Cornelia Funke - Inkheart

The Magpie sat, curiously rigid, in a green velvet armchair directly below her son's portrait. She looked unaccustomed to sitting down – like a constantly busy woman who resented having to stop, but whose body forced her to rest, Meggie saw that the old woman's legs were swollen above her ankles. They bulged formlessly below her bony knees. Noticing her glance, the Magpie pulled her skirt well down over those knees.

"Have you told her what she's here for?" She found standing up difficult. Meggie watched her support herself with one hand on a little table, her lips pressed together. Basta seemed to enjoy her frailty; a smile played around his mouth until the Magpie looked at him, wiping it away with a single icy glance. Impatiently, she beckoned Meggie over. Basta prodded her in the back when she didn't move.

"Come here. I want to show you something. " With slow but firm steps, the Magpie walked over to a chest of drawers that looked much too heavy for its gracefully curved legs. Two lamps stood on it, their shades patterned with flowery tendrils. Between them was a wooden casket, decorated all the way around with a pattern of tiny holes. When the Magpie opened its lid Meggie flinched back. Two snakes, thin as lizards and not much longer than Meggie's lower arm, lay in the casket.

"I always keep my room nice and warm so this pair don't get too sleepy, " explained the Magpie, opening the top drawer of the chest and taking out a glove. It was made of stout black leather and was so stiff she had difficulty forcing her gnarled hand into it. "Your friend Dustfinger played a nasty trick on poor Resa when he asked her to look for that book," she continued, reaching into the box and grasping one of the snakes firmly behind its flat head.

"Come here!" she ordered Basta and held the wriggling snake out to him. Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

"As you see, Basta doesn't care for my snakes!" said the Magpie with a smile. "He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn't like anything but his knife. He also believes that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense. " Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper's tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.

"Well, don't you think this is a good hiding place?" asked the Magpie, reaching into the casket yet again. This time she brought out a book. Meggie would have known what book it was even if she hadn't recognized the colored jacket. "I've often kept valuables in this casket, " continued the Magpie. "No one knows about it and its contents apart from Basta and Capricorn. Poor Resa searched high and low for this book – she's a brave creature – but she didn't get as far as my casket. As it happens, she likes snakes. I've never met anyone who feels less fear of them than Resa, although she's been bitten now and then, isn't that so, Basta?" The Magpie took off her glove and looked scornfully at him. "Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn't work with Resa. How did it go exactly – didn't she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?"

Basta did not reply. The snakes were still twisting and turning in his hands. One of them had wound its tail around his arm.

"Put them back in the casket, " the Magpie ordered. "But be careful not to hurt them. " Then she returned to her arm chair with the book. "Sit down!" she said, pointing to the foot stool beside her.

Meggie obeyed. Surreptitiously, she looked around her. Mortola's room reminded her of a fairy-tale treasure chest filled to the brim. But there was too much of everything – too many golden candlesticks, too many lamps, rugs, pictures, vases, china ornaments, silk flowers, gilded bells.

The Magpie looked at her smugly. In her plain black dress she sat there like a cuckoo that has forced its way into another bird's nest. "A fine room for a domestic servant, don't you think?" she said with satisfaction. "Capricorn knows how to value me."

"But he still makes you live in the cellar!" replied Meggie. "Even though you're his mother. " If only words could be swallowed – caught and slipped quickly back between your lips.

The Magpie looked at her with such hatred that Meggie already felt the woman's bony fingers on her throat. But Mortola just sat there, her birdlike eyes looking fixedly at Meggie. "Who told you that? The old sorcerer?"

Meggie clamped her lips together and looked at Basta. He probably hadn't heard a word; he was just putting the second snake back in the casket. Did he know Capricorn's little secret? Before she could wonder about that anymore Mortola put the book on her lap.

"A word about this to anyone here, or indeed anywhere else, " hissed the Magpie, "and I personally will prepare your next meal. A little extract of monkshood, a few shoots of yew or perhaps a couple of hemlock seeds in the sauce-how do you fancy that? I can assure you you'd find it a hard meal to digest. Now, start reading."

Meggie stared at the book on her lap. When Capricorn held it up in the church she hadn't been able to make out the picture on the jacket. Now she had a chance to see it at close range. There was a landscape in the background that looked like a slightly different version of the hills surrounding Capricorn's village. But the foreground showed a heart, a black heart surrounded by red flames.

"Go on, open it!" snapped the Magpie.

Meggie obeyed. She opened the book at the page beginning with the N and the horned marten perched on it. How long ago was it since she had stood in Elinor's library looking at the same page? An eternity, a whole lifetime?

"Wrong page. Go on, " the Magpie told her. "Find the page with the corner turned down. "

Wordlessly, Meggie obeyed. There was no picture on that page or the one opposite it. Without thinking she smoothed out the corner with her thumbnail. Mo hated to see dog-eared pages.

"What's the idea? Do you want to make it difficult for me to find the place again?" hissed the Magpie. "Begin with the second paragraph, but mind you don't read aloud. I don't want to find the Shadow here in my room. "

"How far should I go? I mean, how far am I to read this evening?"

"How should I know?" The Magpie leaned over and rubbed her left leg. "How long does it usually take you to read your fairies and tin soldiers and so forth out of their stories?"

Meggie lowered her head. Poor Tinker Bell. "I can't say, " she murmured. "It depends. Sometimes it happens soon, sometimes not until after many pages, or not at all."

"Well, read the whole chapter, that ought to be enough! And you can leave out the 'not at all' business. " The Magpie rubbed her other leg. They were both wrapped in bandages that could be seen through the dark stockings she wore. "What are you staring at?" she snapped at Meggie. "Can you read me something out of a book to do my legs good? Do you know a story with a cure for old age and death in it, little witch that you are?"

"No, " whispered Meggie.

"Then don't gawp so stupidly, look at the book. Mind you notice every word. I don't want to hear you stumble once tonight, no stammering, no mispronunciations, understood? This time Capricorn is to get exactly what he wants. I will see to that. "

Meggie let her eyes wander over the letters. She wasn't taking in a word of what she read; she could think of nothing but Mo and the shots fired in the night. But she pretended to be reading, on and on, while Mortola never took her eyes off her. Finally, she raised her head and closed the book. "Finished, " she said.

"What, already?" The Magpie looked at her suspiciously.

Meggie did not reply. She glared at Basta. He was leaning on Mortola's armchair looking bored. "I'm not going to read that aloud this evening, " she said. "You shot my father last night. Basta told me. I won't read a word. "