“That’s not difficult.” Dustfinger let his eyes wander to Fenoglio. So they called him Inkweaver here. How contented he looked, the man who had written Dustfinger’s death. A knife in the back, plunged so deep that it found his heart, that was what Fenoglio had planned for him. Dustfinger instinctively reached to touch the spot between his shoulder blades. Yes, he had read them already, after all, Fenoglio’s deadly words, one night in the other world when he had been lying awake, trying in vain to conjure up Roxane’s face in his memory. You can’t go back! He had kept hearing Meggie’s voice saying those words. ” One of Capricorn’s men is waiting for you in the book.
They want to kill Gwin, and you try to help him, so they kill you instead. ” He had taken the book out of his backpack with trembling fingers, had opened it and searched the pages for his death.
And then he’d read what it said there in black and white, over and over again. After that he had decided to leave Gwin behind if he should ever come back here. . Dustfinger stroked Jink’s bushy tail. No, perhaps it had not been a good idea to catch another marten.
“What’s the matter? You look as if the hangman had given you the nod all of a sudden.” The Black Prince put an arm around his shoulders, while his bear sniffed curiously at Dustfinger’s backpack. “The boy must have told you how we picked him up in the forest? He was in a state of great agitation, said he was here to warn you. And when he said of whom, many of my men’s hands went to their knives.”
Basta. Dustfinger ran a finger over his scarred cheek. “Yes, he’s probably back, too.” “With his master?”
“No, Capricorn’s dead. I saw him die myself.”
The Black Prince put his hand in his bear’s mouth and tickled its tongue. “Well, that’s good news.
And there wouldn’t be much for him to come back to, just a few charred walls. Only old Nettle sometimes goes there. She swears you can’t find better yarrow anywhere than in the fire-raisers’ old fortress.”
Dustfinger saw Fenoglio glancing his way. Meggie was looking in the same direction, too. He quickly turned his back on them.
“We have a camp near there now – you’ll remember the old brownies’ caves,” the Prince went on, lowering his voice. “Since Cosimo smoked out the fire-raisers those caves have made a good shelter again. Only the strolling players know about them. The old and frail, cripples, women tired of living on the road with their children – they can all stay and rest there for a while. I tell you what, the Secret Camp would be a good place for you to tell me your story! The one you say is so hard to believe. I’ve often been there for the bear’s sake. He gets grouchy when he spends too long between city walls. Roxane can tell you how to find the place; she knows her way around the forest almost as well as you by now.”
“I know the old brownie caves,” said Dustfinger. He had hidden from Capricorn’s men there many times, but he wasn’t sure that he really wanted to tell the Prince about the last ten years.
“Six torches!” Farid was beside him again, wiping soot off his fingers on his trousers. “I juggled with six torches and I didn’t drop one. I think she liked it.”
Dustfinger suppressed a smile. “Very likely.” Two of the strolling players had drawn the Prince aside. Dustfinger wasn’t sure whether he knew them, but he turned his back, to be on the safe side.
“Did you know everyone’s talking about you?” Farid’s eyes were round as coins with excitement.
“They’re all saying you’re back. And I think some of them have recognized you.”
“Oh, have they?” Dustfinger looked uneasily around. His daughter was still standing behind the little prince’s chair. He hadn’t told Farid about her. It was bad enough having the boy jealous of Roxane.
“They say there was never a fire-eater to match you! The other one there, Sootbird they call him”