You can't turn back the hands of time
Another day is gone
Washed away with sorrows that you dwelled upon
And as the moon is rising, you think to yourself
I could be gone, if I go now
Hands of Time—Rachel Diggs
The Adderhead doesn't release Julianne until the candles are guttering and she's swaying on her feet. Firefox leads her out of the banquet hall with a hand at her elbow to keep her upright, a faint gleam of sympathy in his eyes. He's a villain, she's not going to argue with that, but there's still a sliver of kindness inside him after the world has beaten most of it out of him.
"I really hate that guy," she groans, leaning heavily against a pillar. "I should've sung Veggie Tales songs just to annoy his ass." There's a snort near her ear, but Firefox is as straight-faced as always when she glances over at him. He's also five feet away now that she's got the pillar to keep her upright.
"I would have loved to see that," Dustfinger whispers, breath warm against her ear. She can feel his warmth and smell him, but he's totally invisible. "Silly Songs With Julianne, huh?" She hums an affirmative, reaching out a slow hand until she feels his fingers twining with hers.
"Is this that trick you were going to show Farid?" She keeps her voice low and head turned so that a curtain of hair hides her face.
"It is. What do you think?"
"Not bad." There's a quiet chuckle that makes all her muscles relax, the sound so very comforting. "Fenoglio's words worked, Meggie and I are being sent to a tower dungeon with our father. We're going to bind a special book."
"Yes, I read about that. I'm glad your sister was able to read the author's words. I can't stay long, but I'm glad I got to see you. Stay safe, little bird." Her smile is a wary thing that she can barely manage, but it's there all the same.
"Always, Dusty." Firefox latches onto her arm again, pulling her with him towards a set of stairs that wind up to the dungeon room. They're quiet on the way up, Firefox never noticing the lingering scent of smoke or honey. There are two guards standing watch at the top of the tower, one hand resting on the sword at their belts.
"Open the door," Firefox commands. One soldier opens the door and steps aside for them to enter, Firefox letting her arm go as she heads inside. The door shuts behind her, followed by the sound of a bolt sliding into place. She doesn't care about being a captive in a locked room again, all she cares about is the two people currently reclining on the bed.
"How long has he been asleep," she asks, creeping closer to the bed. Mo is sound asleep with his head in Meggie's lap, sweat making his hair stick to his face. There's not much color in his cheeks, but she doesn't feel any fever when she rests the back of her hand against his forehead.
"Not long," Meggie whispers. "He's doing better like the Barn Owl told us." Meggie's struggling to keep her eyes open as Julianne lowers herself to the floor, back against the bed frame. "I was describing the illustrations I saw in the Laughing Prince's castle when he finally fell asleep again.
"You should get some sleep, Meggs."
"I'm fine. I can stay awake for hours." But she's fighting it off with a stick, eyes bloodshot and sore as she tries to keep them open. Meggie's always been like this, too stubborn for her own good. Julianne knows how to beat her, though, years of tending to the little terror when she'd been so sick as a little girl.
"Tender shepherd, tender shepherd, let me help you count your sheep; one in the meadow, two in the garden, three in the nursery fast asleep," Julianne sings, keeping her voice whisper soft. Meggie's lids droop slightly lower and her back sways against the wall. "Tender shepherd, tender shepherd, watches over all his sheep; one, say your prayers and two, close your eyes and three, safe and happily fall asleep…."
Meggie's eyes slide closed and Julianne's follow suit.
The sunlight is beginning to pour through the tower window when their visitors step inside, Basta and Piper flanking the Magpie. Julianne straightens out of a slouch, still too tired to manage any sort of pretense. She looks Basta dead in the eyes and says," You look like shit, dude." Basta looks ready to growl some sort of insult, but Mortola slaps the back of her hand against his chest and it seems to drive the air out of him. The skin Julianne can see is bright red and tight, the lingering reminder of what Dustfinger and Farid are capable of.
"Those were interesting lies that you had hidden in your dress," Mortola tells Meggie with a narrow-eyes stare. "The Adderhead was particularly interested in the part about three very special words." The color drains out of Meggie's cheeks, but Mo and Julianne don't react to the words.
"I got some words if you want to repeat them to the Adderhead," Julianne says, stretching her legs out in front of her. "There's just two in all, starts with F and ends with U." Mortola ignores her in favor of stepping closer to the bed where Meggie is half hidden behind Mo.
"He knows your little plan, but he still thinks your father can bind immortality into a book. He's as gullible as all princes are, but that doesn't matter now because your grand plans for Cosimo the Fair will never come to pass. He's dead and for good this time." A few more steps bring the old woman even with the bed and she reaches out with bony fingers to pinch Meggie's cheeks. Mo and Julianne act in unison, wanting this old bitch as far from Meggie as possible, but Mortola's henchmen are just as fast. Basta puts his knife up to ward Mo off while Piper grabs a fistful of Julianne's hair and yanks her back.
"Leave her be," Mo snaps
"Your tongue has lost its magic power, my dear," Mortola continues. "The words are useless and the book your father is meant to bind will be just paper and leather. Once the Silver Prince realizes that, all of you will be hanged and I will be avenged at last."
"Tell your dogs to back down and I'll avenge my foot up your ass," Julianne growls in the same instant that her father slaps Basta's knife away to pull Meggie closer to him. The Folcharts aren't confrontational for the most part, but all the rage they suppress comes out in force when a loved one is threatened. One wrong move and Mortola will learn that lesson all over again.
"Why should I be worried about Cosimo's death," Meggie asks with relief warming her cheeks. Julianne has to think for a moment, but then she remembers that Meggie had never spoken Cosimo's name last night. She hadn't weaved the inkspell around him, but she had read about the White Book.
"No concern for your would-be savior, but you believe in that five-hundred-page book, eh? It's a book and nothing else and I'm sure you remember what my son used to do to books. Capricorn would never entrust his life to such a flimsy thing."
"Funny, it was written words that killed your baby boy," Mo says, eyes hard as he glares at her. "And apparently all it takes is three words written down to kill your prince."
"Yes, and I know those three words well." Mo scoffs, leaning back on an elbow. It's meant to look casual, but it puts him between Mortola and Meggie.
"Do you plan on killing the Adderhead and placing Basta on the throne? Or do you imagine yourself ruling?" Mortola casts an anxious glance over her shoulder to the guard standing outside the door before facing Mo again. She does her best to be expressionless, but Julianne can see the bright fury blazing in her eyes, the growing madness.
"Whatever my plans are, Silvertongue, you and your family won't be alive to see them." She turns to look at Piper, the minstrel still holding onto Julianne's hair. "Why isn't he in chains," she snaps. "He's still a prisoner! At least bind them while you move him!" Piper shoves Julianne away from him and does as Mortola commands, roughly tying Mo's hands behind his back.
"Shall I bind the witch's hands, too," Basta asks.
"No, the little witch won't try to leave without her beloved father." Mortola's gaze finds Julianne and the cruelty in her expression is wholly Capricorn. It seems the whole egomaniacal dictator headspace is genetic. "Move them to the Old Chamber but watch them closely. Make sure no words fall into their hands." After she leaves, Basta turns his full attention on where Julianne is still sprawled over the floor, raising a brow.
"Do I need to bind your hands, Songbird?" The fear is creeping in again without Mortola here to control Basta and she fights the urge to curl up beneath the bed. The more fear he sees in her, the more he gets off. She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly before answering.
"No, I'll behave." He looks doubtful, but he doesn't pull the short length of rope from his belt after she stands. He and the Piper escort them to the most remote part of the castle, another tower with a shitty view and a layer of dust so thick that they leave footprints wherever they walk. "Jesus Christ, this place is a tomb."
"You're not too far off the mark. This was the room Violante and her mother shared." The pink bed hangings are moth-eaten and rotting, the flowers long dead in their cracked vases, and leaves gathering beneath a window missing the glazed glass of the other rooms in the castle. In the middle of the room sits a long table with a man standing behind it, hair pale as parchment and ink stains decorating his hands.
"Is this him," the man asks, giving Mo a thorough up-and-down glance. "He doesn't look like a bookbinder. I doubt he's ever held a book in his life." A smile steals over Mo's face, that mischievous spark back in his eyes as he moves to examine the tools laid out for his use. "My name is Taddeo and I'm the librarian here. I don't suppose these tools mean anything to you, but they're the best this kingdom has to offer."
"Hmm," Mo hums, a short sound that seems to ruffle the other man's feathers. He holds out his hands as well as he can with them behind his back, his smile never fading as the Piper unties him. "I suppose this will do. You should just be glad that I asked for paper and not parchment." He reaches out to feel the paper and then gives Taddeo a look, cocking one of his brows.
"What?"
"Nothing, it's just that this paper isn't nearly as good as you claim. It's rough and it'll be a pain in the neck to resize if you haven't already done that. As for the tools, well…." He trails off with a sigh of disappointment so theatrical that Julianne has to bite her cheek to keep from smiling. "I suppose they're serviceable." Mo lifts each and every tool set out for him, giving them a good once-over before moving on to the next and the next. It's not meant to be haughty, just a habit from doing much the same in his own workshop at home.
"Do you have any questions?"
"I'll need a press and a sewing frame. I'll also need something to heat the glue with." The doubt falls away from Taddeo's face, like he can finally and truly believe Mo is who he says he is. No common criminal could know such things even existed.
"You'll have everything you need before evening."
"The claps are alright, but I'll need another file, and leather and linen for the tapes." Taddeo nods his head excitedly, a smile replacing his scowl. She doubts he gets many visitors to his library and he'd be happy to talk to a White Woman if they showed a vague interest in words.
"Of course, you'll have all of it and anything else you ask for." Mo nods and leans a little more on the table, palms pressed flat against the wood as a little more color leaves his cheeks. "Are you alright?"
"Just not as strong as I'd like to be yet." Mo clears his throat but doesn't straighten up when he speaks again. "The leather seems flexible enough to use and the glue…" He sniffs at it and pulls it away with a wrinkled nose. "Well, we'll see if it's good enough. I'll need some paste, too. Glue is good for covers, but Bookworms like its flavor too much."
"He really was telling the truth," Piper mutters, so low that Julianne nearly misses it.
"He does that quite a lot yet people are always surprised," she whispers back. Piper gives a slight nod, then shakes his head in wonderment.
"My father needs a chair," Meggie says during a lull in conversation. "Can't you all see he's injured? Is he meant to do his work standing up?" She sounds so much like Auntie in that instance that Julianne half expects Elinor to show up and clap the girl on the back with a proud smile.
"Of course," Taddeo nods," I'll have a chair brought in at once." He keeps his gaze on Mo, completely starstruck. "You really are a bookbinder, aren't you?"
"It doesn't matter what he claims to be," Piper says, the wonderment dropping away. "He's a murderer above all else. Isn't that right, Basta?" Basta rubs a hand over a burned cheek with a wince, like he's seeing the moment Capricorn died all over again.
"Yes, that's true," Basta nods. "He's more dangerous than a nest of vipers and his daughters are no better." Brown eyes move from the tools to Mo's face, hard as stones. "Don't think of pocketing one of those knives, Silvertongue. A guard will count them regularly and he'll cut off one of Julianne's fingers for each missing tool. After all, she doesn't need fingers to sing."
"Well, no," she says, eyeing her fingers as though to make sure they're still there. "But I'd look a bit lopsided without them, wouldn't I?" She holds them up for inspection, noting one of her nails is cracked with a bit of dried blood crusted around it.
"Oh, would you stop threatening my sister and get my father a chair," Meggie demands. Taddeo nods and hurries out of the room, ignoring Piper's cackle.
"Listen to the little witch," he says. "Ordering people around like a prince's brat! I suppose it's not surprising since she claims to be the daughter of a man who can keep Death prisoner between two wooden covers. Do you believe her story, Basta?" Basta isn't sharing in Piper's amusement, grasping at the fingerbone hanging from a leather strap around his neck.
"Who knows," he says.
"Yes, who knows," Mo echoes without turning away from his borrowed tools. "Basta knows I can summon Death, so why should it be difficult to trap it in a book?" The Piper looks to Basta for confirmation, taking no comfort in the pale blotches peeking through the burns along Basta's cheeks.
"All I know is that you should have been dead and buried long ago, Silvertongue. The Silver Prince ate right out of your daughters' hands and he'll come to regret falling for their lies before this is over." The Piper straightens so that he's a good head taller than Basta, looking offended on his master's behalf.
"The Adderhead doesn't fall for any lies," Piper says in a strained voice. "He is a great ruler, don't go about forgetting that. Now get out. The Adderhead's orders are that no one who once served Capricorn will stand guard in this room. Could it be that he doesn't trust you?"
"You worked for Capricorn once yourself, Piper," Basta hisses, stepping closer to the man. "You'd be nothing if not for him." Piper steps closer as well, both men standing so close that not even a piece of paper could fit between them.
"Ever since the Adderhead gave me this silver nose I haven't sung a note for drunken fire-raisers. I only sing for a real prince whose family is older than the towers of this castle. If you're so hung up on Capricorn, then go back to his fortress. Maybe his ghost is haunting those burned-out walls. Oh, but you're afraid of ghosts, aren't you, Basta?"
"Yes, I'm afraid of ghosts, but at least you won't find me crying on my knees in the dead of night because I'm worried the White Women will come for me." Piper's hand flies out so fast that it's a blur, connecting with Basta's cheek hard enough to send the fire-raiser colliding with the doorframe. Basta straightens slowly, wiping at the blood oozing from a new cut along his cheek.
"Watch your filthy tongue, Basta."
"And you take care not to stray down a darkened corridor, Piper. You don't have a nose anymore, but one can always find something else to cut off." Basta storms out of the room, leaving an awkward silence behind once his footsteps have faded away. Julianne and Meggie share a look and it takes all they have not to laugh.
"Laugh and I cut your pretty little throat, Songbird." She presses her lips tight together, doing her best to muffle a snort. She manages to hold it together long enough for Taddeo to return with a chair and Piper to storm out, growling at the guards he posts outside the door. "No one comes in or out except the librarian! And check regularly to make sure the Bluejay is working!" Julianne and Meggie look at each other again, dissolving into a giggle fit that's long overdue and feels like the first ray of sunlight after a long winter. They lean against each other to keep from tumbling to the floor and even Mo gives them a tired smile in response.
"Excuse me," Taddeo says in a hushed voice once the laughter has tapered off. "I have a few books that are showing strange signs of damage. Could you maybe take a look at them?" Mo nods his head and directs that smile to Taddeo.
"Of course," he says, the most natural answer in all the world to such a question. Taddeo nods and glances at the door, one of the guards pacing up and down the hall with a sullen frown.
"Mortola mustn't know, so I'll come back when it's dark. There are wonderful books in this castle, but no one here appreciates them like they deserve. I've heard matters aren't much different in the Laughing Prince's castle now, but at least they have Balbulus and his illustrations. We were all very sorry when the Adderhead gave his daughter our best illustrator to take with her as her dowry."
"And I'm sure Violante wasn't too happy to be sold off to a man she'd never met," Julianne mutters under her breath.
"Since he left, I've only been allowed to employ two scribes and one illuminator of only average talent. The only copies I can commission are of the Adderhead's ancestors, the mining and working of silver, or war. Last year, when the wood ran short again, Firefox even heated the small banqueting hall with my finest books." Tears cloud Taddeo's eyes and Julianne feels a pang of sympathy in her breast.
"Bring me the books whenever you like," says Mo.
"Yes, I will. Thank you so much." He gives Mo one last smile before scurrying out of the room, the door shutting behind him and the bolt sliding home to lock them in. Mo sits heavily in the chair, back curved over the table as he catches his breath.
"I suppose we should get to work. A book to keep Death at bay!" He sighs and heaves out a dry laugh. "It's certainly one of Fenoglio's more entertaining ideas even if it is for a butcher. You two will have to help me with the stitching and folding and pressing."
"Of course," Meggie nods.
"No problem, Mo," Julianne says. They all set to work, performing tasks with an ease that comes from repetition. The tools might be different, but they all work the same way and the Folcharts have a deft hand with them. Mo whistles after a moment or two, Meggie joining in while Julianne sings softly. "Look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities, forget about your worries and your strife…."