This story is dedicated to Larssy and all other Basta fans/fangirls out there...
Nearly a month had passed since Dustfinger surrendered himself to the White Women to save Farid, who had become his son. Now Farid, Fenoglio, and Meggie and her family awaited the words that Orpheus was writing to bring him back.
It was especially difficult for Farid, as he had promised to serve fat old Cheeseface hand and foot while Cheeseface waited for an idea to reveal itself to him. Orpheus claimed that he loved Dustfinger, but Farid knew that he did not, not the way he himself did, at any rate, or Orpheus would find a way to bring him back without asking for reward.
Roxane still would not put faith into Orpheus or his words, nor would she tell him or anyone else where she kept Dustfinger's body. She had suffered too much already from dashed hope and had vowed never to raise them again. From her experience she knew death to be both final and forever.
But Dustfinger's was not a normal death. It was a bargain. And bargains can be broken.
Moodily, Fenoglio and Meggie sat with Farid in the large tent, set apart from the Black Prince's camp in the thick woods. The tent, which was surrounded on all sides by tall, thick trees, was quite high-ceilinged—a very tall man could stand upright in it—and was made of brown and green fabrics that were coarse to the touch.
The tent, dimly lit by hand-fashioned, tin or brass lanterns that hung from the tent's supporting poles, was spacious inside, the walls sloping inward only slightly, the high poles that it rested on holding the ceiling almost flat. It was one of the Black Prince's best tents, and, for Dustfinger's sake, he had lent it to Orpheus.
In shape, the tent was rather like an egg, with one end rounded and blunt and the opposite end pointed and narrow. The narrow part was the front, where the tent flap of a doorway was. The rounded part, where Orpheus had recently shut himself, was separated from the small outer room by a wide, thick length of cloth. He was chasing another sudden but elusive idea that had come to him. A 'revelation' as he had called it this time.
Fenoglio, Meggie, and Farid, refusing to hope but rigid with excitement and impatience, quietly sat on the rugs that made up the floor, their legs folded beneath the low table before them. They had just sent messages with a young and recently-orphaned boy, whom Fenoglio paid well to run errands such as these, to Meggie's parents and to Roxane, asking them to come immediately to the tent where Orpheus was staying.
Two hours had passed since Orpheus shut himself into the tent's large, inner room. Through the curtain, the sound of pacing could be heard, along with the rustling of paper and the tinkle of a pen being dipped into an inkwell. It scratched noisily on the paper. Orpheus was muttering to himself, the way he always did when he wrote.
"Farid!" his voice barked suddenly from the other side of the wall. Farid cringed, running his hand through his dark, medium-length hair, a habit he had picked up from Dustfinger when he was alive. "Meat pie and a flask of red wine!" Orpheus ordered. Scowling, Farid stalked to one of the small wooden cupboards, set against the tent's walls, to gather these things. He'd had to use his own money that his skill with fire earned him to buy these things, since Cheeseface was so gluttonous. Otherwise, Farid feared, Cheeseface would eat all the food in the entire camp before long.
Meggie rose silently to accompany Farid, pushing her long, golden hair from her lovely face. He never said anything, but she knew that Farid appreciated it when she accompanied him as he served Orpheus. It helped him to keep his temper when her fair, slender hand was in his strong, tan one.
The stiffness slowly began to leave Farid when Meggie put her hand on his shoulder. She knew that he still blamed himself over Dustfinger's death, even though, in earnest truth, it was not his fault. In fact, were it not for Farid, Dustfinger would have died long before.
Fenoglio sighed resignedly as he watched the two of them disappear through the slit in the huge curtain, carrying out Orpheus' demands. He, too, despised the man, but for Dustfinger, Fenoglio could put up with him. Absently, he stirred his mug of ale and took a sip, stroking his shaggy beard.
A few minutes passed before Meggie and Farid returned, with Orpheus, who was smiling in that annoying, condescendingly smug way. He held a long piece of parchment in his hand, presumably the words that would bring Dustfinger out of the shadowlands.
"I am quite sure that what I have written will be effectual," he stated pompously, handing the paper to Fenoglio. "Just the same, I thought I had better let you have a look at it."
Fenoglio rose and gingerly took the parchment from Orpheus, casting a glance at Meggie, who stood behind him with Farid. From the expression on her face, Fenoglio could tell that Orpheus had refused to let her read the words, and she was most unhappy about it.
Fenoglio read the words carefully. Everyone watched his face, Orpheus with his fat arms folded importantly across his chest. Fenoglio's lips moved ever so slightly as he read the words to himself in an inaudible whisper. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he analyzed Orpheus' work. He hal-smiled briefly. When Fenoglio finished, he nodded his approval.
"I think it will do the trick," he said to Orpheus, eyes shining with excitement. Meggie's and Farid's faces lit up. Orpheus smirked.
"I knew it would. Now give it to me. I will read it aloud." Fenoglio handed back the paper. Orpheus took it and cleared his throat. "For the first time in history, fire was present in the world of the White Women," He read, "the fire which they feared, yet yearned for. The flames danced on the fingertips of the charming fire-eater who commanded its dance, who whispered to the fire and understood its language."
Orpheus' words hung in the air; one could reach out and touch them. His beautiful voice brought to life the crackling, whispering words of flame. Farid almost jumped when he thought he heard Dustfinger whispering back, and had to glance about the tent's interior before he realized that his master was not there. In a melancholy yet expectant manner, he turned his attention to the words.
"The White Women, who are said to have no feeling, felt love for Dustfinger, the man who fire obeyed. But it was Dustfinger's love that affected the White Women most. It was for love that he had exchanged his life for that of the boy Farid. It was for love that he had left the world he knew, love that enabled him to follow them willingly to their world.
"Any time they ventured out, the songs people sang, songs of Dustfinger's love and his great sacrifice, reached their ears. So many loved Dustfinger, and so many now missed him.
"More and more often, the white women stayed by his side, neglecting to come for the dead and dying in the world of daylight. They, too, were beginning to love Dustfinger, the man who could tame and befriend fire.
"As time went on, their love for him turned to compassion, and the sadness that crept into his eyes like a shadow when he thought of his home and the world he loved and missed so much broke their hearts.
"The tears streaming down his beautiful, scarred face as he performed tricks with fire cut them deeply, and they wailed and mourned because of his anguish. At last, the White Women decided to let him return to his home.
"That very day the White Women cut open a portal through which he could return. Once more, flesh and life would be united, exactly as they had been before."
Meggie glanced up from Orpheus' face. Something in the middle of the tent was taking form. At first, it had seemed to be only a trick of the light. But the mist gathering in that area began to thicken and grow, slowly, very slowly. She nudged Farid's arm and pointed discreetly. Soon everyone but Orpheus was watching it. Meggie glanced at him, hoping it would not distract him from reading, but he had not noticed. Orpheus continued to read.
"He had been allowed to return again to the land of the living. His lips smiled, and his eyes opened again to the world he had so loved," Orpheus finished.
Everyone turned once more the growing shadow with hopeful eyes. Breathlessly, they watched it grow in shape. They could make out the arms and the legs. A hand unfolded itself, stretching its fingers. A booted foot took shape.
On the shoulders a head was molded, and the shoulders became more defined. Their excitement began to turn to shock. The shadow, no longer formless, began to grow in height, a height that was not Dustfinger's.
Color came to the apparition, which they could now see had rather pale skin, dark hair that looked somewhat unwashed, and a leering sneer for a smile. His figure was tall and quite wiry.
When Basta opened his eyes, all four of the people watching him gasped.
Basta's leer deepened. "Hello, again, everyone," he laughed maliciously.
Meggie, horrified as she was, cast a dark glance at Fenoglio. He caught it.
"I told you," he whispered to her "This is no longer my story! It's not my fault! I didn't plan this. This is not the world I created with ink!" But she wasn't paying attention to him anymore.
"B-b-b-but what—why—how," stuttered the helpless Orpheus, flustered and astonished, then, getting a hold of his tongue once more, "this isn't possible!"
"Oh, isn't it?" asked Basta. "Allow me to explain." He crossed his arms and leaned against a thick pole near the tents doorway, barring anyone's escape. He knew that slipping underneath the tent walls was out of the question, for the fabric was held securely in the ground with long, sharp stakes.
Basta eyed his prisoners. "As you know, I was killed by our dear little witch's father," he indicated Meggie, causing Farid to put a protective arm about her shoulders. Basta grinned at him nastily. "Dustfinger was a favorite of the White Women. Day in and day out, he made fire play for them, the fire they so feared yet yearned for.
"But today, things changed. The White Women's demeanor toward your beloved Dustfinger changed entirely. They seemed to love him, and his grief grieved them. His fire no longer seemed to enchant him. They did not even see it. They were watching the tears in his eyes.
"Almost immediately, I knew what was happening. Someone was reading! 'They are trying to get Dustfinger back—the fools!' I thought to myself." Basta stopped to glare wickedly at Meggie. "Of course, I assumed it was either you or your father, the Bluejay, but it appears I was mistaken. Not that it matters. I still wanted revenge—on you, your father, and on Dustfinger! I knew the best way to get that was to keep your beloved Dustfinger in the shadowlands forever. So I waited.
"Soon, the White Women made a small opening for Dustfinger to leave their realm. He was walking toward it slowly, as if he didn't quite believe it to be real. So I made a dash for it, and beat him through it by a mere inch. Of course, I had to knock him out of the way, back again into the shadowlands. I had the element of surprise on my side. You should have seen his face! It was the second time I had seen him look so stricken, and the last, for the portal closed behind me.
"It did not take long for me to locate you. How stupid of the Bluejay to dump me into a ditch, with nothing to keep me from leaving!"
He now took out the thing that Meggie had hoped more than anything to never see again.
"I even still had my knife on me," he chuckled as he flicked open his switchblade and checked its sharpness with his thumb. "Your father really is a fool."
Just then the tent flap was pushed open. In stepped Mo and Resa, Meggie's parents. They stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Basta standing there, alive again.
"What is it?" asked a voice behind them, sounding anxious. "Is Dustfinger there—is he really there?" Roxane pushed past them before either could stop her. When she saw Basta, she gasped.
"Well, hello, my dear Roxane," Basta purred. "I bet you didn't think you would see me again, eh? And now, oh joy! Now that Dustfinger is out of the way, I don't have any competition!" Roxane went white. Basta took a menacing step toward her.
In a flash, Mo was between Basta and the terrified Roxane. "Don't you dare come near her!" he shouted angrily.
"What are you going to do?" Basta sneered. "You don't have your sword this time, Bluejay." Mo didn't say anything. He just stood there, looking up at Basta, who was immensely taller than everyone in the room, but a mere few inches taller than Mo. "Or," he mocked, "are you so clever that you don't need one? But perhaps your little girl can read one into being for you." He laughed at his joke. "No, nothing can stand in my way now. I don't fear death anymore, now that I have been there, and I certainly don't fear you!" With that, he lunged at Mo with his knife slashing through the air.
Mo shoved Resa and Roxane out of the way and sidestepped nimbly, catching Basta's arm.
Resa pulled Roxane over to where Meggie stood, behind Farid, who was trying to protect her, and Fenoglio. This done, Resa glanced around the tent for something she could use as a weapon. Mo needed her help.
"Farid," she whispered, "help me pull up this tent-stake, quietly—and hurry!"
Basta had freed himself, and now he and Mo were circling each other. Basta, of course was ranting at him, trying to provoke him. Mo would not lose his composure.
"Come on, Bluejay, I've heard the songs; you are a mighty warrior! Surely you can defeat me without a weapon like I have." Again he lunged at Mo. Again Mo dodged, but as he did so, his head cracked against a low-hanging, unlit lantern, large and made of brass. He fell to the ground, black spots dancing before his eyes, and in the midst of them, Basta raising his knife high into the air for the plunge.
"You killed me, Bluejay, so now I kill you!" he cried with glee, and the knife plummeted through the air. But Mo wasn't watching him. He was looking past him.
Through the darkness gathering before his eyes, Mo saw Resa rushing in with a large stake raised above her head, blunt end up, for she was not a killer. She was running straight at Basta.
Basta turned his head to see what the Bluejay was staring at. Whack! Something hard hit his hand. The knife flew from his grasp. Basta howled in pain and jumped sideways to face Resa. The stake came crashing up against his jaw. Damp earth and small clumps of grass flew off as it made contact. Still utterly surprised, Basta stumbled toward her. Resa swung the tent-stake at the side of his head, but this time he was prepared. He caught it in his hand. "Gotcha," he hissed slowly, grinning at her, his face in hers. Then something hit him hard in the back of the knee.
Basta collapsed. Something struck his back, knocking the breath out of him. He gasped for air and turned his head slightly. There was Mo, holding a dented lantern and supporting himself against a tent-pole, his foot rushing at Basta's head.
It felt like something had exploded in his brain. Basta stumbled to the tent flap. But as he opened it, he turned again to face those in the room. With the hateful leer back on his long, bony face, he growled, "Don't think I won't be back to finish this." Then he staggered out of the tent.
Resa was tending to Mo's injuries, Farid had Basta's knife.
"But…Dustfinger…" Roxane whimpered, tears welling in her eyes.
"The words—just read the words again! Maybe it will work this time!" cried Farid chokingly.
Fenoglio just sighed and shook his head.
"It won't work anymore," muttered Orpheus. "I don't dare try it again. What if something worse happens?" Orpheus paused. "I will need time to think of a new idea. Farid, bring me some ale and bread and cheese for the important task I have ahead of me." He straightened proudly and strode into his section of the tent.
Farid's shoulders were shaking, and he muttered to himself incoherently. Meggie put a comforting, if shaking, hand on his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was trembling all over. The knowledge that Basta was alive again overcame her with terror and dread. She knew that he would be back, and soon—this time with not only a vengeance, but with a plan in mind for getting it. Basta always got what he wanted, one way or another. For safety, Meggie, her family, and her friends would most likely have to leave the Black Prince's camp to go into hiding somewhere else.
But for the moment, Meggie could ignore these facts. There would be a time for thinking on them later. Right now, Farid needed her.
"Don't worry, Farid," she whispered. "We can still find a way to bring him back, somehow." Farid wrapped his arms around her and let his tears fall.
I was so sad when Basta died in Inkspell. Then one day I said to my sister, "Hey! Wouldn't it be great if, when they were trying to bring back Dustfinger, they brought back Basta instead?!"
"NO!!!"
(my sister is a Dustfinger fangirl...) Anyway, that's how the idea was born. Note to Dustfinger fan/fangirls/rabid fangirls: plz don't kill me.
