"So here you are. Any idea how long I've been looking for you?
It couldn't be true. She had been so sure she would never hear that voice again.
"Mortimer!"
"Sorry, but I knew you'd scream! Come on!" Mortimer took his hand away from her mouth and gestured to her to follow him. She wasn't sure which she wanted to do most, fling her arms around his neck or hit him hard enough to hurt.
Only when the houses of Capricorn's village were almost out of sight behind the trees did he stop. "Why didn't you stay at the camp? Staggering around here in the dark – have you any idea how dangerous it is?"
This was too much. He had walked so fast Elinor was still gasping for breath. "Dangerous?" In her fury, she found it difficult to keep her voice down. "You're a fine one to talk about danger! I thought you were both dead! I thought they'd stabbed you or shot you or…"
He rubbed a weary hand over his face. "Some of them are pretty poor shots, " he said. "Luckily. "
His calm tone made Elinor want to shake him. "Really? And what about the boy?"
"He's all right, too, except for a scratch on his forehead. When they started firing the marten ran away and Farid went after him. That's when a ricochet caught him. I've left him up at the camp."
"The marten? Is that all you can think about, that vicious, stinking animal? Tonight has aged me by ten years!" Elinor's voice was rising again, and she forced herself to lower it. "I put on this horrible dress, " she hissed. " And I could see you in my mind's eye, lots of blood and terrible wounds… Oh, must you look at me like that?" she snapped. "It's a wonder you're not both dead. I should never have listened to you. We should have gone to the police. This time they must believe us, they -"
"It was bad luck, Elinor, that's all, " Mo interrupted.
"Honestly. It just happened to be Cockerell on guard outside the house. The others wouldn't have recognized me."
"And what about tomorrow? Perhaps it'll be Basta or Flatnose then. How's it going to help your daughter if you're dead?"
Mo turned his back to her. "But I'm not dead, Elinor, " he said evenly. "And I'm going to get Meggie out of there before she has to play the leading role at an execution."
When they reached their camp Farid was asleep. The bloodstained bandage Mortimer had tied around his head looked almost like the turban he had been wearing when he first appeared among the columns of Capricorn's church.
"It looks worse than it is, " Mo whispered. "But if I hadn't held him back he'd have chased halfway around the village after that marten. And if they hadn't caught us I expect he'd have slipped into the church, too, to see how Dustfinger was doing. "
Elinor only nodded and wrapped her blanket around her. It was a mild night; anywhere else it could have been called peaceful.
"How did you shake them off?" she asked.
Mortimer sat down beside the boy. Only now did Elinor see that he was carrying the shotgun that Farid had stolen for him. He took it off his shoulder and put it down in the grass beside him. "They didn't follow us for long, " he said. "Why bother? They know we'll be back. All they have to do is wait."
And this time Elinor would be with them, she promised herself. She never again wanted to feel as utterly deserted as she had this night. "What are you planning to do next?" she asked.
"Farid's idea was to start a fire. I thought that would be too dangerous, but we're running short of time. "
"Fire?" Elinor felt as if the word would burn her tongue. Ever since she had found the ashes of her books, the mere sight of a matchstick had caused her to panic.
"Dustfinger's taught the boy something about handling fire, and anyway, as we know, even the biggest fool can start one. If we were to send Capricorn's house up in flames -"
"Are you crazy? Suppose it spreads to the hills?"
Mo bowed his head and stroked his hand over the barrel of the gun. "I know, " he said, "but I can't see any other way. The fire will create a diversion, Capricorn's men will be kept busy putting it out, and in all the confusion I'll try to get through to Meggie while Farid releases Dustfinger. "
"You're mad!" This time Elinor couldn't help her voice rising. Farid muttered something in his sleep, put his hand nervously to the bandage around his head, then turned over.
Mo straightened the boy's blanket and leaned back against the tree trunk. "That's our plan, all the same, Elinor, " he said. "Believe me, I've been racking my brains till I thought I'd go crazy. But there's no other way. And if none of that is any use I'll set fire to his damn church as well. I'll melt down his gold and reduce his whole damned village to dust and ashes, but I'll have my daughter back."
Elinor had no answer to that. She lay down and pretended to be asleep even though she couldn't sleep a wink. When day dawned, she persuaded Mortimer to get a little rest himself while she kept watch. Before long he was fast asleep. As soon as his breath sounded peaceful and regular, Elinor took off the stupid dress, got into her own clothes, combed her tousled hair, and wrote him a note. Gone to get help. Back around mid day. Please don't do anything until then. Elinor.
She put the note into his half-opened hand, so that he would see it as soon as he woke up. As she tiptoed past the boy she saw that the marten was back. He was curled up beside Farid, licking his paws. His black eyes stared at Elinor as she bent over the boy to adjust his bandage. Uncanny little beast, she could never take to him, but Farid loved him like a dog. Sighing, she straightened up. "Look after them both, will you?" she whispered, then set off. The car was still where she had hidden it under the trees. It was a good hiding place; the branches hung so low she missed the car herself at first. The engine caught immediately. Elinor listened anxiously to the sounds of the morning for a moment, but there was nothing to be heard apart from the birds, greeting the day as exuberantly as if it were their last.
The nearest village, the last village through which she and Mortimer had driven, was scarcely a half hour's drive away. There was sure to be a police station there.
48. THE MAGPIE
But they woke him with words, their cruel, bright weapons.
T. H. White, The Book of Merlin
It was still quite early when Meggie heard Basta's voice out in the corridor. She hadn't touched the breakfast one of the maids had brought them. When she had asked what had happened last night, what the shots meant, the girl had just stared at her, terrified, shook her head, and scurried out of the door. She probably thought Meggie was a witch.
Fenoglio hadn't eaten any breakfast either. He was writing. He wrote and wrote without stopping, filling sheet after sheet of paper, tearing up what he'd written, beginning again, put ting one sheet aside and starting another, frowning, crumpling up the paper – and starting once more. Hours and hours passed like this, until there were only three sheets of paper he hadn't torn up. Just three. At the sound of Basta's voice he hastily hid them under his mattress, kicking the crumpled pieces of paper under the bed with his foot. "Quick, Meggie! Help me get them under the bed!" he whispered. "He mustn't find any – not a single one." Meggie obeyed, but all she could think about was why Basta was here. Was he going to tell her something? Did he want to see her face when he told her not to expect Mo anymore?
Fenoglio had sat down at the table again in front of a blank sheet of paper and was rapidly scribbling a few words on it when the door opened.
Meggie held her breath as if that would hold back the words that were about to come out of Basta's mouth and stab her in the heart. Fenoglio put down his pen and went to stand beside her. "What is it?" he asked.