no loss.
Anyway, how do you know anyone will disappear at all? I think it happens only if you read someone here who leaves a gap to be filled in his own story. But our new Cosimo has no story of his own! He was born here, today, from these words!”
Well, he might be right.
The clatter of the hooves mingled with the sound of Meggie’s voice. ” It was a quiet night in Ombra, very quiet, ” she read. ” The wounds inflicted by the men-at-arms had not yet healed, and many never would. ” And suddenly she forgot about the fear she had felt in the morning and again thought only of her anger. She had felt so angry with men who encased themselves in armor and kicked women and children in the back with their iron shoes. The anger made her voice strong and full, ready to awaken new life. ” Doors and shutters were bolted, and behind them the children cried, as quietly as if fear itself kept their mouths shut, while their parents peered out into the night, fearfully wondering how dark the future would be under their new master. But suddenly, hoof-beats echoed down the alley where the cobblers and saddlers lived. ” How easily the words came now! They flowed over Meggie’s tongue as if they had been just waiting to be read aloud, to be brought to life this very night. ” People hurried to their windows. They looked out in fear, expecting to see one of the men-at-arms or even the Piper himself with his silver nose, but someone else came riding up to the castle, and the sight of him, familiar as it was, yet turned their faces pale. For the new arrival who came riding through sleepless Ombra bore the face of their dead prince, Cosimo the Fair, who had been resting in his crypt so long. ”
His likeness rode down the street on a white horse, and he was as handsome as all the songs about the fair Cosimo said. He rode through the castle gateway with the Adderhead’s banner flying above it, reined in his horse in the quiet nocturnal courtyard, and for all who saw him there in the moonlight, sitting erect on his white horse, it was as if Cosimo had never been away.
Then all the weeping was over, the weeping and the fear. The people of Ombra rejoiced, and others came from the most remote villages to see the man who bore a dead prince’s face, and they whispered, ‘Cosimo is back. Cosimo the Fair has come back to take his father’s place and protect Ombra from the Adderhead.’
“And so it was. The savior of the city ascended the throne, and the birthmark on Her Ugliness’s face faded. Cosimo the Fair had his father’s court poet summoned and asked his advice, for he had been told how wise a man he was, and now a great new age began.”
Meggie lowered the parchment. A great new age ..
Fenoglio hurried to the window. Meggie had heard the sound, too – hoof beats – but she did not rise to her feet.
“That must be him!” whispered Fenoglio. “He’s coming, oh, Meggie, he’s coming! Listen!”
But Meggie still sat there looking at the written words on her lap. It seemed to her that they were breathing. Paper made flesh, ink made blood .. Suddenly she was tired, so tired that it seemed much too far to walk to the window. She felt like a child who had climbed down into the cellar all alone and now felt scared. If only Mo were here. .
“Any moment now! He’ll be riding by any moment now!” Fenoglio leaned so far out of the window that he was in danger of falling headfirst into the alley. At least he was still here – he hadn’t disappeared the way he did when she summoned the Shadow. But where else would he have gone? Meggie wondered. There seemed to be only one story left, this story, Fenoglio’s story. And it seemed to have no beginning and no end.
“Come on, Meggie!” In great excitement, he beckoned her over. “You read it wonderfully, oh yes, wonderfully well! But I suppose you know that. Some of the phrases weren’t among the best I’ve ever written, it was a little clumsy here and there, a little more dramatic color wouldn’t have hurt, but never mind, it worked! It definitely worked!”
There was a knock.
A knock on the door. Rosenquartz peered out of his nest, his face anxious, and Fenoglio turned, both alarmed and annoyed. “Meggie?” whispered a voice. “Are you there, Meggie?”
It was Farid.
“What does he want here?” Fenoglio uttered a less than delicate curse. “Send him away. We really can’t do with having him around just now. Oh – oh, look! Here he comes! Meggie, you’re an enchantress!”
The hoof-beats were louder now. But Meggie did not go to the window; she walked to the door instead. Farid was standing outside, his face downcast. He looked almost as if he’d been crying.
“It’s Gwin, Meggie .. Gwin’s back,” he stammered. “I don’t know how he found me! I even threw stones to make him go away.”
