Page 5 (1/1)

Oss looked inquiringly at Orpheus, his eyes asking permission to seize Farid and beat hinored him "Ah, so we’re back to that subject!" he said, barely able to control his voice "The ahter of an equally fabulous father who answers to the na out in the forest with a band of ver about hilasses and looked up at the sky, as if co to the powers above of Mo’s unearned falasses had earned him: Four-Eyes It hispered with fear and horror in Olasses were regarded as evidence that all the lies he told about his origins were the plain truth: He came from beyond the sea, he said, from a distant land ruled by princes who all had two sets of eyes, which allowed thehts He clai of that country, born out of wedlock, and said he’d had to flee after his own brother’s wife had fallen od of books, what a wretched story!"

Fenoglio had cried when Farid told Minerva’s children about it "The slushy notions churning around in that fellow’s le fresh idea in his slimy brain -- all he can do is mess about with other people’s stories!"

But while Fenoglio was spending his days and nights feeling sorry for himself, Orpheus had leisure to put his own stamp on this story -- and he seeinally made it up

"When you love a book so ain, do you knohat it makes you wish?" Orpheus had asked Farid as they stood outside the city gate of Ombra for the first time "No, of course you don’t How could you? I’m sure a book only ht But I’ll tell you the answer all the sah certainly not as a poor court poet I’h even there he cuts a sorry figure!"

Orpheus had set to work the third night after he arrived, in a dirty inn near the city walls He had told Farid to steal him some wine and a candle, and frorubby piece of paper and a pencil -- and the book, the thrice-accursed book, Inkheart His fingers had wandered over the pages collecting words,baubles And Farid had been fool enough to believe that the words Orpheus was so busily writing on his sheet of paper would heal the pain in his heart and bring Dustfinger back

But Orpheus had very different ideas inaloud what he had written and, before dawn the nextup his first treasure froraveyard just beyond the infirht of the coins had made Orpheus as happy as a child But Farid had stared at the graves, tasting his own tears in his mouth

Orpheus had spent the silver on new clothes for hiht a silk one away in search of his son, who had ridden with Cosienta and never come back

Orpheus ranting of unusual wishes--and soon it had reached the Milksop’s ears that this stranger with the thin fair hair and skin as pale as a prince’s could supply bizarre things: spotted brownies, fairies as brightly colored as butterflies, jewelery s, belts set with the scales of river-nyold-and-white piebald horses to draw princely coaches, and other creatures previously known in Oht words for all sorts of things could be found in Fenoglio’s original book of Inbheart -- Orpheus just had to fit thehtly different way Now and then one of his creations would die after taking only a few breaths, or would turn out vicious (the Chunk often had bandaged hands), but that didn’t bother Orpheus Why would he mind if a few dozen fire-elves died of starvation in the forest because they had no wings, or a handful of river-nymphs drifted dead in the water without their scales? He pulled thread after thread out of the fine fabric that Fenoglio had spun and wove patterns of his own, adding thehtly colored patches and growing rich on what his voice could entice out of another man’s words

Curses on him A thousand and one curses This was toofor you any at all!" Farid wiped the moist earth froesture froain

"Dig!" he grunted

"Dig yourself!" Farid was tree he couldn’t have said "Your fine master is just a fraud! He’s already been in jail for his lies, and that’s where he’ll end up again!"

Orpheus narrowed his eyes He didn’t like to have that chapter in his life mentioned at all

"I bet you were the sort who cons money out of old ladies’ pockets And here you are all puffed up like a bullfrog just because your lies are suddenly co true You suck up to the Milksop because he’s the Adderhead’s brother-in-law and think yourself cleverer than anyone else! But what can you really do? Write fairies here who look like they’ve fallen into a vat of dye, chests full of treasure, and jewelry ht you here for, you can’t do that Dustfinger is dead He’s dead He -- is -- still -- dead!"

And now here caain Farid wiped theers while the Chunk stared down at him as blankly as only so said can And how could he? What did Oss know about the words Orpheus was collecting on the siy, what did he know about the book and Orpheus’s voice?

"No one brought e of the pit as if to spit the words into Farid’s face "And I certainly don’t have to listen to any lectures about Dustfinger frootten how he sacrificed himself for you? Why, I knew his na him back, after you so drastically removed him from this storybut how and when I do it will beOr do you think, you brilliant exaht he felt the words slicing through him -- "do you think I’ll be more likely to write if I can’t pay my maids and I have to wash my own clothes?"

Damn him Damn him to hell Farid bowed his head so that Orpheus wouldn’t see his tears The boy who caused his death

"Tell ood silver for their pitiful songs Because I’ve forgotten Dustfinger? No It’s because you still haven’t ed to find out how and where in this world I can speak to the White Wos, I stand beside dying beggars, I bribe the healers in the infirmaries to call me when a patient is at death’s door Of course, it would be much easier if, like your master, you could summon the White Wootten nowhere, right? If at least they’d visit you, as it seems they like to visit those they’ve touched once with death already -- but no! The fresh chicken blood I put outside the door was no use, either, nor were the children’s bones I bought froate told you that was sure to raise a dozen White Women at once!"