Free Inkdeath by Cornelia Funke Page A

flowers still grew under the windows and balconies of Ombra, tendrils twined around columns and cornices, and faces stuck tongues out of grotesquely distorted mouths from the sand-colored walls, weeping stony tears. But the Laughing Prince’s coat of arms was defaced everywhere, and you could recognize the lion on it only from what was left of its mane.

    "The street on the right leads to the marketplace!" Meggie whispered to Mo, and he nodded like a sleepwalker. Very likely be was hearing, in his mind, the words that had once told him about the scene now surrounding him as he rode on. Meggie had heard about the Inkworld only from her mother, but Mo had read Fenoglio’s book countless times as he tried again and again to find Resa among the words.

    "Is it the way you imagined it?" she asked him quietly.

    "Yes," Mo whispered back. "Yes and no.

    There was a crowd of people in the marketplace, just as if the peace-loving Laughing Prince still ruled Ombra —except that there were hardly any men to be seen, and you could stop and watch entertainers again. For the Milksop allowed strolling players into the city, although only it was whispered if they were prepared to spy for him.
    Mo rode his horse past a crowd of children. There were many children in Ombra, even though their fathers were dead. Meggie saw a torch whirling through the air above the small heads two, three, four torches — and sparks fading and going out in the cold air. Farid? she wondered although she knew he’d done no more fire-eating since Dustfinger’s death. But Mo suddenly pulled his hood down over his forehead, and then she, too, saw the familiar well-oiled face with its constant smile.

    Sootbird.

    Meggie’s fingers closed on Mo’s cloak, but her father rode on, as if the man who had betrayed him once already wasn’t there at all. More than a dozen strolling players had lost their lives because Sootbird had revealed the whereabouts of the secret camp, and M0 himself had almost been among the dead. Everyone in Lombrica knew that Sootbird went in and out of the Castle of Night, that he’d been paid for his treachery in silver by the Piper himself and was now also on excellent terms with the Milksop, yet there he stood in Ombra’s marketplace, smiling, unrivaled now that Dustfinger was dead and Farid had lost his enthusiasm for fire-eating.

    Oh yes, Ombra certainly had new masters. Nothing could have made that clearer to Meggie than Sootbird’s smug, masklike face. It was said that the Adderhead’s alchemists had taught him certain things, and that what he played with now was dark fire, wily and deadly like the powders he used to tame it. The Strong Man had told Meggie that its smoke beguiled the senses, making Sootbird’s spectators think they were watching the greatest fire-eater on earth.

    Whatever the truth of that was, the children of Ombra clapped. The torches didn’t fly half as high in the air as they had for Dustfinger or Farid, but for a while the show made them forget their sad mothers and the work waiting at home.

    "Mo, please!" Meggie quickly turned her face away as Sootbird looked in her direction. "Let’s turn back! Suppose he recognizes you?"

    They were going to close the gates, then the two of them would be hunted through the streets like rats in a trap!

    But Mo just shook his head very slightly as he reined in his horse behind one of the market stalls. "Don’t worry, Sootbird is far too busy keeping the fire away from his pretty face!" he whispered to Meggie. "But let’s dismount. We won’t be so conspicuous on foot."

    The horse shied when Mo led it into the crowd, but he soothed it in a quiet voice.
    Meggie saw a juggler who had once followed the Black Prince among the stalls.
    Many of the strolling players had changed sides now that the Milksop was filling their pockets. These were not bad times for them, and the market traders did good business, too. The women of Ombra couldn’t afford any of the wares for sale,