Inkspell
as “the Prince of Sighs” since his son’s untimely death.
     
    Violante, “Her Ugliness”
    The unhappy wife of Cosimo, daughter of the Adderhead, mother of Jacopo — the heir to the realms of both Lombrica and Argenta.
Balbulus
    An illuminator (illustrator), brought to the library of the Castle of Ombra by Violante.
Brianna
    The willful daughter of Roxane and Dustfinger, maid to Her Ugliness.
Cosimo the Fair
    The deceased son of the Laughing Prince.
     
    At Roxane’s Farm
Roxane
    Dustfinger’s beautiful wife, formerly a minstrel who now grows herbs for the healers.
Jehan
    The son of Roxane and her deceased second husband.
Jink
    Another home marten.
9
In Argenta
At the infirmary
The Barn Owl
    The physician who looked after Dustfinger when he was a child.
In the Castle of Night
    The Adderhead, also known as “the Silver Prince”
    A warmongering tyrant who fears only death itself. Capricorn and his fire-raisers were in his pay.
Slasher
    Formerly Capricorn’s fire-raiser, now in the Adderhead’s service.
    The Piper, also known as “Silvernose”
    Formerly Capricorn’s fire-raiser, he, too, now sings his dark songs for the Adderhead.
Firefox
    Capricorn’s successor, chief bodyguard and herald to the Adderhead.
Taddeo
    The librarian of the Castle of Night.
10

    Chapter 1 – Words Made to Measure
     
    He has been trying to sing
    Love into existence again
And he has failed.
    – Margaret Atwood, “Orpheus 2”, Eating Fire
     
    Twilight was gathering, and Orpheus still wasn’t here.
    Farid’s heart beat faster, as it always did when day left him alone with the darkness. Curse that Cheeseface! Where could he be? The birds were falling silent in the trees, as if the approach of night had stifled their voices, and the nearby mountains were turning black. You might have thought the setting sun had singed them. Soon the whole world would be black as pitch, even the grass beneath Farid’s bare feet, and the ghosts would begin to whisper. Farid knew only one place where he felt safe from them: right behind Dustfinger, so close that he could feel his warmth. Dustfinger wasn’t afraid of the night. He liked it.
    “Hearing them again, are you?” he asked, as Farid pressed close to him. “How many times do I have to tell you? There aren’t any ghosts in this world. One of its few advantages.” Dustfinger stood there leaning against an oak tree, looking down the lonely road. In the distance, a streetlamp cast its light on the cracked asphalt where a few houses huddled by the roadside.
    There were scarcely a dozen of them, standing close together as if they feared the night as much as Farid.
    The house where Cheeseface lived was the first on the road. There was a light on behind one of its windows. Dustfinger had been staring at it for more than an hour. Farid had often tried standing motionless like that, but his limbs simply would not keep still.
    “I’m going to find out where he is!”
    “No, you’re not!” Dustfinger’s face was as expressionless as ever, but his voice gave him away.
    Farid heard the impatience in it .. and the hope that refused to die, although it had been disappointed so often before. “Are you sure he said Friday?” “Yes, and this is Friday, right?”
    Dustfinger just nodded, then pushed his shoulder-length hair back from his face. Farid had tried growing his own hair long, but it was so curly, tangled, and unruly that in the end he cut it short again with his knife.
    “Friday outside the village at four o’clock,’ that’s what he said. While that dog of his growled at me as if it really craved a nice crunchy boy to eat!” The wind blew through Farid’s thin sweater, 11
     
    and he rubbed his arms, shivering. A good warm fire, that’s what he’d have liked now, but Dustfinger wouldn’t let him light so much as a match in this wind. Four o’clock .. Cursing quietly, Farid looked up at the darkening sky. He knew it was well past four, even without a watch.
    “I tell you,

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