Meggie had inherited her love of books from her father. He often stayed up reading late into the night. This was the end of May, but it was chilly in the old house. She shot off the bed so fast the open book fell to the floor, and she ran barefoot out into the dark corridor. Suddenly, he turned his head, and Meggie felt as if he were looking straight into her eyes. But she stayed put, her heart thudding, and went on gazing out into the night as if the stranger’s stillness had infected her. He stood there motionless, arms crossed over his chest as if that might at least warm him a little. The rain was falling on him, but he ignored it. Only his face gleamed white as he looked up at Meggie. The rain cast a kind of pallor on the darkness, and the stranger was little more than a shadow. She blew out the match in alarm-oh, how well she remembered it, even many years later-and knelt to look out of the window, which was wet with rain. She had five candlesticks on the windowsill, and she was just holding the lighted match to one of the black wicks when she heard footsteps outside. “Fire devours books,” he always said, but she was twelve years old, she surely could be trusted to keep an eye on a couple of candle flames. Mo had forbidden her to light candles at night. She had a box of matches hidden in the drawer of her bedside table. Meggie thought this first whisper sounded a little different from one book to another, depending on whether or not she already knew the story it was going to tell her. Its pages rustled promisingly when she opened it. That night-when so much began and so many things changed forever-Meggie had one of her favorite books under her pillow, and since the rain wouldn’t let her sleep she sat up, rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes, and took it out. Meggie had never called her father anything else. “But it only works for children.” Which made Mo tweak her nose. With Dustfinger dead, and the evil Adderhead now in control, the story in which they are all caught has taken an unhappy turn.Įven Elinor, left alone in the real world, believes her family to be lost – lost between the covers of a book.“night.” “Sometimes, yes,” Meggie had said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that conveys so well the joys, terrors and pitfalls of reading’ Diana Wynne Jones on Inkheart Life in the Inkworld has been far from easy since the extraordinary events of Inkspell, when the story of Inkheart magically drew Meggie, Mo and Dustfinger back into its pages. The third and final book in Cornelia Funke’s internationally celebrated trilogy – magical, thrilling and mesmerising.
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