I loved Inkheart when I was younger, and when I reread it recently for nostalgia's sake, I thought that the whole Dustfinger-Resa-Mo thing read somewhat like pre-OT3. This is my attempt at figuring out how the relationship goes from pre-OT3 to actual OT3. This takes place after Inkheart and disregards canon from Inkspell and Inkdeath (i.e. - Roxanne and her children don't exist). Enjoy (if there's anyone else out there that wants Inkheart threesomes)!
Disclaimer: I don't own Inkheart.
The knock on Elinor's door at dinner was unexpected. Despite the fact that they'd been living there safely for over a month, no one in the house did well with unexpected knocks. Meggie jumped, Elinor gripped her silverware so tightly her knuckles went white, and Darius quickly disappeared into the library. Mo looked over at Resa for a long moment, then he stood and walked to the door. Elinor had installed a peep hole, which Mo peered through before quickly opening the door.
"Please help," Farid begged, struggling to support Dustfinger's weight draped over his shoulder. Resa, who had been watching from the kitchen doorway, scurried forward immediately and tucked herself under Dustfinger's arm, helping Farid into the house.
"What's wrong?" Mo demanded, taking Dustfinger's weight from Farid so he could slip out from under him.
"He's ill," Farid replied, twisting his hands together worriedly. "We were nearby and I didn't know where else to go."
"Who's here?" Elinor demanded, leaving the kitchen with Meggie behind her. Catching sight of Farid, she scoffed. "Oh, the fire-eater's boy. Where's your master?"
"Dustfinger's ill," Mo explained. Elinor looked up, just realizing that Mo and Resa were supporting a limp body between the two of them.
"Will he be alright?" Meggie asked, looking concerned. Resa jerked her head subtly towards Farid. Meggie, getting the message, went to his side and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It didn't do much to soften the panic in his eyes, but he did relax a tiny bit.
"He'll be fine," Mo stated reassuringly. "He's got a good immune system." When Resa looked at him in confusion, Mo elaborated, "He got sick all the time when he first came to our world. He came to me for help sometimes. He always got better quickly."
Resa poked Mo in the shoulder and mouthed something to him. "She wants to know how long he's been sick," Mo translated.
"I don't know when he started getting ill," Farid replied. Meggie soothingly rubbed his back. "He's been tired for a while. He wouldn't wake up this morning, and then..." Farid ducked his head. "He didn't know who I was," he admitted.
"Delusional," Mo murmured.
"We weren't too far from here, so I thought you could help," Farid added. "Will you help?"
"Of course we will!" Meggie cried. Resa nodded firmly as well.
"I'll take Darius upstairs to help me get two spare rooms ready," Elinor added. "Meggie, go get Farid something to eat. The boy looks like he's going to fall over."
"Come on," Meggie told Farid gently, ushering him into the kitchen.
"We'll bring Dustfinger to our room," Mo offered, knowing Resa would agree. "Elinor, do you have a thermometer anywhere?"
"The bathroom cabinet," Elinor replied. She paused for a moment, then added, "Are you sure we can trust him?"
"Does he look like he can hurt anyone right now?" Mo countered, helping Resa bring Dustfinger to their room. Mo helped Dustfinger onto the bed while Resa darted into the bathroom, wetting a towel and placing it on Dustfinger's forehead.
Do you think he'll be alright? Resa signed worriedly. Mo nodded.
"He'll be fine," he replied. He'd never actually seen Dustfinger so ill, but he couldn't let himself think that Dustfinger might not be fine. He'd been a part of Mo's life for nine years, albeit not always a welcome part. Mo wasn't going to let him leave like this.
"Here," Elinor said, bustling into the room and handing Resa a bell. "In case you're alone in here and you need help," she added. Resa nodded, taking the bell and tucking it in her pocket. "I suppose he could use some soup or something? I'll have Darius throw something together." Darius wasn't much of a cook, but he was better than Meggie or Elinor.
"Nothing fancy," Mo cautioned.
Just broth would be best, Resa signed. At Elinor's confusion, she signed it again, more slowly.
"Just a broth," Elinor agreed as she left the room. "I'll go tell Darius." Sometimes, Mo worried that they were using Darius unfairly, but he never seemed particularly upset about it. On the contrary, Darius enjoyed being useful. He stuttered less when he was comfortable, and he was more comfortable when he had something to do. Mo knew that Elinor had some ideas of having Darius read aloud to her once he'd managed to get past his stutter entirely, but Mo was hoping to have talked her out of the notion by that point.
Resa slipped in the door, making Mo jump. He hadn't realized that she'd left. She help the thermometer in her hand, which she gently slid into Dustfinger's mouth. When it beeped, she took a look at it, swallowed hard, then showed the display to Mo.
"Dustfinger always runs a little hot," Mo tried weakly, but both he and Resa knew his current temperature was more than "a little hot."
One of us should go check on Meggie and Farid, Resa signed. Mo nodded.
"You do it," he replied. "I'll stay with Dustfinger."
Resa nodded, laid a soft hand on Dustfinger's cheek for a moment, and pressed a kiss to Mo's lips. Then she slipped quietly out of the room, her soft footsteps padding down the hall. Mo took the towel off Dustfinger's forehead and refreshed it with cool water.
"Hang in there," he murmured, squeezing Dustfinger's shoulder once. There was no response.
Farid wouldn't look up from the table, not even when Meggie put a plate of food in front of him. "Nothing special, just pasta," she said, trying to fill the silence. "Do you want sauce? Or cheese?"
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Farid asked quietly. Meggie didn't have to ask who "he" was; there was only one person on Farid's mind.
"He's like a father to you, isn't he?" Meggie asked. Farid toyed with his food, pushing the pasta around the plate.
"I never had a father," he replied. "I was raised by a bunch of thieves. They treated me like a slave. Dustfinger doesn't." The door opened quietly and Darius slipped into the kitchen, clearly trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Farid didn't even seem to notice him. "What will happen if he dies?"
"He's not going to die," Meggie countered firmly. "He'll be fine. You'll see."
Resa entered the kitchen next. Farid looked up at her with panicked eyes. "How is he?"
Resa looked at Meggie and began signing. Meggie took the hint and translated for Farid. "She says they're doing all that they can," she said. "Mo's with him now."
"Is he going to be alright?" Farid asked desperately. Resa paused for a moment, then nodded. Farid didn't seem to notice her hesitation, but Meggie did. She suddenly felt cold, as if the temperature in the kitchen had dropped. When she'd first seen Dustfinger that night in the rain, she remembered wishing that he would get pneumonia. Now the very idea made her feel sick herself. Dustfinger wasn't her favorite person in the world, but she didn't want him to die.
"Resa?" Darius called. Resa smiled softly at Meggie and Farid before going over to Darius, answering whatever question he had. Meggie put a hand on Farid's shoulder.
"See?" she told him quietly. "Dustfinger will be fine. Now eat your pasta."
Resa and Darius were signing in the kitchen, completely silent as Darius explained something to Resa. He had learned sign language quickly and was, second to Resa, the best at using it. Meggie supposed that he liked the fact that he couldn't stammer as he signed. Sign language could also be useful when a conversation wasn't supposed to be overheard. Meggie had a feeling that part of the reason why Darius was signing was so Farid wouldn't hear the conversation. They were turned away from the table, so Meggie couldn't catch every word, but she could tell that Darius was asking about a broth to feed Dustfinger and Resa was giving him some sort of suggestion for it.
A few moments later, Resa noticed Meggie watching. Meggie almost turned away, embarrassed to be caught, but Resa signed something clearly meant for her: Do your best to keep Farid out of Dustfinger's room. Meggie nodded quickly. Resa smiled before flitting out of the room, holding a mug in her hands. Meggie turned back to Farid, who had barely touched his pasta.
"You'll get sick too, if you don't take care of yourself," she warned. "Eat."
"I'm not hungry," Farid mumbled. Meggie put her hand on his forehead in concern, but he didn't feel warm. "I want to see Dustfinger."
"You need to eat first," Meggie countered. She wondered if this was what Mo felt like when she would stubbornly refuse to eat. "At least half of that."
Farid didn't look especially pleased, but he began eating bites of pasta in between shifting it around on his plate. By the time he was about half done, he looked like he was about to fall asleep.
"Elinor has a bedroom set up for you," Meggie told Farid quietly, taking the plate and putting it in the fridge, figuring that Farid could finish it the next day. "Did you bring any clothes?" Meggie hadn't seen Dustfinger's duffel bag when Farid brought him inside.
"No," Farid mumbled. Blinking, he added, "I want to see Dustfinger."
"You look ready to fall asleep right here!" Meggie protested. "You can see him in the morning. I'll get one of Mo's shirts for you to sleep in." Farid seemed too tired to protest any more, following Meggie to the room Elinor had gotten ready for him. He fell asleep almost instantly, still wearing his clothes. Meggie tiptoed out of the room.
"Is Farid asleep?" Mo asked as he met Meggie in the hall. She nodded.
"I think he left all their things where they last were," she added. "Maybe we can go get them tomorrow."
"Elinor will probably drive you," Mo replied, seeming somewhat distracted. Meggie frowned.
"Are you alright?" she asked. Mo blinked, looking at her.
"I stayed up late last night fixing some of Elinor's books," he admitted. "Your mother told me to go to bed. Elinor gave her a bell to ring if she needs help."
"Do you think Dustfinger will be alright?" Meggie asked. Mo smiled, but Meggie could tell it was forced.
"He'll be fine," he replied. Meggie nodded, stepping aside and letting Mo go to the room next to Farid's, where he and Resa were going to stay until Dustfinger was out of their room.
Mo had said that Dustfinger would be fine, but Meggie knew something about her father: He was a terrible liar.
The ringing of a bell interrupted Mo's dream. He huffed and rolled over, still mostly asleep.
"Mo!" a voice cried. Mo groaned as he looked up. Meggie was in the doorway. "Mo, the bell!"
It took a moment, then Mo remembered. Resa had the bell, in case she needed help. In seconds, Mo jumped out of bed and tore out of his room. He could hear pained moans as he got closer to the room, and he knew they were from Dustfinger.
Dustfinger was writhing on the bed, crying out. Resa was desperately trying to hold him, stroking his hair and wiping at his forehead with a wet towel. Mo rushed forward, sitting next to Dustfinger on the bed.
"Silvertongue," Dustfinger gasped, his eyes locking on Mo. "Why am I on fire, Silvertongue? I never burned before you brought me out of the book."
"You're not burning," Mo told him, taking Dustfinger's hand in his. "You're ill, Dustfinger."
"Is he alright?" a new voice demanded.
"Farid-" Meggie protested.
"Meggie, get Farid away from here," Mo called without looking up. He didn't have time to concern himself with the boy.
"Silvertongue," Dustfinger gasped. "Silvertongue, please-"
"You'll be alright," Mo soothed as Resa stroked Dustfinger's hair. "You'll be alright."
"Are we safe from Capricorn?" Dustfinger demanded weakly. "He mustn't get the book." Mo looked up at Resa. This must have been the delirium that Farid had mentioned.
"We're safe from Capricorn," Mo assured Dustfinger. "Don't worry."
"Why am I burning?" Dustfinger whispered miserably. "Silvertongue, can't you make it stop?"
"Have a drink," Mo urged, helping Resa pull Dustfinger into a somewhat more upright position. He helped Dustfinger take a few swallows from a glass of water. When Mo helped Dustfinger back into lying down, half on Resa's lap, Resa laid a fresh towel on his forehead.
"Resa," Dustfinger gasped, suddenly unaware of Mo's presence. "Resa, I'm so sorry I can't help you. I'm so sorry." Gently, Resa laid a finger over Dustfinger's lips, a silent shush. "I'll take you away from here someday, I promise," he added. "I promise, you won't be his slave forever." Resa leaned down, pressing a kiss to Dustfinger's temple. She stroked his hair lightly as he continued to mumble about how sorry he was until he finally fell asleep.
Resa pulled out a scrap of paper with one hand, still doing her best to soothe Dustfinger with the other. Hospital? she wrote. Mo shook his head.
"If he gets any worse, maybe," he replied. "But he has no identification, Resa. What are we supposed to tell the doctors? Dustfinger isn't from this world."
The concern was evident in Resa's eyes as she pressed another soft kiss to Dustfinger's forehead. "Why don't you go get some rest?" Mo asked her quietly. Resa shook her head. "I'll stay with him," Mo offered, but Resa still didn't move.
"Mo?" Meggie called quietly from the door. Mo turned to see her standing in the doorway, Farid behind her. Mo wasn't sure if they'd been there the whole time or if they left before when he asked them too. "Farid wants to see Dustfinger."
"He's sleeping," Mo replied quietly, standing and crossing to the door. "You can see him, but you have to be quiet."
Farid rushed forward immediately, taking Mo's spot next to Dustfinger on the bed. Meggie crossed her arms tightly over her chest the way she did when she was upset.
"Is he really sick?" she asked quietly. Mo nodded.
"Your mother and I are doing all we can. He'll be alright, Meggie. Dustfinger is stronger than you give him credit for."
"Why don't you want Farid to see him?" Meggie asked. Mo sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Farid sees Dustfinger as a father. I wouldn't want you to have to see me if I were like this. Farid shouldn't have to worry about him this much."
"Children worry about their parents just as much as their parents worry about them," Meggie told Mo in a matter-of-fact voice. Mo chuckled humorlessly.
"I know, Meggie. You should go to sleep. See if you can bring Farid with you, he listens to you."
"Only sometimes," Meggie muttered, but she did step up next to Farid and say something to him quietly that, after a few moments of urging, got him to leave the room. Mo closed the door behind them and went back to the bed.
"Are you sure you don't want to sleep?" he asked Resa. She shook her head, then pointed at Mo. "I slept before," Mo dismissed, taking Dustfinger's hand. "We can stay awake together, then."
Resa leaned over Dustfinger and kissed Mo gently. He did his best to offer her a smile, but he knew it didn't look real.
Between then, Dustfinger mumbled softly in his fevered dreams.
Farid didn't know why he was being kept from Dustfinger, and to tell the truth, nor did he care.
Silvertongue ("Call me Mo," the man had said, but it wasn't nearly impressive enough a name for a man who had charmed Farid straight out of the pages of his book) or Resa must have told Meggie to keep him away from Dustfinger, as she did everything in her power to distract him whenever he asked how Dustfinger was doing. But she was reading, and both Silvertongue and Resa were asleep, so Farid took the opportunity to slip into Dustfinger's room. It was incredibly easy; the door wasn't even closed all the way. Farid was silent as he slipped inside.
Dustfinger was lying on the bed, his eyes closed. The second Farid stepped in, they flew open.
"I was wondering when you'd make your way in here," Dustfinger stated hoarsely, trying to push himself into an upright position. Farid rushed forward, pressing down on his shoulders. Dustfinger didn't fight, lying back down on the pillows and looking up at Farid. "What took you so long?" he asked.
"Silvertongue wouldn't let me in!" Farid cried. Dustfinger nodded, not looking surprised.
"Probably thought it was for the best," he replied. "It'll be much more interesting for you here if you're out with the others."
"I want to stay with you!" Farid protested. Dustfinger waved a weak hand towards the door.
"Spend some time with Meggie," he suggested, a distinctly teasing lilt to his voice. "Or get one of them to teach you to read. The old woman would probably be best."
"Elinor," Farid supplied. Dustfinger nodded.
"Yes, whatever. Put on a fire-eater's show for them. I never got a chance to finish Meggie's."
"I don't have your bag," Farid admitted. "I forgot it when I brought you here."
"Have one of them drive you to get it," Dustfinger countered. "You like those metal monsters. Maybe one of them will teach you how to drive one yourself when you're old enough."
"What about Gwin?" Farid asked. Dustfinger shrugged.
"If he's there, bring him back. Take Meggie with you, he seems to like her. He doesn't bite her, at least."
"I don't want to go!" Farid protested. "I want to stay with you!"
"Farid-" Dustfinger began, then an odd expression came across his face. Farid looked at him nervously.
"Are you alright?" he asked. Dustfinger, opened his mouth to respond, then his upper body convulsed on the mattress and he began making a horrible choking noise. Farid stared at him, petrified with fear. What could he do? He had no idea what was happening. How could he help?
"Silvertongue!" Farid yelled, finding his tongue and doing the first thing he could think of. "Silvertongue, help!"
Silvertongue and Resa reached the room in seconds. Farid stumbled backwards from the bed as Silvertongue rushed forward, turning Dustfinger on his side and pulling him somewhat upright. Resa shoved the trashcan in front of Dustfinger just in time. Farid watched, feeling frozen in place, as Dustfinger vomited into the can. He had been choking on his own vomit before, Farid realized. He had felt so weak he couldn't even lift his head.
Dustfinger looked as pale as a ghost by the time the vomiting ended. Resa disappeared with the trashcan as Silvertongue gently wiped Dustfinger's face with a cloth. He seemed to have almost forgotten about Farid until he turned around and saw him.
"You should go," he told him gently.
"Let the boy do what he wants," Dustfinger croaked. Silvertongue looked at him for a moment before backing off. Farid stepped up to the bed slowly. "You can stay with me if you want, but it won't be very interesting," Dustfinger told Farid. "But get the bags sometime today, alright?"
"Alright," Farid replied. He looked over at Silvertongue. "Can I stay now?"
"Go ahead," Silvertongue sighed. Farid curled up at the foot of Dustfinger's bed like a cat. Dustfinger laughed hoarsely.
"What did I ever do to deserve someone so loyal?" he asked quietly. Silvertongue chuckled.
"I don't know," he replied. Farid laid his head against Dustfinger's legs, closing his eyes. He felt a hand ruffle his hair and knew it had to be Silvertongue's.
Farid cracked open an eye when he heard someone step through the door, but it was only Resa. She made her strange gestures, which Silvertongue must have understood, given that he responded to them. It didn't take long before Farid closed his eye again, unable to keep track of one side of the conversation. Dustfinger had already fallen asleep and, after a few moments, so did Farid.
Resa was with Dustfinger when his fever broke. He was sleeping, murmuring softly with his brow furrowed. Resa ran her hands through his hair and wished she could speak to reassure him. During his more lucid moments, Resa had tried teaching him a bit of sign language, but she could never be quite sure if he would remember later. Either way, it didn't help when Dustfinger slept.
Then Dustfinger let out a soft breath and started to sweat. Resa closed her eyes in relief, pressing a kiss to his forehead. For a moment, she considered ringing her bell to call Mo, but she decided against it. He was sleeping, and she had no reason to wake him.
Dustfinger blinked slowly, opening his eyes. "Resa," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "It's so hot in here." Resa leaned over and pulled the quilt off of Dustfinger, leaving him covered with the sheet only. "What time is it?" Dustfinger asked. Resa pointed to the clock. Dustfinger looked over at it, then turned back to Resa. "You know I don't understand those things," he told her. Resa had tried to explain clocks to Dustfinger before, but he always mixed up which hand meant what. She held up four fingers, then flashed ten and two more. "Four twelve?" Dustfinger asked. Resa nodded. "It's early, then," he remarked. "Why aren't you sleeping?"
Resa raised her eyebrows, poking Dustfinger's chest lightly. "Because of me?" he asked. Resa nodded. "Why, Resa, I didn't know you cared." Resa laughed, covering her mouth with a hand. Dustfinger looked very pleased with himself. She knew he loved making her laugh. "You should go to sleep," Dustfinger added. Resa shook her head. "Why not?" Dustfinger asked. Resa poked him again. "Because of me?" Dustfinger asked, looking confused.
Resa fished a pencil stub out of her pocket, grabbing a notebook she had lying on the table. In neat capitals, she wrote, Mo and I have been taking turns watching you.
"Watching me?" Dustfinger repeated. "You didn't have to."
You've been very ill, Resa added. Dustfinger huffed in amusement.
"I've noticed," he replied. "But you didn't have to watch me. I would have been fine."
Resa stroked Dustfinger's hair lightly. She could feel him leaning into it. She pressed a feather-light kiss to his forehead. "You should go to sleep," he whispered. Resa shook her head. "I'll wake you if anything goes wrong," he offered. Resa shook her head again. Dustfinger sighed. Resa could see that he was about to fall asleep himself. She stroked his hair again, pulling it away from his face where it had gotten stuck with sweat. Within minutes, Dustfinger was asleep.
Resa sighed, continuing to gently comb Dustfinger's hair through her fingers. She didn't understand why he had been so confused by the fact that she and Mo had been watching him. Of course they would keep an eye on him. Dustfinger had only been alone in the room once since he arrived, before Farid snuck in. After he proceeded to nearly choke on his own vomit, Resa and Mo had decided that one of them would have to be with Dustfinger at all times. Darius had taken a shift at one point too, and Elinor had sat with Resa occasionally, but no matter who it was, Dustfinger wasn't being left alone. And, for some reason, it seemed he couldn't understand why.
The door opened quietly. Resa looked up to see Elinor walk in. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd check in on my way to the library," she told Resa. "How's the fire-eater?"
His fever broke, Resa signed. Elinor nodded.
"Good." Elinor looked as if she were going to say something else, but she held her tongue. "Shall I take a turn watching him?" she finally asked. "You look so exhausted, dear, and I couldn't bear to wake Mortimer when he's gotten so little sleep recently. I'll fetch a book and read in here."
Thank you, Resa signed. Elinor patted Resa's shoulder, then disappeared. Resa smoothed Dustfinger's hair away from his face, carefully avoiding touching his scars. She knew from past experience that he didn't like having his scars touched. She gently pressed a kiss to his forehead, then stood when she heard Elinor's footsteps outside the door.
"I got a lovely copy of Shakespeare's sonnets," Elinor stated as she entered the room. "Beautiful binding too. Not as beautiful as your husband does, but in pristine condition, so I don't need his help with it yet." Elinor stepped forward, sitting next to the bed. "I'll call you and Mo if anything happens. Now you go get some sleep, Resa, dear. You look about ready to collapse."
Thank you, Resa signed, going to the door. She spared one last glance for Dustfinger on the bed, then slipped out.
Mo was sleeping when Resa stepped into the room, but his eyes cracked open when she slid into bed. "Is it my turn to watch Dustfinger?" he asked, yawning.
Elinor's with him, Resa signed. His fever broke.
"That's good," Mo replied, clearly still half asleep. "Elinor's with him, you said?"
She offered, Resa signed. She said she couldn't sleep. Mo yawned, curling around Resa.
"Okay," he replied, his eyes drifting shut. Resa kissed the edge of his mouth gently, wondering with some amusement whether he'd remember any of this conversation when he woke up the next morning.
Resa curled up on the bed, resting her head against Mo's chest. She could feel his steady heartbeat and feel his chest rising and falling with every breath. Some nights, that was the only thing that tethered Resa to reality, on the nights where it seemed that perhaps this was all a dream and she'd wake up back in the book, or worse, back with Capricorn. That night, Resa knew where she was, but Mo's chest was comfortable and the heartbeat reassuring. She closed her eyes and, almost immediately, fell asleep.
The room Dustfinger was staying in was a step up from the attic Elinor had stuffed him in the last time. He had a feeling it belonged to Resa and Silvertongue, given the books and notebooks scattered around, but Dustfinger had to admit that any room in Elinor's house was likely to be covered in books. He tried to read one at one point out of boredom, but the type was too small and quickly gave him a headache. Inkheart, Farid had assured him, was safe in his duffel bag and hadn't been touched. Dustfinger didn't have much interest in other books.
From the way the bed was angled, Dustfinger had a clear view out the window. He could see Darius tending to the garden, seeming much more at home than he'd ever been with Capricorn. Elinor would bring books outside sometimes and read on the bench. When the sun set, Dustfinger saw Farid give Meggie a fire-eater's show. It wasn't perfect, but Dustfinger did have to admit that it wasn't bad. Meggie seemed to enjoy it.
Sometimes - fairly rarely, but occasionally - Dustfinger saw Silvertongue and Resa walking in the yard, arm in arm. Silvertongue would pick flowers for Resa and tuck them behind her ear. He'd bow to her playfully, and Dustfinger would see Resa cover her mouth with a hand as she laughed. It wasn't right, of course, but Dustfinger felt a twinge of jealousy every time he saw Silvertongue make Resa laugh. It was stupid of him, he knew. Silvertongue was her husband. Of course he would make her happy. And yet, for five years Dustfinger had been the only one able to coax a laugh out of Resa. He had visited Resa in Capricorn's village whenever he could, and where had Silvertongue been? It wasn't a fair comparison - Silvertongue couldn't have known that Darius had read Resa out of the book - but a petty part of Dustfinger couldn't help but think it. Resa had wormed her way into Dustfinger's heart, and when she returned to Silvertongue and he tried to push her back out, she refused to budge.
"Dustfinger?" Farid peeked his head into the room. When he saw that Dustfinger was awake, he looked absurdly eager. "Dustfinger, I gave Meggie a fire-eater's show last night! Did you see?"
"I did. You should try adding in another ball when you juggle. I think you're ready for it." Farid's face lit up at the almost-praise, the closest Dustfinger ever really got to the real thing. "Meggie looked like she enjoyed it," Dustfinger added teasingly.
Farid flushed immediately. When it came to Meggie, it was easy to make him flustered. "She said it was even better than yours, but I don't think she was telling the truth," he admitted. Dustfinger shrugged.
"Mine got interrupted when Capricorn's men came after her father, so she might have liked yours more," he replied. After a moment, he added, "You could stay with her, if you like."
"Where are you going?" Farid demanded immediately. Dustfinger sighed.
"I'm leaving. Tonight."
"Tonight?" Farid repeated, his eyes going wide. "But why? Did something happen?"
"We've been here long enough as it is," Dustfinger replied, looking around the room furtively. "I've heard rumors of another Reader in this area. Maybe they can read me back into my book."
"Are you well enough to leave?" Farid asked. Dustfinger nodded.
"I'm fine," he replied shortly. He doubted anyone else would see it that way, but Dustfinger felt well enough to walk around the room, so he decided he was well enough to travel. Resa would scold him if she knew, but Dustfinger told himself he didn't care.
"Are you sure we can't stay a while longer?" Farid asked. Dustfinger shrugged.
"You can stay as long as you like," he replied. "I'm leaving tonight, but you don't have to."
Farid scowled. "I'm not going to stay here without you," he retorted. Dustfinger would never admit that he was relieved to hear it. "But don't you think we should wait a little longer? Until you're better?"
"You mother worse than Silvertongue," Dustfinger muttered. "I already told you, you don't have to come with me if you don't want to."
"And I already told you, I'm going with you if you go," Farid countered defiantly. Dustfinger nodded.
"Alright. I want to leave tonight, after everyone goes to sleep. If Silvertongue and Resa still want someone to sit with me, volunteer to do it yourself."
Farid looked down at his bare feet. "I don't like lying to them," he admitted. "Especially not-" He cut himself off, but Dustfinger knew he was going to say Meggie.
"It's not lying," he replied. "Just don't say anything about it to them. You're not saying anything untrue if you don't say anything at all."
Farid scowled, but Dustfinger knew he wouldn't breathe a word to the others. "Where do you want to go?"
"Towards the water," Dustfinger replied. "The cities are there. We can start looking for a Reader there."
"None of them have gotten you into the book yet," Farid said tentatively. "What if-"
"I want to go home, Farid," Dustfinger interrupted. "I'll keep looking for a way until I find one."
"You could make a new home," Farid suggested tentatively. Dustfinger shook his head.
"It's been over nine years. I know you don't miss your story, but I do. I'm not meant for this world."
Farid opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, then he closed it again. "You want to leave tonight?"
"Yes," Dustfinger replied, nodding. "We'll leave after everyone else is asleep."
Farid ducked his head. "I'll get your bag ready," he replied, then he scurried out of the room. Dustfinger sighed, leaning back on the pillows. Farid would be happy if he stayed, quite possibly even happier than he'd be if he went along with Dustfinger. But whenever Dustfinger thought about urging the boy to stay behind, his selfishness reared its ugly head and refused to let him. Dustfinger liked Farid. If he chose to leave, Dustfinger would let him go, but he wouldn't push Farid away.
There were footsteps coming down the hall, towards Dustfinger's room. He curled up onto his side and immediately began to fake sleep, not wanting to talk to anyone. The door opened, but no one entered. After a moment, Dustfinger heard a soft sigh, then the door clicked shut. The footsteps padded away.
It had been Silvertongue, Dustfinger knew. He'd recognized the footsteps and the sigh. If Farid stayed, Silvertongue would welcome him with open arms, but Dustfinger doubted the same sentiment would be extended to him. He sighed, curling more tightly into himself.
Dustfinger would leave that night and, if luck were on his side, he'd go back into the book before he ever had to see Silvertongue or his family again. He pretended that thought didn't hurt quite as much as it did.
Meggie hadn't meant to eavesdrop. She really hadn't. But when she'd passed the library on her way down for breakfast, she'd heard Mo and Elinor arguing, and she couldn't help but slow down a bit to figure out what they were fighting about.
"He has nowhere else to go, Elinor!" Mo protested.
"Well, it's not as if he seems to care!" Elinor retorted. "He seems perfectly happy to wander from place to place, and I rather think we should let him."
"And what about the boy?" Mo countered. "I know you've taken a liking to Farid. He'll follow Dustfinger wherever he goes."
"Mortimer, please. It's not as if your fire-eater friend would even want to stay with us!"
Meggie felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to see Resa behind her. What are they arguing about? she signed.
"Dustfinger, I think," Meggie whispered. "Mo wants him to stay here, but Elinor doesn't. Maybe."
Resa nodded, then pushed open the doors to the library. Meggie snuck in behind her. Mo and Elinor were standing in the middle of the room arguing, while Darius stood in a corner, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Resa, will you help me convince Elinor that we should give Dustfinger a place to stay?" Mo demanded.
"Oh, come now, Resa," Elinor protested. "You know the man. Even if we offered, he'd never take us up on it."
Shouldn't we offer it to him first? Resa signed, looking pointedly at Elinor.
"Are you sure we can trust him?" Elinor asked. "He's betrayed us before, in case you've forgotten."
"Dustfinger betrayed us for the book," Mo replied. "He has the book now. He's got no reason to betray us."
"Capricorn is dead anyway," Meggie added, stepping forward. "And Dustfinger would never work with Basta."
"Basta would never work with him," Mo muttered.
Dustfinger won't betray us, Resa signed, looking confident. Meggie had the feeling that, if nothing else, Dustfinger would never betray Resa, which she supposed made them all safe by extension. He has no reason to do so, and there's no one to betray us to.
"But are you sure we can trust him?" Elinor protested.
"Um..." All eyes turned to Darius, who immediately ducked his head and took a step back. Resa made an encouraging gesture, but it didn't help.
"Come on, Darius," Elinor sighed. "We're listening, if you want to talk."
For some reason, that seemed to help Darius more than anything else. "I just wanted to say that, um, Dustfinger was always kinder than anyone else in the village. And he didn't really get along with anyone there. They, um, they shut him up in the cowsheds sometimes." Resa nodded her agreement. "And B-Basta really didn't like him. They'd never work together. I don't think we have anything to worry about." Darius looked around, then ducked his head again. "Just thought I should say it," he mumbled.
"Well, fine," Elinor huffed. "If you all are so adamant about it, I suppose I'll trust the fire-eater. But I still don't think he'll want to stay."
"You could call him by his name," Meggie muttered. Elinor rolled her eyes.
"I don't think Dustfinger will want to stay," she stated pointedly.
Ask him! Resa signed, her motions jagged and irritated.
"At least he could have a place here if he needs a spot to stay," Mo offered. "Come on, Elinor. It's your house, but I really think-"
"If I don't ask him, you'll all be angry with me for weeks," Elinor huffed. "And you can tell me it's my house all you like, Mortimer, but we both know it's as much yours as mine. All of you live here, so I suppose it's everyone's decision."
"Does that mean Dustfinger can stay?" Meggie asked brightly. "Farid too?"
Elinor sighed. "Yes, I suppose they can stay. As long as they keep all fire out of the house. I don't want to see either one inside with so much as a lit match."
"Can I tell them?" Meggie eagerly asked.
"Yes, go ahead," Elinor replied, waving a hand. Meggie immediately ran out of the library, running upstairs to Farid's room. She couldn't wait to tell him that he could stay. Meggie had enjoyed having someone her age around, and she liked Farid. She forgot to knock in her excitement, pushing the door open-
And the room was empty.
Meggie knew what happened the second she saw the empty room, but she ran back downstairs anyway, down to Dustfinger's room. Perhaps Farid was there. Perhaps Meggie's assumption was wrong.
But that room was empty too, and Meggie knew what had happened.
"Meggie?" Mo asked when Meggie reentered the library. "Meggie, what's wrong?"
Meggie bit down on her lip. Resa walked over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to Meggie's temple. Meggie could see in her eyes that she'd already figured out what Meggie was there to say.
"Dustfinger and Farid left," Meggie said quietly, studying the floor. She couldn't bear to look up. "They're gone."
Mo's grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles had gone white as bone. Resa had a comforting hand on his shoulder, but there was only so much she could do.
"He shouldn't have left," Mo muttered. "He wasn't well enough. Why didn't Farid keep him from leaving?"
Farid would do anything Dustfinger asked him to, you know that, Resa signed. Mo sighed.
"I know. It's not his fault." Mo would never admit in as many words that he was worried, but Resa wasn't having any trouble seeing it anyway.
He would have gone somewhere he could find another Reader, Resa signed. He still wants to go home.
"He dies in the end, Resa," Mo said quietly. Resa ducked her head. She knew that already, Mo and Meggie had told her everything. "That man is still in there, waiting for him."
But Capricorn is gone, Resa countered. It was still a cruel world without him, but from what I heard from the others, it was less cruel than it had been.
"What is Dustfinger going to do with Farid?" Mo asked as if he hadn't seen Resa's signs. She wondered if he actually had. "Can he even bring the boy into the book? He's not meant to be there."
Dustfinger's not meant to be here, but you brought him here fairly easily, Resa signed dryly.
"What if he finds a Reader like Darius, who sends him back wrong?" Mo added. Resa sighed silently, leaning back in her seat. Mo was caught up in his own worry too much to notice anyone else's input. He had always been prone to that when he was worried. Resa remembered when she was pregnant with Meggie and Mo would pace frantically though the living room, worried about anything that could possibly go wrong. The best thing to do, she'd learned, was just to let Mo get it out of his system.
"Even if he really does want to go back, damn the consequences, he shouldn't have left yet," Mo declared. "He's still ill. He's in no fit shape to be wandering around. Just because his fever broke doesn't mean he's back to normal."
Resa gently ran a hand through Mo's hair. He sighed. "He didn't even tell us, Resa," he said quietly. "If he wanted to leave, why didn't he say something? He didn't even leave a note when he left." Resa just ran her fingers through Mo's hair again. "And we have no idea where he is," Mo added, slamming a hand into the steering wheel with sudden anger.
He couldn't have gotten far, Resa signed. We'll find him, don't worry.
Silence filled the car as Mo drove it slowly down thin, winding lanes. Mo drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Whatever he was going to say, he had been bursting to say it for quite a while. "Farid told me Dustfinger was in love with you," he finally said in a quiet voice. "Do you think he is?"
Resa froze, then she shrugged. To tell the truth, she'd always rather suspected it herself. For a long time, she had been one of the few friendly faces Dustfinger saw.
"Are you in love with him too?" Mo asked quietly.
Resa twisted her hands in her lap, then shrugged again. Dustfinger had been the only friendly face she saw as well. It was only natural that she fall a little bit in love with him. She wondered if Mo could read all of that in her shrug.
Are you? Resa signed. Mo sighed, staring ahead at the road.
"I don't know," he replied. "And before you ask, I don't know if he's in love with me either. I suppose we could ask Farid when we find them. He seems to know Dustfinger better than either of us."
Resa put a hand on Mo's shoulder, gently massaging it with her fingers. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned it off with a deep sigh.
"This is where Elinor and Meggie took Farid when he went back for the bag," Mo said, looking out the window. "I thought we could check there first."
Resa pressed a kiss to Mo's temple. We'll find him, she signed. I promise.
"I love you," Mo whispered, leaning over and kissing Resa softly.
I have loved you since the day we met, and I will love you every day to come, Resa signed. Mo smiled softly, opening his car door and stepping out. Resa did the same. Mo offered her his hand.
"Shall we go find Dustfinger?" he asked. Resa threaded her fingers through his with a sharp nod. Mo squeezed her hand once, then he led her away from the road, among the trees.
They would find Dustfinger, and they'd bring him back. He couldn't leave their lives that easily.
Dustfinger was close to dozing off when he heard someone traipsing through the woods. Immediately, he shook Farid's shoulder, putting a finger over his lips to keep the boy quiet.
They'd left Elinor's house the night before and walked until morning, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the house as they could. Dustfinger could tell that Farid didn't understand why, but he wasn't about to admit his reasons. His feelings for Silvertongue and Resa were his own business. Dustfinger had thought they were far from any other people, but the footsteps told him he was wrong.
"What is it?" Farid hissed.
"Footsteps," Dustfinger whispered back. "If I tell you to, you need to run."
"And leave you?" Farid demanded incredulously. Dustfinger nodded.
"If I tell you to run, you run."
The footsteps got closer. Dustfinger carefully pulled one of his torches out of his bag. It wasn't much of a weapon, but he could use it as a club if he had to. Farid pulled another one out, looking much more comfortable with it than Dustfinger felt. It didn't seem likely that the footsteps belonged to someone who wanted to do Dustfinger and Farid harm; they were too loud and careless for that. But nor did Dustfinger think it was a coincidence that they were headed straight for him.
Then Silvertongue and Resa stepped into the clearing and really, Dustfinger should have known.
"Silvertongue?" Farid asked, lowering his makeshift club. Dustfinger did the same, but he didn't breathe a word. "How did you find us?"
"This is right by where you came to pick up the bag," Silvertongue replied, amusement in his voice. "It wasn't all that hard."
Resa poked Silvertongue's shoulder and signed something. Dustfinger saw her sign his name, but he didn't recognize any of the other gestures. "Resa says you shouldn't have left yet," Silvertongue translated. "You're not well enough."
"I'm fine," Dustfinger replied shortly. Resa arched an eyebrow and signed something again.
"She says you look too pale to be fine," Silvertongue told him. "I have to agree. Why did you run off?"
"It's not like any of you wanted me to stay," Dustfinger retorted. Silvertongue snorted.
"Actually, this morning we all decided that we'd ask you two if you wanted to stay permanently. You were always too quick to make assumptions, Dustfinger."
Resa signed something again. Dustfinger had to learn what her gestures meant; he'd rather be able to understand her himself rather than depend on Silvertongue for translation. "She wants you to come back with us, at least for now," Silvertongue told Dustfinger. "So do I."
Dustfinger thought about it for a moment, but he was too weak to refuse the offer. "Fine," he stated shortly. Farid looked delighted as he scooped up the bag.
"I'll go get Gwin," he said eagerly.
"We're parked at the same spot Elinor parked last time," Silvertongue told him. "Can you find your way?" Farid nodded. "Then we'll meet you there."
Dustfinger almost called Farid back - he'd been alone with Silvertongue and Resa almost more times than his heart could bear - but he silenced himself before a single word came out. Farid scurried off quickly. Dustfinger looked down, scuffing his shoes on the ground.
"Shall we go back to the car, then?" he asked. Resa stepped forward, a piece of paper in her hands. Dustfinger unfolded it slowly.
We know you love us, he saw, and Dustfinger's suddenly numb fingers dropped the paper.
"I-" Dustfinger began, taking a step backwards. "I don't-"
"Read the rest," Silvertongue said quietly, picking up the paper and pressing it into Dustfinger's hands. They were shaking almost too badly for him to hold it. Dustfinger's eyes flickered from Silvertongue to Resa, then he looked down at the paper.
We know you love us. It's alright. We think we might love you too. Would you stay long enough for us to figure it out?
"You think..." Dustfinger whispered. Silvertongue nodded.
"We're pretty sure," he replied. Resa stepped forward and took Dustfinger's hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Will you stay?"
"What if you change your minds?" Dustfinger asked in a hoarse voice. "What if you don't-" He couldn't quite say the words. Silvertongue shrugged.
"I think we do," he replied. "You don't have to stay, of course. You can leave whenever you like. We would prefer to know when it's going to happen, but you're not trapped."
Resa pulled a stub of a pencil from her pocket and plucked the paper from Dustfinger's hands. Flipping it over, she wrote something on the back, then passed it to Dustfinger. We want you to stay forever.
Silvertongue held out a hand to Dustfinger. "Will you at least give it a try?"
It had been over a month since they'd returned to Elinor's, and although Dustfinger was well, he hadn't said a single word about leaving.
Farid wasn't surprised. Dustfinger, Silvertongue, and Resa were still tentative in their relationship, but Farid could clearly see that Dustfinger was happy. Resa was teaching him her language of gestures and Silvertongue recommended books from Elinor's library. Dustfinger's room still had far fewer books than any other bedroom save Farid's, but he did have a bookshelf that was steadily filling up. Elinor had warmed up to Dustfinger on the condition that all of his fire-eating tools remained in the shed outside. Some nights, Dustfinger practiced while Resa and Silvertongue watched. Dustfinger had even struck up a relationship with Darius, who cooked with him occasionally and recommended books a few times. He and Meggie teased each other and acted like family.
For they had become a strange sort of family over the past month. Farid hadn't put a name to it for a long time, not used to the idea, but once Meggie had said it he knew she was right. Dustfinger had been as a father to Farid for a while, but now he had Resa for a mother and a second father in Silvertongue (whose attempts to get Farid to call him Mo grew more and more halfhearted by the day). Elinor was an aunt and Darius almost an uncle, and Meggie... Farid didn't know quite what Meggie was, but he knew he liked her. Dustfinger told him that she liked him too, but Farid wasn't sure if he was just teasing.
"What are you doing?" Meggie asked, sitting next to Farid on the bench outside.
"Writing," Farid replied, showing Meggie the paper he was holding. "Elinor wants me to copy these letters. She says she'll show me how to spell my name first."
"Your name is easy," Meggie replied, sliding closer to Farid. "It's only five letters. F-A-R-I-D."
Farid looked at the letters he'd copied and slowly pointed them out. "F-A-R-I-D," he repeated tentatively. Meggie beamed.
"My name is M-E-G-G-I-E," she told him. Farid pointed out the letters.
"How do you spell Dustfinger's name?" he asked.
"It's a lot longer than yours or mine," Meggie replied. "D-U-S-T-F-I-N-G-E-R."
Farid looked down at the letters, somewhat lost. "Why is it so many?" he asked. Meggie shrugged.
"Names can be any length," she replied. "Here, let me write it for you." Meggie plucked the pencil from Farid's hand and leaned over his lap to write the letters in their proper order. Farid pointedly looked straight ahead, which turned out to be very unhelpful when Dustfinger stepped out of the house with Silvertongue and Resa. He winked at Farid, whose face flamed.
"Don't tease the boy, Dustfinger," Silvertongue admonished softly. Dustfinger laughed, sounding more carefree than Farid thought he'd ever heard him sound before.
"But he's so easy to tease," he replied. Farid glared at him.
"There," Meggie declared, sitting up. "That says Dustfinger." Farid looked down at the string of letters on the paper. They still made little sense to him, but he wasn't about to admit it.
"Meggie, Elinor was wondering where you were," Silvertongue said. "Something about a book she thought you'd like."
"Oh." Meggie stood, looking back at Farid. "Are you still going to teach me how to juggle later?"
"Of course," Farid replied. Meggie beamed, pressed a quick kiss to Farid's cheek, and ran off. Dustfinger promptly burst out laughing at the look on Farid's face. Resa shoved him lightly and signed something.
"I was not as pathetic as he is, you take that back!" Dustfinger cried.
"Yes you were," Farid countered.
"Shut up, Farid," Dustfinger snapped, but there was no venom in his words. Farid grinned wickedly.
"You were lovesick," he teased. Dustfinger glared.
"What did I say to you about making puns?" he demands.
"Not to," Farid replied cheerfully. Silvertongue burst out laughing.
"I'm glad there's someone who can go toe-to-toe with Dustfinger," he stated. Resa signed something, giggling. Silvertongue turned an interesting shade of red.
"You are all horrible people," Dustfinger declared. Farid could see that he was barely restraining himself from laughing.
"We're your horrible people, though," Silvertongue countered, leaning his head on Dustfinger's shoulder. Resa twined her finger's with Dustfinger's.
"You three are disgusting," Farid declared. "I'm going to go find Meggie."
Either Silvertongue or Resa must have said something funny, for Farid heard Dustfinger's laugh echo across the yard as he crossed to the house. He had never heard Dustfinger laugh like that.
"They're so happy," Meggie sighed quietly. She was standing in the doorway, a book in her arms. Farid offered her a tentative smile.
"Are you happy?" he asked. Meggie reached for Farid's hand with a smile of her own.
"I am," she replied. Farid gently brushed a kiss along her knuckles as he'd seen Dustfinger do a few times with Resa (and once with Silvertongue, prompting spluttering and laughter), and Meggie's answering smile was brighter than the sun.