Chapter One
"You were going to leave without me?"
Dustfinger glanced away from the burbling river flowing steadily beneath the old stone bridge and looked over his shoulder. "Oh no," he groaned, rolling his eyes towards the heavens. He swung back to the river. "You would be better off with them," he muttered, unable to look at the persistent boy's face again. He wanted to go fight Capricorn and Dustfinger allowed it. He wanted to learn to control fire and Dustfinger had taught him. Every time he gave in he hoped the boy would become satisfied and leave him in peace.
"Well, if you're going," Farid replied evenly, "you should probably take this with you."
Dustfinger turned around. Farid was standing there on the rise of the arched bridge with his hand out, holding the final copy of Inkheart. Dustfinger's heart clenched. He strode across the distance and ripped the book from Farid's hands. He stared into dark eyes. Even holding it in his fingers, Dustfinger could hardly believe it. He licked his thumb and forefinger and opened the book, flipping through the pages of his own story. "You stole this?" he asked, fixing Farid with a steely look.
Farid shifted from foot to foot and a grin broke out on his face at the mild appreciation in Dustfinger's voice. "I learned from the best," he said excitedly, "I thought we could find someone, another reader; someone who could send you back!" Farid spoke quickly, hoping to convince Dustfinger to take him too before Dustfinger had the opportunity to protest. He wanted to learn everything Dustfinger had to teach him but it would mean nothing if Dustfinger were not around to teach.
Dustfinger looked up from Inkheart and leveled a penetrating glare at him. "What about that girl? You like her don't you?" he asked knowingly. "You come with me, you may never see her again."
Farid looked down at the paving stones beneath his shoes and fingered the edge of the photo-book. He decided quickly to show Dustfinger, having no wish to allow anything to come between him and his opportunity to see more of the world. "I stole photo from Silvertongue's pocket," he said and held out the leather case so Dustfinger could see the small pictures of Meggie inside.
Dustfinger eyed the pictures of the smiling Meggie, evidence of Farid's affection for the girl. He looked up at Farid's hopeful and expectant expression. Sliding the precious copy of Inkheart into a pocket inside of his coat, he turned away. The pictures showed that Farid cared about Meggie and yet... and yet Farid was leaving her behind, seemingly without a second thought on the matter.
"Well..." Dustfinger hedged. "If I'm going to be saddled with you-"
Dustfinger slid his pack off his shoulder and swung it out to the side as he turned back to the boy. Tossing it through the air, he said, "You can make yourself useful."
Dustfinger turned and scooped Gwin up. "We've got a long walk ahead of us," he said, completely missing the broad, joyful grin that lit up Farid's face but he could practically feel the happiness vibrations radiating out from every footstep he took to keep up. He could not, however, understand why Farid was so insistent on coming with him. It was unfathomable. The fellow book character was completely besotted with the real-world reader child and it made no sense that he would simply drop the girl and go away into the unknown world with him. It was in Dustfinger's nature to travel far and wide, either to look for work or, in the more recent years, to look for long lost copies of Inkheart. Perhaps it was also in Farid's nature to wander.
Dustfinger was broken from his reverie when Gwin began to squirm and attempt to climb down his shoulder. He paused for but a moment and deposited the willful marten on the ground, trusting that she would follow on foot after completing whatever business she'd deemed so necessary.
The brown and white marten hopped a few steps back and stood up on its hind legs. Farid leaned down and lifted her up in his arms, allowing her to climb over his shoulder and disappear into the sack as he'd seen her do many times before with Dustfinger.
He pulled the edges of jacket tighter around his body and shivered. The air here was thick with water and was chilly, like nighttime in the desert. A slight breeze moved between the tall, leafy trees and ruffled the strands of hair not caught up in the hairband. They tickled his neck. Pushing them back over his shoulder Farid considered the blonde man beside him. Dustfinger was an enigmatic man from an entirely different world and a man that possessed a strange and beautiful gift. He could remember watching the performers at the bazaar as a small child, the ones that seemed to breathe fire. He had been in awe of their magic, their mystery, but ever since he'd fallen out of that bejeweled cave and into the rotting stables of Capricorn, Farid knew that their ability had been false and that what Dustfinger had to offer was real. He wiped one sweaty hand on the side of his jacket. He had learned enough already but it was not completely under control. Every once and awhile the heat in his hands would flare up sometimes doing nothing more than causing a sweat and sometimes causing his flesh to burn.
These flare ups seemed a lot like the man who'd taught him the secret. He had the uncanny ability to melt all of Farid's previously held convictions and cause new ones to flare up in their place. One moment the man would be relaxed and easy-going and the next he would be directing his raging temper in Farid's direction. Farid looked at the side of Dustfinger's face.
He was studiously ignoring him, looking down at the dirt road. Farid opened his mouth to ask a question and break the silence when he heard yelling behind them.
"Dustfinger!' came the call.
He turned around to see Silvertongue jogging down the path towards them.
"Dustfinger!" Silvertongue called out again, causing the man in question to turn around at the sound of his name.
They both stood and waited as Silvertongue caught up. Dustfinger fixed the reader with an expectant gaze and waited as the man caught his breath and said, "I promised."
Farid's eyes widened.
Silvertongue's hands flopped out the sides and added, "It's your turn now."
"Great," Dustfinger replied hardly able to believe his own ears.
Farid watched as Dustfinger fumbled around inside of his jacket. Farid could feel his heart dropping in his chest as Dustfinger eagerly pushed the book into Silvertongue's hands. He managed to offer up a half-hearted guilty smile when Silvertongue silently berated him for stealing the book in the first place. But he couldn't really stir up either the shame or the humor necessary for the situation.
Silvertongue opened the book and looked up at Dustfinger. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked.
The Arab's head immediately swung over to Dustfinger. Farid knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was what Dustfinger wanted more than he wanted the breath in his body and he truly did want to make his mentor happy, but there was a small portion of his heart that wanted Dustfinger to say no. The tiniest corner wanted him to stay where Farid could follow and learn for as long as absolutely possible.
"You remember what happens at the end of the book."
Farid did, and he knew Dustfinger knew as well. He couldn't bear thinking about it.
Dustfinger nodded his head quickly. "It's like I told the writer; he doesn't control me," he said confidently. "My fate's in my own hands now."
A small spark appeared in Dustfinger's eyes at the shining surety of returning home. He gave Silvertongue another small nod as a go-ahead. When Silvertongue looked down to find the passage that would send Dustfinger back into the book, Dustfinger finally looked over to Farid. He offered him the brightest smile yet and cupped a hand around the side of his face.
Once more Farid's smile was weak but Dustfinger was in no condition to understand what that meant. He was so focused on regaining his own spark of life that he missed the spark dying in his new apprentice's.
Although sadness weighed heavy on Farid's heart, he couldn't help the fondness that grew around the edges of his being. Dustfinger's fingertips slid down his jaw as the fire-eater focused in on Silvertongue.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Silvertongue joked, "but don't come back, okay?"
Dustfinger smiled and nodded, not at all intent on returning to this world after he'd gotten home. "Do it," he urged, shifting.
Farid briefly considered reminding Dustfinger of the marten he carried in the bag on his shoulder but he readily decided against it. If he gave Gwin back to Dustfinger then the fire-eater would go back in Inkheart and continue on with life as he had before coming out. If he kept the marten however, it was possible that Dustfinger's life would be different enough to prevent the man's death.
Silvertongue opened his mouth and began to read from the book.
"It had been many years since Dustfinger had set eyes on the rolling meadows and the old mill. But it was even more beautiful than he remembered."
Farid's eyelids drooped as the scenery around him began to warp. The breeze in the air was no longer the damp, heavy draft it had been before; it was now a warm touch on his skin, gentle and welcoming.
"The butterflies flitted above the grass and hummingbirds thrummed beside the small open flowers."
Farid's vision blurred at the strength of Silvertongue's spell. He could see a pretty blue bird darted in front of the reader's face, an obvious exchange for the man he'd sent into the story. The little bird fluttered away and, distractedly, Silvertongue glanced down and finished the passage.
"Dustfinger ran his fingers through the tall stalks and smiled. Laughter was on the wind. Feeling at peace for the first time in ages, he walked down the slope, finally on his way to being truly happy."
Mo felt the air around him relax its magical tension and return to the foggy state it had been in previous his spell.
"Father!" he heard Meggie shout behind him. Mo turned to see his wife and his daughter running towards him hand in hand and thought he couldn't be happier than he was at that moment.
"He's gone back," he told them contentedly, snapping Inkheart closed.
"Where's Farid?" Meggie asked with a frown.
Mo frowned as well, glancing about to see where the Arab had gone. The clearing was empty but for him, his wife, his daughter, and the two hummingbirds fighting merrily over the same yellow flower.