Inkson
Author's note: By time I wrote this chapter up, I had taken Inkdeath back to the library. I write these next chapters now because I finally bought Inkdeath myself and have taken to re-reading it until I know it by heart. Sorry for the inconvenient and the long wait.
Reply to Faust XI: Thanks for the first review! I'll be sure to keep up the good work- Oh yes, give a megalomaniac everything he needs to take control; he'd better go crazy with power!
Reply to ink0and0paper: Thank you ^-^ And so did I!
Reply to nabbi: The update wasn't all that soon, but I got it up. Not that it awnsers your questions any- Haha! They'll come! And thank you so much for the reviews and compliment- read on please!
Reply to lyncsbabe: Thanks!
Reply to Whatsthenews: And write more I shall- I think Orpheus is fully capable of writing without it, but he was leaning heavily on it- Thanks for the review and read on!
Disclaimer: This writer would like to express that she does not own anything Inky.
Children are all foreigners.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
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The Bookbinder's Son
"Higher!" Meggie called up to the tree. She was smiling so widely that her cheeks were hurting. Doria nodded, and climbed higher up the tree as nimble as a squirrel with only one hand; in the other he held that little wooden airplane he had made just as Meggie had described it.
The other test flight had all resulted in crashing, so this time; Doria found the tallest tree that was closest to the field, and climbed as high as he could. With this set determination on his face, he held on to the tree and chucked the little wooden airplane as hard as he could. Meggie cheered down below, as the little wooden marvel took off like a flat winged sparrow and glided across the sky in a straight line.
Meggie shouted something from down below and chased after the airplane.
"Wait up!" Doria cried, sliding down the tree as quick as he could. By the time his feet hit the ground, she had all ready disappeared into the bushes, her golden haired head bobbling in the sun. What distance it got! Doria felt a sense of pride welt up within him, if he could do this, what else could he make from Meggie's world? Maybe he could try some of those horseless carriages she spoke about.
Meggie bent down, out of Doria's sight, in the bushes as the plane landed neatly in the grass. She was out of breath from running and laughing at the same time. Her brown dress got caught amongst the thorns and bristles of the berry bush but she took no notice, the one thing she did notice were the feet in front of the plane.
She looked up at the owner of the feet. Dustfinger. He stood over her with a grim look on his face. Even without his scars, he could still manage to look like the grimiest messenger of all. She supposed his red and black fire-dancer outfit didn't help manners any. Doria tore through the bushes just then, "Meggie?"
He was stopped upon the sight of Dustfinger, confusion on his face. What was Dustfinger doing here? He held a hand out to Meggie in the silence.
"What is it, Dustfinger?" She asked, taking his hand and helping herself up. Her voice full of concern, and so was her face. That was one thing Doria like about her; you could always see the worry on that beautiful face of hers.
"Come with me," Dustfinger replied forbiddingly, turning about without another word and started back up the hill that led to the lonely stone farm house. Meggie glanced anxiously at Doria, who squeezed her hand reassuringly. They trudged up the hill in silence.
When they came to the foot of the hill, where the old farm house hid from the rest of the world, Dustfinger looked back at them, finally. He gave them a crinkled smile, "You two look like the sky is falling, and here I though you wanted to see your new brother-."
Meggie's eyes went wide, the look of anxiousness washed off her face, like dirty clothes in a stream, replacing it with a look of excitement. She detangled herself from Doria's grasp and took off down the path to her home, running with abandoned, her golden locks following after her. Doria sighed longingly, and followed. Dustfinger continued to walk after them at his own pace.
So Silvertongue's daughter's love burned for another, leaving Farid out like white ashes in a fire pit. Dustfinger missed the boy, he missed him as much as he did when he found himself back again in his world, only this time, Farid was here, but where? The lad didn't even say goodbye this time- he just left…It reminded him of himself. So this must've been what it felt like, the other end of the burn.
It was hard to feel jubilation about the new Folchart when you were missing some one you care about; it was like the boy took a part of him with him. Stop it, Dustfinger, He told himself, If the boy is so much like you, he'll leave, he'll come back. Just like you did. Do. He clambered to the house.
By the time he slipped inside the secluded farm house, Meggie and Doria had joined the group as though they were there all along, taking turns to get a glance at the new born babe. Roxana was cleaning up from the bloody mess of birth. She looked exhausted but the sight of her brought a happy smile to Dustfinger's face. Birds sang outside.
Dustfinger slipped into the room like a shadow, Silvertongue's shadow. That's what they called him these days. He could still feel the man's thoughts, although the connection grew weaker and weaker every day. They were like murmurs, whispers- shadows in the background of his mind. Silvertongue glanced up at Dustfinger, before looking down at his new child. It had his hair, eyes shut, so small as his mother cuddled him.
"What are we going to name him?" Meggie asked in a low tone, as if she spoke any louder she'd break the baby. Doria took a hold of Meggie tenderly, making Meggie blush madly. Dustfinger smiled, the boy probably had marriage on his mind. He wondered how Mo would take to it, when the yet-to-be-named child started to cry.
"Out, out!" Roxana ordered curtly, lifting the bucket of water up, shooing an indigent looking Elinor and company out, "She doesn't need on-lookers gathered around her bed as if she were dying, out!"
They did as they were told, though Elinor didn't do it quietly. For once they were in the living room and Roxana outside dumping water, she expressed her dissatisfaction at being ushered out from her own niece's bedroom in a particularly foul-mouth mannered.
Meggie ignored her, looking at the closed door as though if she stared at it long enough it would become invisible. Her aged aunt stomped away, helping Darius who was making tea; something, he assumed they all needed in a situation like this. Meggie slipped off the arm of the wooden chair she sat on, and crept as well as anyone could creep in front of people to the door.
She looked over her shoulder; Doria gave her a warm smile, but didn't follow. Dustfinger had gone out into the yard with Roxana. She twisted the door knob, and entered the room.
Her new brother had stopped crying, the room was dark, and warm, as though fire had licked the room thoroughly. Resa was feeding him, while Mo sat by. He looked up when he noticed her little blond head poke in, and smiled. A welcoming smile.
Mo patted his lap for Meggie to sit, as she closed the door behind her. Carefully, she walked in, and sat down upon her father's lap, "Oof, you're getting heavy! It's a good thing we have a new little one, my lap might get lonely."
Mo- Mo always made jokes when he was upset or nervous, Meggie bet on the latter in this situation, giving birth in this world without medicine must've crossed his mind as a dangerous thing more then once during Resa's pregnancy.
"What do you think of the name Andrew?" Mo asked, once he saw that he got a smile out of Meggie. Before she could reply, Resa spoke up in a soft weak voice, "I'm sure he'll have a thousand and one names by the time he can talk."
Andrew. Meggie looked at her brother, yes, he looked like an Andrew. Maybe, it was hard to tell when you're all pink and puffy what your name should be. Andrew...he would never know what a car looked like, but he would know just the right way to make a fairy fall asleep. Nor would he know what toothpaste tasted like, but know how tender boar is. He would be a rightful citizen, Meggie thought thoughtfully, born to foreigners of this written land.
"And," Meggie let the name settle on her tongue. She liked that, "That's a nice name. Maybe he'll be able to read things out of books like us, Mo- or draw like you, Resa," She looked at Resa's tired face, tired but happy, so happy, "Or maybe he'll be able to sing, or dance in the clouds-"
Mo laughed at her enthusiasm, "Let's wait until he can walk first!" He gave her a soft push off his lap, and Meggie, taking the subtle hit, got down, "Now go make sure Elinor stays out of Roxana's way before we have battle on our hands."
She gave Mo a keen nod, opening the door, "Oh! Darius is making tea, would you like any?"
Mo returned her nod, though she was pretty sure he wasn't listening. She shut the door quietly behind her.
Andrew- how many names would you have by the time he was Mo's age, even mine? Meggie thought. He already had more then one; Bluejayson that's what they would call him, isn't that what they do with the children of famous heroes. She leaned against the door for a moment, before going towards the kitchen area where Darius was making tea, listening to Elinor talk animatedly about a rude man selling cabbages she had met earlier in the week.
"Oh, Meggie," She said, upon noticing her. She was wiping down a perfectly clean bowl in her frustration, "Is that Roxana character gone, or am I not allowed to see my grandnephew ever?"
Someone knocked on the door. "Oh, for heaven sakes!" Elinor exclaimed, putting the bowl down, "They know they can come in, can't they? Not that the door has a lock or anything on it!"
"I-I'll get it," Darius stammered, this whole birth giving had made him a bit jumping, and Elinior's mood wasn't helping any. He placed the old tea pot down, and headed to the front door, full expecting to see Roxana with her arms full, or Dustfinger, but, instead it was the old-tortoise faced writer, Fenoglio, who was looking back at the owled eyed Darius. One of those awful rainbow fairies was fluttering around his head, chattering eagerly. This one more red then most colours.
"A little birdie told me a new child was born in my world?" He inquired, knowingly, waving the rainbow fairy away, "I know they're not mine, but they do make better spies then glass men, faster and complain far less. More tamable than mine too, a little brainless. Can't improve upon perfection, I guess," He pulled out a thick piece of hair from a pouch attached by rope to his hip, the fairy snatched it up eagerly, and flew away, its mission accomplished. After their first winter, the remaining fairies of Orpheus' creation realized that they needed to prepare for winter as soon as possible and mimicked their blue cousins in the gathering of hair for their nests. Well, most of them anyway.
"Fenogilo!" Meggie cried the same time Doria cried "Inkweaver!" She ran to hug the old man so forceful that he was almost knocked over. Meggie was so full of joy; she just had to share it with everyone.
"Quiet!" Roxana called from outside. A timid giggle from the group floated through the room. They invited the old writer into the farm house.
