Whether or not their plan worked depended on him and his words – and Meggie's reading.
Meggie felt the paper in her sleeve, scratching her skin. Her hands seemed like the hands of a stranger as she leafed through the pages of the book. The place where she was to begin was no longer marked by a folded corner. A bookmark as black as charred wood lay between the pages. "Push your hair back from your forehead, " Fenoglio had told her. "That will be the signal to me. " But just as she raised her left hand the crowd on the benches became restless again.
Flatnose was back, with soot marks on his face. He hurried to Capricorn's side and whispered something to him. Capricorn frowned and looked toward the houses. Now Meggie saw two plumes of smoke rising into the sky from behind beside the church tower.
Capricorn rose quickly from his chair. He tried to sound composed, ironic, like a man amused at some childish prank, but his face told a different story. "I am sorry to have to spoil the fun for a few more of you, but tonight the red rooster is crowing here, too. A feeble little rooster, but its neck must be wrung all the same. Flatnose, take another ten men back with you. " Flatnose obeyed and marched off with his reinforcements. The benches now looked a good deal emptier. "And don't any of you show your faces back here before you've found the fire-raiser!" Capricorn called after them. "Whoever it is, we'll teach him not to start fires in the devil's own domain – we'll teach him a lesson, right here and now!"
Someone laughed, but most of those who had stayed behind were looking uneasily in the direction of the village. Some of the maids had actually risen to their feet, but the Magpie called their names in a sharp voice, and they were quick to sit back down with the others, like schoolchildren unfairly slapped on the hand. Nonetheless, the restlessness persisted. Scarcely anyone was looking at Meggie; almost all the members of her audience had turned their backs to her and were pointing at the smoke and whispering to one another. A red glow was creeping up the church tower, and gray smoke formed a dense cloud above the rooftops.
"What is all this? Why are you staring at that little wisp of smoke?" There was no missing the anger in Capricorn's voice now. "A bit of smoke, a few flames – so what? Are you going to let that spoil our festivities? Fire is our best friend, have you forgotten?"
Meggie saw the doubting faces turn back toward him. Then she heard a name. Dustfinger. A woman's voice had called it out.
"What does that mean?" Capricorn's voice was so sharp that Darius almost dropped the casket of snakes. "There is no Dustfinger anymore. He's lying up there in the hills with his mouth full of earth and that marten of his on his breast. I never want to hear his name again. He is forgotten as if he had never been -"
"That's not true. "
Meggie's voice rang out over the arena so loud and clear that she herself was alarmed. "He's here!" She held up the book. "Never mind what you do to him. Everyone who reads this story will see him – you can even hear his voice, and see the way he laughs and breathes fire. "
All went perfectly quiet. A few feet scraped uneasily on the red, rough surface of the old football field – then, suddenly, Meggie heard something behind her. It was a ticking like the sound of a clock, yet not quite the same, it sounded like a human tongue imitating a clock: tick-tick- tick-tick- tick-tick. The sound was coming from among the cars parked behind the wire fence with their dazzling headlights on. Meggie couldn't help it – she looked around, in spite of the Magpie and all the suspicious eyes turned on her. She could have kicked herself for being so stupid. Suppose they had seen it, too – the thin figure rising among the cars and quickly ducking down again.
But no one seemed to have noticed her glance anymore than the ticking.
"A very fine speech!" said Capricorn slowly. "But you're not here to make funeral orations for dead traitors. You're here to read aloud, and I am not going to tell you so again."
Meggie forced herself to look at Capricorn. She mustn't look at the cars again. Suppose that really had been Farid? Suppose she hadn't imagined the ticking?
The Magpie was watching her suspiciously. Perhaps she had heard it, too, that soft, harmless ticking, nothing but a tongue clicking against someone's teeth. What did it mean, unless you knew the story of Captain Hook and his fear of the crocodile with the ticking clock inside it? The Magpie wouldn't have read it, but Mo knew Meggie would understand his signal. He had woken her up often enough with that ticking sound, right beside her ear, so close that it tickled. "Breakfast time, Meggie!" he used to whisper. "The crocodile's here!"
That was it. Mo knew she would recognize the ticking that helped Peter Pan to go aboard Captain Hook's ship and rescue Wendy. He couldn't have given her a better signal.
Wendy, thought Meggie. What had happened next? For a moment she almost forgot where she was, but the Magpie reminded her. She slapped Meggie's face with the flat of her hand.
"Start reading, will you, little witch!" she hissed.
And so Meggie obeyed.
Hastily, she removed the black bookmark from the pages where it lay. She must hurry, she must read before Mo did anything silly. He didn't know what she and Fenoglio were planning to do.
"I'm going to start now, and I don't want anyone disturbing me!" she cried. "Anyone! Is that understood?" Oh please, let Mo understand, she thought, please!
A few of Capricorn's remaining men laughed, but Capricorn himself leaned back and folded his arms in anticipation. "Yes, just you take heed of what the girl said!" he called. "Anyone who disturbs her will be given to the Shadow to welcome him here."
Meggie put two fingers up her sleeve. There they were, Fenoglio's words. She looked at the Magpie. "Well, she's disturbing me!" she said out loud. "I can't read with her standing so close behind me."
Capricorn gestured impatiently to the Magpie. Mortola's face looked sour, as if he had told her to eat a bar of soap, but she took two or three reluctant steps back. That would have to do.
Meggie raised her hand and pushed the hair back from her forehead.
The signal for Fenoglio.
He instantly launched into his performance. "No, no, no! She's not to read!" he cried, moving toward Capricorn before Cockerell could stop him. "I can't allow it! I am the author of this story, and I didn't write it to be misused for the purposes of violence and murder!"
Cockerell tried to put his hand over Fenoglio's mouth, but Fenoglio bit his fingers and sidestepped him with more agility than Meggie would ever have expected of the old man.
"I invented you!" he bellowed as Cockerell chased him around Capricorn's chair. "And I'm sorry I did, you stinking devil of a villain. " Then he ran off. Cockerell didn't catch up with Fenoglio until he reached the cage containing the prisoners, and in revenge for the mockery and laughter coming from the benches he twisted the old man's arm behind his back so viciously that Fenoglio let out a cry of pain. Yet, when Cockerell dragged him back to Capricorn's side, Fenoglio was looking pleased, because he knew he had given Meggie plenty of time. They had rehearsed it often enough. Her fingers had been shaking as she took the sheet of paper out of her sleeve, but no one noticed anything when she slipped it into the pages of the book. Not even the Magpie.
"How the old man boasts!" cried Capricorn. "Do I look as if an old fellow like that invented me?"