Mortola knew exactly how to harness him for her own purposes once the Black Prince was once out of the way. "What are you all still doing here, Snapper?" she would whisper to him.

"There are more important things in life than looking after a few snottynosed children! The Bluejay knows why he’s really landed you with them. He’s planning to sell you all! You must kill him before he throws in his lot with the Adderhead's daughter. How did he try fooling you -- by saying he only wanted to write in the before he throws in his lot with the Adderhead’s daughter. How did he try fooling you by saying he only wanted to write in the White Book to kill the Adderhead?

Nonsense! He wants to make himself immortal! And there’s something else I’m sure he hasn’t told you. The White Book doesn’t just keep Death at bay, it makes its owner rich beyond the dreams of avarice!"

Oh yes, Mortola knew how Snapper’s eyes would light up at those words. He didn’t understand what made the Bluejay tick. Nor would he understand that she herself wanted the Book only to buy her son back from Death. But he would certainly set off at once with the prospect of gold and silver before his eyes. As soon as the Black Prince couldn’t stop him anymore.., and luckily the berries worked fast.

Gecko called to her. He had filled his hand with bread crumbs and was holding it up as if there were nothing tastier in the world. What a fool. Thought he knew something about birds. Well perhaps he really did. After all, she was no ordinary bird. Mortola uttered a hoarse laugh. It sounded strange, coming from that pointed beak, and the Strong Man raised his head and looked up at the rocky ledge where she was perching. Yes, he knew about birds and what they said. She’d have to watch him carefully. "Oh, never mind, kek-kek-kek, kraaa!" said the magpie in her, the magpie that thought only of worms and shiny things and the gleam of its black feathers.

"They’re all fools, fools, such fools. But I am clever. Come along, old woman, let’s fly after the Bluejay and peck out his eyes. What fun!"

Every day it was getting more difficult to keep her wings still when the magpie wanted to spread them, and Mortola had to shake her bird’s head harder and harder to make it think human thoughts. Sometimes she couldn’t even remember for sure what human thoughts were like.

Now the feathers would shoot out through her skin even without the seeds. She had already swallowed too many, and the poison was wandering through her body and sowing the bird in her blood. Never mind. You’ll find a way to drive it out, Mortola, she thought. But first the bookbinder must be dead and her son alive again! His face .

. . what did it look like? She could hardly remember.

The Black Prince was still arguing with Snapper, as he did so often these days. Eat it!

Start eating, you fool! Two other robbers came along the pockmarked actor who was always at the Prince’s side, and Gecko, who saw the world as Snapper did. One of the women came over to them, brought the actor a bowl of soup, too, and pointed to the one she had put in front of the Prince.

That’s right, listen to her! Sit down! Eat! Mortola thrust her head forward. She felt how her human body wanted to shake off the feathers, how it longed to spread and stretch. Yesterday a couple of children had almost caught her shape-shifting. Silly, noisy nuisances. She’d never liked children except her own son, and she had never let even him see that she loved him. Love ruined you. It made you soft, gullible. . . .

There. He was eating. At last. Yes, enjoy it, Prince! The bear trotted up to his master and snuffled at the bowl. Get out, you clumsy great brute. Let him eat it. Four berries. Five would have been better, but with a little luck four would do the trick. It was useful that the trees they grew on were far from rare. Two of them stood only a little way below the cave. Resa was always warning the children not to try their berries.

The Black Prince put the bowl to his mouth and drank the dregs. Good. He’d soon feel Death twisting his guts. Mortola uttered a triumphant croak and spread her wings. Gecko raised his hand with the bread crumbs again as she flew away over his head. Idiot. They were all stupid, very, very stupid. But that was just as well.

The women began ladling soup out for the children, and Silvertongue’s daughter stood far away at the back of the long line. There’d be enough time to pick a few berries for her, too. More than enough time.

CHAPTER 44

THE HAND OF DEATH

Minerva made good soup. Meggie had often eaten it when she was staying with Fenoglio, and the aroma rising from the steaming bowls was so delicious that for a moment the huge, chilly cave really seemed like home. "Please, Meggie, do eat something!" Resa had said. "I don’t have an appetite any more than you do, but it’s not going to help your father if we starve to death because we’re so worried about him."

No, she supposed not. When she’d asked Farid to call up the fiery pictures for her again, the flames had shown nothing. "You can’t force them!" Farid had muttered in annoyance as he put the ashes back into his bag. "The flames like to play, so you have to pretend you don’t really want anything from them. But how am I supposed to do that when you’re staring at them as if it were a matter of life and death?"

Well, what else was it? Even the Black Prince was anxious about Mo. He had decided to follow Violante to the Castle in the Lake with a few men. He was going to set off tomorrow, but he wouldn’t take Resa and Meggie with him. "Of course not,"

Meggie’s mother had whispered bitterly. "This world belongs to men.

Meggie picked up the wooden spoon that Doria had carved for her (it was a very good spoon) and listlessly stirred the soup. Jasper peered at it longingly. Of course.

Glass men loved human food, although it wasn’t good for them. Jasper was spending more and more time with Doria, even though Farid was back. Meggie wasn’t surprised. Farid had been far from talkative since Dustfinger sent him away again.

Most of the time he walked restlessly in the surrounding hills or tried to call up pictures in the fire. So far Roxane had looked into the flames only once. "Thank you," she had said to Farid afterward, her voice cool. "But I’d rather go on listening to my heart. It usually tells me whether he’s all right."

"There, isn’t that just what I told Dustfinger?" Farid had said, annoyed. "So why did he send me to her? She doesn’t need me. She’d bewitch me away if she could."

Doria offered Jasper his spoon.

"Don’t give him any!" said Meggie. "He can’t digest it! Ask him." She was very fond of Jasper. He was so much friendlier than Rosenquartz, who liked nothing better than losing his temper and quarreling with Fenoglio.

"She’s right," muttered Jasper gloomily, but his sharp little nose sniffed, as if at least to fill his glass body with the forbidden aroma. The children sitting around Meggie giggled. They all liked the glass man, and Doria often had to rescue him from their small hands. They liked the marten, too, but Jink snapped and spat when the fuss the children made over him got to be too much. The glass man, however, had little defense against human fingers.

The soup really did smell good. Meggie dipped her spoon into her bowl and jumped when the magpie that had flown to Gecko fluttered over to her own shoulder. By now the bird seemed to belong in the cave, like Jink and the bear, but Resa disliked it.