Every day it was getting more difficult to keep her wings still when the magpie wanted to spread them, and Mortola had to shake her bird's head harder and harder to make it think human thoughts. Sometimes she couldn't even remember for sure what human thoughts were like.
Now the feathers would shoot out through her skin even without the seeds. She had already swallowed too many, and the poison was wandering through her body and sowing the bird in her blood. Never mind. You'll find a way to drive it out, Mortola, she thought. But first the bookbinder must be dead and her son alive again! His face… what did it look like? She could hardly remember.
The Black Prince was still arguing with Snapper, as he did so often these days. Eat it! Start eating, you fool! Two other robbers came along – the pockmarked actor who was always at the Prince's side, and Gecko, who saw the world as Snapper did. One of the women came over to them, brought the actor a bowl of soup, too, and pointed to the one she had put in front of the Prince.
That's right, listen to her! Sit down! Eat! Mortola thrust her head forward. She felt how her human body wanted to shake off the feathers, how it longed to spread and stretch. Yesterday a couple of children had almost caught her shape-shifting. Silly, noisy nuisances. She'd never liked children – except her own son, and she had never let even him see that she loved him. Love ruined you. It made you soft, gullible…
There. He was eating. At last. Yes, enjoy it, Prince! The bear trotted up to his master and snuffled at the bowl. Get out, you clumsy great brute. Let him eat it. Four berries. Five would have been better, but with a little luck four would do the trick. It was useful that the trees they grew on were far from rare. Two of them stood only a little way below the cave. Resa was always warning the children not to try their berries.
The Black Prince put the bowl to his mouth and drank the dregs. Good. He'd soon feel Death twisting his guts. Mortola uttered a triumphant croak and spread her wings. Gecko raised his hand with the bread crumbs again as she flew away over his head. Idiot. They were all stupid, very, very stupid. But that was just as well.
The women began ladling soup out for the children, and Silvertongue's daughter stood far away at the back of the long line. There'd be enough time to pick a few berries for her, too. More than enough time.
44. THE HAND OF DEATH
Death is great.
Laugh as we may,
we are its own.
In life's bright day
it weeps its way
into our hearts.
Rainer Maria Rilke, "Closing Piece"
Minerva made good soup. Meggie had often eaten it when she was staying with Fenoglio, and the aroma rising from the steaming bowls was so delicious that for a moment the huge, chilly cave really seemed like home. "Please, Meggie, do eat something!" Resa had said. "I don't have an appetite any more than you do, but it's not going to help your father if we starve to death because we're so worried about him."
No, she supposed not. When she'd asked Farid to call up the fiery pictures for her again, the flames had shown nothing. "You can't force them!" Farid had muttered in annoyance as he put the ashes back into his bag. "The flames like to play, so you have to pretend you don't really want anything from them. But how am
I supposed to do that when you're staring at them as if it were a matter of life and death?"
Well, what else was it? Even the Black Prince was anxious about Mo. He had decided to follow Violante to the Castle in the Lake with a few men. He was going to set off tomorrow, but he wouldn't take Resa and Meggie with him. "Of course not," Meggie's mother had whispered bitterly. "This world belongs to men."
Meggie picked up the wooden spoon that Doria had carved for her (it was a very good spoon) and listlessly stirred the soup. Jasper peered at it longingly. Of course. Glass men loved human food, although it wasn't good for them. Jasper was spending more and more time with Doria, even though Farid was back. Meggie wasn't surprised. Farid had been far from talkative since Dustfinger sent him away again. Most of the time he walked restlessly in the surrounding hills or tried to call up pictures in the fire. So far Roxane had looked into the flames only once. "Thank you," she had said to Farid afterward, her voice cool. "But I'd rather go on listening to my heart. It usually tells me whether he's all right."
"There, isn't that just what I told Dustfinger?" Farid had said, annoyed. "So why did he send me to her? She doesn't need me. She'd bewitch me away if she could."
Doria offered Jasper his spoon.
"Don't give him any!" said Meggie. "He can't digest it! Ask him." She was very fond of Jasper. He was so much friendlier than Rosenquartz, who liked nothing better than losing his temper and quarreling with Fenoglio.
"She's right," muttered Jasper gloomily, but his sharp little nose sniffed, as if at least to fill his glass body with the forbidden aroma. The children sitting around Meggie giggled. They all liked the glass man, and Doria often had to rescue him from their small hands. They liked the marten, too, but Jink snapped and spat when the fuss the children made over him got to be too much. The glass man, however, had little defense against human fingers.
The soup really did smell good. Meggie dipped her spoon into her bowl – and jumped when the magpie that had flown to Gecko fluttered over to her own shoulder. By now the bird seemed to belong in the cave, like Jink and the bear, but Resa disliked it.
"Get away!" she said, shooing the magpie off Meggie's shoulder. The bird croaked angrily and jabbed at Resa with its beak. Meggie was so startled that she spilled the hot soup over her hands.
"Sorry." Resa mopped the liquid off Meggie's fingers with the hem of her dress. "I can't stand that bird. I expect it's because it reminds me of Mortola."
The Magpie – of course. It was a long time since Meggie had thought about Capricorn's mother, but then she hadn't been there when Mortola had shot Mo. Resa had.
"It's only a bird," said Meggie, her thoughts already far away again, following her father. She had found very little about the Castle in the Lake in Fenoglio's book. Deep in the mountains, in the middle of a lake… an endless bridge over black water. Was Mo riding over that bridge now? Suppose she and Resa simply followed the Black Prince? Do you hear, Meggie? Whatever happens, stay with the robbers! Promise me!
Resa pointed to the bowl in her lap. "Do please eat it, Meggie!"
But Meggie turned to Roxane, who was quickly making her way past the children as they sat there eating. Her beautiful face was paler than Meggie had seen it since Dustfinger's return. Resa stood up, looking anxious.
"What's happened?" She took Roxane's arm. "Is there any news? Has anything been heard of Mo? You must tell me!"
But Roxane shook her head. "The Prince…" The anxiety in her voice was plainly audible. "He's not well, and I don't know what it is. He has terrible stomach cramps. I have a few roots here that may help him."
She moved on, but Resa held her back again. "Stomach cramps? Where is he?"
Meggie heard the bear's howl from far away. The Strong Man was looking like a desperate child as they made their way toward him. Battista was there, too, with Woodenfoot and Elfbane. The Black Prince lay on the ground. Minerva was kneeling beside him, trying to get some liquid into his mouth, but he writhed in pain, pressed his hands to his body and struggled for breath. Sweat stood out on his forehead.