"I don't know what's going on here," she snapped at Capricorn. "I don't know who you are, or what you and all these men with guns are doing in this godforsaken village, and I don't want to know either. I'm here to see that this girl gets her father back. We'll leave you the book you're so keen to have — although that's enough to give me heartache, but you'll get it as soon as Meggie's father is safe in my car. And if for any reason he wants to stay here we'd like to hear it from his own lips." Capricorn turned his back to her without a word. "Why did you bring this woman?" he asked Dustfinger. "Bring the girl and the book, I said. Why would I want the woman?" Meggie looked at Dustfinger. The girl and the book. The words kept repeating inside her head, like an echo. The girl and the book, I said. Meggie tried to look Dustfinger in the eye, but he avoided her gaze as if it would burn him. It hurt to feel so stupid. So terribly, terribly stupid. Dustfinger perched on the edge of the table and pinched out one of the candles, gently and slowly as if waiting for the pain, the sharp little stab of the candle flame.
