Inkheart 3 Inkdeath by Cornelia Funke

Author:Cornelia Funke [Funke, Cornelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-04-01T02:33:46+00:00

194

“Really?” Orpheus immediately began wondering what kind of possibilities that opened up for this story, but Mortola didn’t give him any time to think it over.

“You’ve settled into this world in fine style, haven’t you?” she murmured, looking up at his house. “Four-Eyes, the milky-bearded merchant from across the sea, who trades in unicorns and dwarves and can read every wish of the new lord of Ombra in his eyes — well, I thought to myself, bless me if that isn’t my dear friend Orpheus! He’s obviously managed to read himself here. And you’ve even brought that nasty dog along with you.

Cerberus bared his teeth, but Ironstone was still trembling. Glass men really were absurd creatures. And to think FenogliO was proud of them!

“What do you want?” Orpheus did his best to sound cool and superior, not like the frightened little boy he became only too easily in Mortola’s presence. She still terrified him, he had to admit it.

Footsteps echoed through the night, presumably from one of the patrols sent out by the Piper to comb Ombra in case the Black Prince found some way of freeing his noble fellow-fighter after all.

“Do you always welcome your guests outside the door?” hissed Mortola. “Come on, time we went in!”

Orpheus had to bring the bronze knocker down on the wood three times before Oss opened the door. He blinked sleepily down at Mortola.

“Is this that wardrobe-man from the other world or a new one?” asked Mortola, pushing her way past Oss with her skirts rustling.

“A new one,” muttered Orpheus, whose mind was still trying to work out whether it was a good thing she was back or not. Wasn’t she supposed to be dead? But it was becoming clearer all the time that you couldn’t rely on Death in this world. Which was both reassuring and alarming.

He took Mortola, not to his study, but into the reception room. The old woman looked around as if everything in it were hers. No, very likely it wasn’t a good thing she was back. And what did she want of him? He could imagine: Mortimer. For sure she still wanted to kill him. Mortola didn’t abandon such plans easily — particularly not where her son’s murderer was concerned.

In this case, however, it looked like other people were ahead of her in line.

“So now the bookbinder really is the Bluejay!” she remarked, as if Orpheus had spoken his thoughts out loud. “How many more ridiculous songs are they going to sing about him? Hailing him as their savior.., as if we hadn’t brought him to this world in the first place! And the Adderhead, instead of hunting him down after he killed his best men on Mount Adder, blames Mortola for his escape and for the way the flesh is rotting on his own bones. I knew at once it must be the White Book. Silvertongue is wily, but his innocent look deceives them all, and the Adder handed me, not him, over to the torturers, to get the name of the poison.

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