Presumably not. Instead, she made out that I forced her father to give me her hand in marriage and took her away from here against her will. Who knows? Perhaps she even believed that story herself in the end."

"You’re lying." Violante was trying very hard to sound composed. "I don’t want to hear any more.

"But hear it you will," said the Adderhead, unmoved. "It’s time you stopped hiding behind pretty stories and heard the facts. Your grandfather was only too inclined to make sure that any suitors of his daughters disappeared. So your mother showed me the tunnel — the one that enabled the Piper to get into the castle entirely unnoticed.

She was madly in love with me at the time, whatever she may have said to you."

"Why are you telling me these lies?" Violante still held her head high, but her voice was trembling. "It wasn’t my mother who showed you the tunnel. It must have been one of your spies. And she never loved you, either."

"Believe what you like. I assume you don’t know very much about love." The Adderhead coughed, and rose with a groan from the chair where he was sitting.

Violante retreated as he stepped into the torchlight.

"Yes, see what your noble robber has done to me," said the Adderhead as he slowly approached Mortimer. It was getting more and more painful for him to walk, Orpheus had seen that often enough on the endless journey to this bleak castle, but the Silver Prince still stood as straight as his daughter.

"But let’s not discuss the past anymore," he said when he was so close to Mortimer that his prisoner had the full benefit of the odor he gave off, "or about the way my daughter may have envisaged this bargain. Convince me that it really doesn’t make sense for me to flay you alive at once — and do the same to your wife and daughter.

Yes, you left them with the Black Prince, but I know about the cave where they’re hiding. I assume that my useless brother-in-law has captured them by now and will be taking them to Ombra." Ah, that really got through to Mortimer. Guess who told the Adderhead about the cave, noble robber, thought Orpheus, smiling broadly when Mortimer looked at him.

"So now The Adderhead drove his gloved fist into his prisoner’s chest just where Mortola had wounded him. "What are the prospects? Can you reverse your own trick? Can you cure the Book you so craftily used to deceive me?"

Mortimer hesitated for only a moment. "Of course," he replied. "If you give it to me."

Very well. Orpheus had to admit that Mortimer’s voice still sounded impressive, even in these dire straits (although his own sounded far, far better). But the Adderhead wasn’t to be beguiled this time. He struck Mortimer in the face so hard that he fell to his knees.

"Do you seriously expect to fool me again?" he snarled. "How stupid do you think I am? No one can cure this Book! Dozens of your fellow craftsmen have died to give me that information. No it’s past saving, which means that my flesh will rot for all eternity, and every day I’ll be tempted to write the three words in it myself and put an end to all this. But I have thought of a better solution and I’ll require your services for it once more after all, which is why I am truly grateful to my daughter for taking such good care of you. Because, of course," he added, glancing at the Piper, "I know what a hot temper my silver-nosed herald has."

The Piper was going to say something, but the Adderhead merely raised his hand impatiently and turned back to Mortimer.

"What kind of solution?" The famous voice sounded hoarse. Was the Bluejay afraid now after all? Orpheus felt like a boy enjoying a particularly exciting passage in a book. I hope he’s afraid, he thought. And I hope this is one of the last chapters he appears in.

Mortimer’s face twisted when the Piper pressed his knife against his ribs. Oh yes, he’s obviously made the wrong enemies in this story, thought Orpheus. And the wrong friends. But that was high-minded heroes for you. Stupid.

"What kind of solution?" The Adderhead scratched his itching flesh. "You’ll bind me another book, what else? But this time you won’t go unobserved for a single second.

And once this new book with its spotlessly white pages protects me from Death again, we’ll write your name in the other one — so that you can know for a while how it feels to be rotting alive. After that I’ll tear it to pieces, page by page, and watch as you feel your flesh tearing and you beg the White Women to come for you.

Doesn’t that sound like a solution satisfactory to all parties?"

Ah. A new White Book. Not a bad idea, thought Orpheus. But my name would suit its brand-new pages so much better! Stop dreaming, Orpheus, he told himself.

The Piper had his knife to Mortimer’s throat. "Well, what’s your answer, Bluejay?

Want me to carve it into you with my knife?"

Mortimer said nothing.

"Answer!" the Piper snarled at him. "Or shall I do it for you? There’s only one answer, anyway.

Mortimer still said nothing, but Violante appointed herself to speak for him. "Why should he help you if you’re going to kill him in any case?" she asked her father.

The Adderhead shrugged his heavy shoulders. "I could let him die in a rather less painful way, or just send his wife and daughter to the mines instead of killing them.

After all, we’ve bargained for those two once before."

"But this time they’re not in your hands." Mortimer’s voice sounded as if he were very far away. He’s going to say no, thought Orpheus in astonishment. What a fool.

"Not yet, but they soon will be." The Piper let his knife slide down Mortimer’s chest, and its point traced a heart over the place where the real one beat. "Orpheus has given us a very detailed description of the place where they’re hiding. You heard.

The Milksop is presumably taking them to Ombra at this very moment."

For the second time Mortimer looked at Orpheus, and the hatred in his eyes was sweeter than the little cakes that Oss was sent to buy for him in Ombra market every Friday. Well, there’d be no more Oss now. Unfortunately, the Night-Mare had eaten him when it slipped out of Fenoglio’s words — it had taken Orpheus some time to get it under control. But he could always find a new bodyguard.

"You can get down to work at once. Your noble patroness, very usefully, has made sure everything you’ll need is here!" spat the Piper, and this time blood flowed when he pressed his knife against Mortimer’s throat, "Obviously, she wanted to provide every last detail to make us think you were really still alive only to cure the Book.

What a farce. Ah, well, she always had a weakness for strolling players."

Mortimer ignored the Piper as if he were invisible. He looked only at the Adderhead.

"No," he said. The word hung heavily in the dark hall. "I will not bind you another book. Death would not forgive me a second time for that."

Violante instinctively took a step toward Mortimer, but he took no notice of her.

"Don’t listen to him!" she told her father. "He’ll do it! Just give him a little time."

Oh, so she really was fond of the Bluejay. Orpheus frowned. One more reason to wish him to the devil.

The Adderhead looked thoughtfully at his daughter. "Why would you want him to do it?"