Chapter 23
Author's Note: Hey guys, I have just finished editing ALL the chapters so I'll be reposting them now. Woo! Pie is on the way all you Pie fans! I have rewritten bits and pieces but nothing's changed dramatically in terms of plot. Enjoy and I will hopefully have a new chapter written up soon! Thanks to Ziliverina for reviewing all the chapters I've reposted so far, it was so sweet of you to do that. There's an Inkheart musical, I wanna see go to Germany and see Cowboy Basta! Re Firefox, I think it was just a coincidence he didn't get read out. I think poor Darius was just trying to read out any henchman and it happened to be Flatnose and Cockerell who appeared instead of Firefox. I like to think Firefox and Cockerell might be brothers since they both have red hair hee!
When the two returned to Basta's house, Dafne discovered that in her absence that the kitchen was now stocked with food and cooking utensils.
"I thought you might prefer cooking here to eating in the church," Basta explained.
He was right, to Dafne's delight. It would be a relief not have to step inside that garish red building for the sake of being fed.
"So that's what you were doing today. Shopping?"
Basta smirked,
"Amongst other things."
Dafne was happy for him not to elaborate any more than that. She was fairly certain that none of these goods had been acquired legally. Despite this, she appreciated the thoughtfulness of the gesture, noting the extra glasses and plates.
"If you'd told me, I would have asked you to get me some alternative clothes," she said jokingly.
Basta frowned slightly.
"What's wrong with what you're wearing?"
He was sitting at the kitchen table as she inspected the new supplies.
Dafne pulled at her sleeves,
"It's not the most comfortable thing to wear," she scowled, "I bet Mortola picked out the fabric herself."
The staple cotton dress worn by all the maidservants was heavy and itchy. It fitted the old woman's nature to inflict such an outfit on them while swathing herself in more soothing black satin.
"Honestly, I had considered it," Basta admitted, "Getting you new clothes, but I... didn't know your size."
Dafne was somewhat grateful that he had been thwarted in this endeavour. Most men were bad judges when it came to picking out women's clothing, leaning towards more provocative items. If that had been the case here, she would have clung to her hated dress like a life-jacket.
"It's okay. Don't worry about it," she said hastily, "What I have now is fine."
Basta's brow furrowed in irritation,
"But you just said it wasn't."
"It's a maid's dress. I'm a maid so I should wear it."
Basta shook his head stubbornly,
"No. Its dress Capricorn's maids wear. You're my maid and I want you to have nicer clothes."
Dafne sighed. She didn't want to get into argument over something she had requested in the first place.
"If you say so."
"I do say so," said Basta, "There's a woman in the village who makes the men's uniforms. She should be able to make you a dress. I'll take you to see her tomorrow."
"Who is she? A maid?" Dafne asked.
"No, she's the wife of one of men. Her name is Isolda."
Dafne recognised the name.
"Do you mean Giulio's wife?"
Basta looked surprised.
"How did you know that?"
"He mentioned her when he was taking me to Capricorn's."
Basta leaned back in his chair,
"I'm surprised he said anything to you," he said, "Giulio isn't one for talking. He's even had some of the men thinking he was mute."
"Trust me he didn't want to," Dafne said, "I kind of forced him. I don't think he likes me very much."
Basta chuckled,
"I wouldn't worry little mouse. Giulio doesn't like anyone."
"What about his wife?" Dafne asked.
"He's protective of her I'll say that much," Basta said, "I've never seen her out of the house."
"That sounds familiar," Dafne observed.
Basta saw her point.
"I guess I can't fault the man there," he conceded.
"He must care about her then," Dafne said.
"That or he's insanely jealous and is scared she might take off with someone," Basta remarked.
"Love and jealousy often go hand and hand," Dafne said.
Basta's expression suddenly turned suspicious, as if her comment had been a dig at him.
She understood why.
Had he not permanently scarred another man's face because he had won the favour of the woman they both loved?
"Are you some expert in love little mouse?" he growled.
"Of course not," Dafne said, "But I've read a lot of books and jealous lovers feature in a quite a lot of them. There was a man called Othello for instance. He killed his wife because he wrongly believed his wife was unfaithful."
"Well that was stupid of him if it wasn't true," Basta remarked, crossing his arms.
Dafne starred at him incredulously.
This verdict by a man who took being rejected to similar extremes.
You dropped a snake into our room!
She chose to not bring this up out loud. She wanted to avoid getting into an argument.
"I suppose so," she said, changing the subject, "What do you want for dinner?"
Basta rose to his feet, digging his cigarettes out of his jacket.
"You're the maid," he said, nonchalantly slipping a cigarette between his lips, "Surprise me."
He left her to it, going outside to smoke.
After taking stock of ingredients, Dafne decided on a simple pasta dish with fresh tomatoes.
She was in the middle of cooking when Basta came back in and proceeded to put her on edge by hovering at her side.
"You can sit down if you want," she hinted, "It's almost ready."
Basta eyed the dirty utensils in the sink and stuck out his bottom lip,
"Are you going to clean those?"
Dafne made a noise of exasperation.
"I'll clean afterwards... if that's okay with you."
Basta relented, muttering under his breath as he settled down at the table.
He kept glancing at the sink though. She could see him doing it out of the corner of her eye.
She hadn't anticipated that he would be so obsessive about cleanliness. It was bizarre that a person with such a laid back attitude to violence was so pernickety about the condition of his house. But Basta was anything but normal. He had come out of book, his quirks were not of his own making but determined by the author, his mannerisms predestined.
Dafne had never read Inkheart, what she knew of Basta came from her experiences of him in the real world. She knew little about his background and the fictional world he had come from. She was curious.
"What was your world like?" she asked him.
"Huh?" Basta said distractedly, turning his attention back to her.
"The world you came from?" she repeated, dishing the pasta into two bowls, leaving some in the saucepan for Silvio, "What was it like?"
Basta seemed taken aback by her question.
"What was it like?" he said, "It's a little similar to this part of your world. There are villages and forests and castles. But instead of cars, there are horses and if you didn't have a horse, you had to walk everywhere," he sighed in annoyance, "And there is no instant fire in little boxes so making fire was always a damned hassle."
Dafne's lips turned upwards in amusement.
"It's not funny," Basta said, as she placed his dinner in front of him, "All that effort each time Capricorn wanted us to burn down someone's house."
Dafne's smile vanished.
"That's awful."
Basta nodded,
"Yes, awful," he said, thinking she was sympathising with him instead of the victims, "Anyway, it wasn't just that. It was all the stupid creatures you had to put up with. Like the fairies. If you crossed them, they put hexes on you. Dirtyfingers weaselled his way into their good books and they showed him how to talk to fire."
"Dustfinger can talk to fire?" Dafne said interestedly.
"Oh yes," Basta said bitterly, "That's how he impresses women, with all his fire tricks."
Was he thinking about Roxanne? Dafne wanted to know more about this woman. But now wasn't the time to enquire, judging by the black look on Basta's face.
"You don't miss your world at all?" Dafne asked, shifting the subject away from Basta's nemesis.
"No," Basta said without hesitation, "There's nothing to miss. I have everything I need here."
"Like a car and a gun and new people to terrorise?" Dafne said.
"And a maid," Basta said, eyes flicking to the sink and adding wistfully, "Though I hadn't expected a maid to be so messy."
Dafne scowled,
"I made you dinner," she said, "Didn't your mother teach you gratitude?"
Basta's eyes widened slightly before narrowing,
"My mother didn't teach me anything" he said quietly, "Whoever she was she didn't want me. She gave me up when I was only small."
Dafne cringed to hear this truth about Basta's past. Her insensitivity had been accidental but this didn't stop her from feeling guilty.
"I'm sorry," she began to apologise, "I didn't know..."
Basta held up a hand silencing her,
"Of course you didn't," he said, "You're not from my world. If you were you would know what my name means."
"What does your name mean?"
Basta's mouth twisted in a sad smile,
"It's not even a name really. It's a title, one given to orphans in my world. A "basta" is an unwanted child," he laughed hollowly, "Unwanted child. That's me. I don't remember anything about my parents. My first memories were the orphanage. I ran away from there when I was ten. Took myself to the nearest village and started living on the streets. I got by as pickpocket. I was good at it because I was quick. But the pickings were usually slim because the villagers weren't exactly rich. When Capricorn came to the village, I had been planning to move on to the city, but that day changed everything..."
Basta began smiling as though this was a happy memory,
"Capricorn came with his men and ordered them to set fire to the village. I think it was because they refused to pay tribute. Like I said, they didn't have much," he scratched his chin thoughtfully, "There might have been a girl he wanted too. I don't quite remember. Anyway, it was chaos, people fleeing as the fire spread. I was trying to get out there myself when one of men grabbed me. I thought I was going to die and I fought back. I had a knife I'd stolen from some passing traveller. I stabbed him with it but it was a pathetic little thing, so dull it barely went in. But it was enough to make him let go. I didn't realise that Capricorn had been watching and when I turned to run there he was. I had impressed him, that's what he said, said he needed a boy like me, someone with the right instincts. I was pretty amazed. He was like a king, standing in the middle of burning village like it was nothing. And he wanted me. Me. A worthless orphan nobody wanted. He was the first person to believe I could be something more."
More that he saw you as someone he could exploit, Dafne thought, this tale made disturbing listening.
She could imagine the burning village, Capricorn extending his devil's hand to a boy who more resembled Silvio in her mind than Basta and the boy gladly accepting.
They seemed interchangeable, Silvio and Basta. Their backgrounds were similar. They were both orphans, with all the baggage of being orphans. Basta's name even branded him as such. Perhaps that was why Basta was so attached to the boy, because Silvio reminded him of himself.
She felt sorry for the man sitting across from her now, knowing his past.
She now understood where that deeply-rooted loyalty for his master sprung from.
He had been vulnerable and easily manipulated.
People who are desperate for kindness are easy to control, give them an inch and they'll follow you blindly.
Capricorn's words rang mockingly in her head. He was right. Basta was the perfect example. He had expertly exploited his craving for acceptance, creating a devoted disciple to do his dirty work.
How she hated him! Hated to hear the admiration in Basta's voice as he talked about a man who in reality couldn't care less about him. She also knew it was pointless informing Basta of the truth as he would most likely reject it vehemently.
So she said nothing, even though Basta had paused as if waiting for comment.
When she offered none, Basta shrugged his shoulders a little self-consciously.
"So that was that," he went on, assuming a more casual tone, "I pledged myself to Capricorn and never looked back. And that, little mouse, is the story of big bad Basta."
"You're not all bad," Dafne found herself saying.
Basta raised an amused eyebrow,
"Do you really think so, little mouse?"
She couldn't dispute that he had committed terrible acts. Having a past like his didn't excuse his actions. But he had saved her today and he obviously cared about Silvio.
"Yes," Dafne said, "At least not as bad as I originally thought."
Basta snorted, looking unimpressed,
"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"
"Yes," Dafne replied, frowning, "Is that a bad thing?"
"You can think what you like, little mouse," Basta said, "But keep it to yourself. You'll ruin my reputation."
"What's so good about your reputation?" Dafne scoffed, "Everyone is afraid of you."
"What about you little mouse?" Basta asked, "Are you afraid of me?"
"No," Dafne said, which wasn't exactly true. She knew him better certainly but she was still wary of him, "I mean I used to be, but now, I..." she held his gaze, "Do I have reason to be?"
Basta's face softened.
"No. You have nothing to fear from me, little mouse."
Sincere as he sounded, Dafne wasn't ready to believe that. But she wanted to give him a chance. He had saved her from Cockerell.
"Then I'm not afraid of you," she said, "Besides, we're friends aren't we?"
Basta looked taken aback.
"Friends?"
"That's what you said last night," Dafne said, "You wanted us to be friends."
"Oh yes," Basta said, regarding her tentatively, "So we are now?"
"Yes," Dafne said, "On one condition."
"Which is?" asked Basta suspiciously.
"You call me Dafne instead of little mouse."
Basta laughed.
"I'm serious," she insisted, "My name is Dafne."
"But I like calling you little mouse," Basta said with a disappointed pout that turned into a smirk.
"Do I look like a rodent?" Dafne said in annoyance, "Do I have big ears and whiskers?"
This prompted more laughter from Basta.
"What's so funny?" Dafne demanded.
"Oh I'm just imagining you with little mousy ears and a little mousy nose," Basta answered.
Dafne's lips uncontrollably lifted. That did sound funny.
"With a tail too?" she asked.
Now they both started to laugh.
"What are you guys laughing about?" enquired a third voice, making her jump.
It was Silvio, back from Capricorn's house, wanting to be let in on the joke.
To be continued...