Cornelia Funke - Inkheart

Elinor's nightdress landed on the carpet, and Meggie saw a pair of tights being put on over her bare legs.

"We have to go to the police again, " said Meggie.

"What for?" Elinor threw a sweater over the closet door. 'What are you going to tell them? Didn't you notice the way those two policemen looked at us last night?" Elinor imitated them: "'Oh yes, what was that again, Signora Loredan? Someone broke into your house after you'd been kind enough to switch off the burglar alarm? And then this amazingly cunning burglar stole just one book, although there are books worth mil lions in your library, and they took this girl's father away after he'd offered to go with them in any case? Yes, very interesting. And it seems that these men were working for a man called Capricorn. Doesn't that mean goat or something?' Heavens above, child!" Elinor emerged from behind the closet door. She was wearing an unattractive checked skirt and a caramel-colored sweater that made her look as pale as dough. "Everyone living around this lake thinks I'm crazy, and if we go back to the police with this story, then the news that Elinor Loredan has finally flipped will be all over the place. Which just goes to show that a passion for books is extremely unhealthy."

"You dress like an old granny, " said Meggie.

Elinor looked down at herself. "Thank you very much, " she said, "but comments on my appearance are uncalled for. Anyway, I could be your granny. With a little stretch of the imagination."

"Have you ever been married?"

"No, why would I want to? And could you now kindly stop making personal remarks? Hasn't your father ever taught you that it's bad manners?"

Meggie did not reply. She wasn't sure herself why she had asked the question. "This book is very valuable, isn't it?" she asked.

"What, Inkheart ?" Elinor took it from Meggie's hand, stroked the binding, and then gave it back. "I think so. Although you won't find a single copy in any of the catalogs or lists of valuable books. But I'm sure that many collectors would offer your father a great deal of money if word got around that he has what may be the only copy. Actually, I found out quite a lot about it, and I believe it's not just a rare book but a good one, too. I can't give an opinion on that. I scarcely managed a dozen pages last night. When the first fairy appeared I fell asleep. I never was particularly keen on stories full of fairies and dwarves and all that stuff."

Elinor went around behind the closet door again, obviously to look at herself in a mirror. Meggie's comment on her clothes seemed to be bothering her after all. "Yes, I think it is very valuable," she repeated thoughtfully. "Although it's almost forgotten now. Hardly anyone seems to remember what it's about, hardly anyone seems to have read it. You can't even find it in libraries. But now and then these strange stories about it do crop up: They say it's been forgotten only because all the copies that still existed were stolen. I expect that's nonsense. Although it's not just plants and animals that die out, so do books. Quite often, I'm sorry to say. I'm sure you could fill a hundred houses like this one to the roof with all the books that have disappeared forever." Elinor closed the closet door again and pinned up her hair with clumsy fingers. "As far as I know the author's still alive, but obviously he's never done anything about getting his book reprinted – which strikes me as odd. 1 mean, you write a story so that people will read it, don't you? Well, perhaps he doesn't like his own story anymore, or perhaps it just sold so badly that no publisher was willing to bring it out again. How would I know?"

"All the same, I don't think they stole it just because it's valuable, " muttered Meggie.

"You don't?" Elinor laughed out loud. "My word, you really are your father's daughter! Mortimer could never imagine people doing something bad for money because money has never meant much to him. Do you have any idea what a book can be worth?"

Meggie looked at her crossly. "Yes, I do. But I still don't think that's the reason."

"I do. And Sherlock Holmes would think so, too. Have you ever read those books, by the way? Wonderful stuff. Especially on rainy days. " Elinor slipped on her shoes. She had strangely small feet for such a sturdily built woman.

"Perhaps there's some kind of secret in it, " murmured Meggie, thoughtfully caressing the close-printed pages.

"You mean something like invisible messages written in lemon juice or a map hidden in one of the pictures showing where to find treasure?" Elinor sounded so sarcastic that Meggie felt like wringing her short neck.

"Why not?" Meggie closed the book again and put it firmly under her arm. "Why else would they take Mo, too? The book would have been enough."

Elinor shrugged her shoulders.

Of course she can't admit she never thought of that, Meggie told herself scornfully. She always has to be right!

Elinor looked at Meggie as if she had guessed her thoughts. "Listen, I tell you what, why don't you read it?" she said. "You really might find something that you don't think belongs in the story. A few extra words here, a couple of unnecessary letters there – and there's your secret message. The signpost pointing to the treasure. Who knows how long it will be before your father comes back? You'll have to do something to pass the time here. "

Before Meggie could answer that one, Elinor bent to pick up a piece of paper lying on the carpet beside her bed. It was

Meggie's good-bye note. She must have dropped it when she saw the book in Elinor's arms.

"What on earth's this?" asked Elinor, when she had read it, frowning. "You were planning to go and look for your father? Where, for heaven's sake? You're even more foolish than I thought. "

Meggie pressed Inkheart close to her. "Who else is going to look for him?" she said. Her lips began to tremble, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

"Well then, we'll just have to go and look for him together!" replied Elinor, sounding annoyed. "But first let's give him a chance to come back. Do you think he'll be pleased to get back here only to find you've disappeared, gone looking for him in the big, wide world?"

Meggie shook her head. Elinor's carpet was swimming before her eyes. A tear ran down her nose.

"OK, that's all settled, then, " growled Elinor, offering Meggie a cotton handkerchief. "Blow your nose and then we'll have breakfast."

She wouldn't let Meggie out of the house before she had eaten a roll and swallowed a glass of milk. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, " she announced, buttering her own third slice of bread. "And what's more, when your father gets back I don't want you telling him I've been starving you. Like the wicked stepmother in the fairy tale, you know. "

An answer sprang to the tip of Meggie's tongue, but she swallowed it along with the last of her roll and took the book outside.

Meggie sat on the bench behind the house. Dustfinger's burnt-out torches were still stuck in the ground beside it. She didn't usually hesitate so long before opening a book, but she was afraid of what was waiting for her inside this one. That was a brand-new feeling. She had never before been afraid of what a book would tell her. Far from it. Usually, she was so eager to let it lead her into an undiscovered world, one she had never been to before, that she often started to read at the most unsuitable moments. Both she and Mo often read at breakfast and, as a result, he had more than once taken her to school late. And she used to read under the desk at school, too, and late at night in bed until Mo pulled back the covers and threatened to take all the books out of her room so that she'd get enough sleep for once. Of course he would never have done such a thing, and he knew she knew he wouldn't, but for a few days after such a threat she would put her book under her pillow around nine in the evening and let it go on whispering to her in her dreams, so that Mo could feel he was being a really good father.