Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

Author:Cornelia Funke [Funke, Cornelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Adventure, Magic, Young Adult, Children, Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9780439709101
Publisher: Scholastic
Published: 2003-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

‘Well, I don’t want to talk to you.’ Dustfinger tried to free himself from the bony fingers. They were surprisingly strong, but Dustfinger had the knife, Basta’s flick-knife. He took it out of his pocket, snapped it open and held it under the old man’s chin. His hand was trembling, he had never enjoyed threatening anyone with a knife, but the old man let go. And Dustfinger ran.

He ignored whatever Silvertongue was calling after him. He just ran for it, as he had often done in the past. He could trust his legs even if he didn’t yet know where they were taking him. He left the village and the road behind, dodged under some trees, ran through wild grass, plunged in among the mustard-yellow gorse bushes, let the silvery foliage of the olive trees hide him … he had to get away from the houses, away from the paved roads. Wild country had always protected him. Only when every breath he drew hurt him did he throw himself down into the long grass behind an abandoned cistern where frogs croaked and the rainwater that had collected among the grey stones steamed in the sun. He lay there gasping, listening to his own heartbeat and staring at the sky.

He jumped. ‘Who’s that?’

The boy stood there. Farid had followed him.

‘Go away!’ shouted Dustfinger.

The boy crouched down among the wild flowers that grew everywhere – blue and yellow and red splashes of bright colour in the grass.

‘I don’t want you!’ snapped Dustfinger.

The boy said nothing, but picked a wild orchid and examined the bloom. It looked like a bumble-bee on the tip of a flower stem. ‘What a strange flower!’ he murmured. ‘I’ve never seen one like that before.’

Dustfinger sat up and leaned against the side of the cistern. ‘You’ll be sorry if you keep running after me,’ he said. ‘I’m going back. You know where to.’

Only when he said it did he realise that he had made up his mind – long ago. Yes, he was going back. Dustfinger the coward was going back into the lion’s den. Never mind what Silvertongue said, or what his daughter thought – there was only one thing he wanted. He had never wanted anything else. And if he couldn’t have it now, then at least he could hope that one day his wish would come true.

The boy stayed sitting there.

‘Go away, will you? Go back to Silvertongue! He’ll look after you.’

Farid sat there unmoved, his arms round his knees. ‘You’re going back to that village?’

‘Yes, the village where the devils and demons live. Believe me, they’ll kill a boy like you and eat you for breakfast. They’ll enjoy their coffee all the more afterwards.’

Farid stroked his cheeks with the orchid. He made a face as the petals tickled his skin. ‘Gwin wants to get out,’ he said.

He was right. The marten was biting the fabric of the rucksack and sticking his muzzle out of it. Dustfinger undid the straps and freed him. Gwin blinked

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