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4
INK-CLOTHES

    A new morning woke Meggie, with pale light that fell on her face and air as fresh as if no one had ever breathed it before. The fairies were twittering outside her window like birds that had learned to talk, and a blue jay screeched somewhere — if it really was a blue jay. The Strong Man could imitate any bird’s call so well that it sounded as if the real thing were nesting in his broad chest. And they all answered him: larks, mockingbirds, woodpeckers, nightingales, and Gecko’s tame crows.

    Mo was awake, too. She heard his voice outside - and her mother’s. Could Farid have come at last? She quickly rose from the straw mattress she slept on (what had sleeping in a bed felt like? She could hardly remember) and went to the window.
    She’d been waiting for Farid for days. He had promised to come.

    However, she saw no one out in the yard but her parents and the Strong Man, who smiled at her when he saw her standing at the window.

    Mo was helping Resa to saddle one of the horses that had been waiting in the stables when they first came here. The horses were so beautiful that they must once have belonged to one of the Milksop’s highborn friends, but as with many of the things the Black Prince brought, Meggie tried not to think too much about how they fell into the robbers’ hands. She loved the Black Prince, Battista, and the Strong Man, but some of the others sent a shudder down her spine. Men like Snapper and Gecko, for instance, although the same men had rescued her and her parents on Mount Adder.
    "Robbers are robbers, Meggie," Farid often said. "The Prince does what he does for other people, but several of his men just want to fill their pockets without having to toil in the fields or in a workshop." Farid . . . She missed him so much that she felt ashamed of it.

    Her mother was looking pale. Resa had often been sick over the last few days. That must be why she wanted to ride over and see Roxane. No one knew what to do in such cases better than Dustfinger’s widow, except perhaps for the Barn Owl, but he himself hadn’t been particularly well since the death of Dustfinger, and especially since the Adderhead had burned down the infirmary he’d run for so many years on the other side of the forest. No one knew what had become of Bella and all the other healers there.

    A mouse, horned like Dustfinger’s marten, scurried past as Meggie went outside, and a fairy whirred toward her and snatched at her hair, but by now Meggie knew just how to shoo them away. The colder the weather, the fewer fairies ventured out of their nests, but they were still on the hunt for human hair.

    "Nothing keeps them warmer," Battista always said. "Except for bears’ hair, and it’s dangerous to pull that out."

    The morning was so cool that Meggie wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.
    The clothes the robbers had found for them weren’t as warm as the sweaters she’d have worn on a day like this in the other world, and she thought almost wistfully of the warm socks waiting for her in Elinor’s cupboards.

    Mo turned and smiled as she came toward him. He looked tired but happy to see her.
    He wasn’t sleeping much. Often he would work late into the night in his makeshift workshop, using the few tools that Fenoglio had found him. And he was always going out into the forest, either alone or with the Prince. He thought Meggie didn’t know, but several times when she had been standing by the window unable to sleep, waiting for Farid, she had seen the robbers come for him. They called to Mo with the blue jay’s cry. Meggie heard it almost every night.

    "Are you feeling any better?" She looked at her mother anxiously. "Perhaps it was those mushrooms we found the other day."

    "No, it definitely wasn’t the mushrooms." Resa looked at Mo and smiled. "Roxane is sure to know a herb that will help. Would you like to come with me? Brianna might be there; she doesn’t work for Orpheus every day."

    Brianna. Why