Let me tell you a secret about a father's love
A secret that my daddy said was just between us
He said daddies don't just love their children every now and then
It's a love without end, amen
Love Without End, Amen—George Strait
It's late afternoon when Brianna comes riding up, dismounting and rushing into the house before anyone can leave the table. She looks frazzled, her hair flying wildly and her eyes wide. She opens her mouth and then her gray eyes fix on Dustfinger and she freezes.
"Hello again," he murmurs with a smile. Brianna flounders, mouth working silently before she gives up and flings herself against him in a tight hug that takes all the air out of him. He's missed these hugs, the way she buries her face in the crook of his neck like she had when she was little. "What's got you in such a rush, sweetheart?"
"It's Farid," she says, pulling back. She's wringing her hands together, a nervous habit Dustfinger hasn't seen since Brianna was three. "Orpheus has him tied up in the cellar and said he's going to have that Oss kill him tonight. You have to help him!" Ice water flows through his veins, shoulders jerking back like the words are a physical blow.
"Firefox, do you know where Orpheus lives?"
"Yup," Firefox says, already getting up. He passes his lunch over to Jehan and secures his sheath to his belt. "Let's get going." The two men are moving at once, the others following them out onto the porch. "Brianna, we're taking your horse." She nods without a sound, watching as Dustfinger climbs onto the saddle while Firefox brings out the old horse from the stable.
"Wait," Julianne calls. She grabs something from just inside the door and then runs over to them, pressing a wooden bat into Dustfinger's hand. "I got this made last month with some of the money Jacopo gave me. I figured it'd come in handy."
"You know I'm no good with weapons," Dustfinger says, anxious to get going.
"Orpheus' bodyguard is the size of a fucking house, so I doubt the bat will hurt him." Dustfinger takes it reluctantly, fingers wrapping around the handle with a familiarity that stems from frequent baseball games on Julianne's campus. "Bring our boy back." Dustfinger nods, urging the horse into motion and following Firefox out of the yard.
They ride at a breakneck pace to beat the encroaching evening, kicking up dust until the dirt road changes to cobblestones. They race past a pair of dozing guards, taking sharp turns until they come to a stop in front of a large house.
"This is it," Firefox says as he dismounts. Dustfinger follows suit, securing the horse's reins to an iron fence that surrounds the property. There are two stone gargoyles resting above the gates and Dustfinger's sure that Farid had a story or two about them.
"Does Orpheus open his own door?"
"Nope. He's made a fine life for himself here." The men march straight up to the front door, Firefox kicking it open and surprising a large man in the hall. He turns, the right side of his face covered in sullied bandages that cover his right eye and wrap under his chin.
"Hey," he shouts, barreling toward them. Dustfinger acts without thought, bringing the bat up and around in an arch until the wood hits Oss' chin with a resounding crack. The man stumbles back a step and it takes another hard swing to make him fall.
"I need one of those."
"They do come in handy," Dustfinger nods. He hands the bat off to Firefox as he begins the search for Farid, nearly stepping on the small figure of a glass man. Dustfinger kneels down to placate the little fellow, holding out his hand for the creature to crawl up onto. "And what's your name?"
"Jasper," he whispers. "Are you the Fire-Eater?" Dustfinger nods despite the way Firefox is gesturing in the negative. Jasper's face perks up and then he's climbing up Dustfinger's coat sleeve and sitting on his shoulder. "You're here for Farid?"
"Yes."
"Through that door!" Dustfinger heads toward a door that's been partially hidden by a wall, the hinges creaking as he pushes it open. The wet earth smell of cellars everywhere reaches his nose and he makes a small sound of disgust, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose shut.
"Gods but it stinks."
"I'll stay up here," Firefox says, wrinkling his nose. "Have fun." Dustfinger snorts and starts down the stairs, taking them at a slow pace in case someone's down here to ambush him.
"By all the fairies, you'd think that moon-faced fellow could afford some potpourri for the dank spaces in this house." He holds up the hand farthest from his face, conjuring small flames to dance on his fingertips and illuminate the blackness. "Go on and find our boy." The martens leap out of his pockets, racing each other down the stairs and to a column near the stairs where a hunched form becomes visible.
"Dustfinger," Farid rasps. His cheeks are hollower than Dustfinger remembers, but there's life in his eyes and a smile making his entire face light up. Had it been this lively in Death's palace? In those dark blue waters where he watched this boy go about his day and couldn't quite remember his name? "Your scars are gone!"
"Indeed they are. Would you believe that Juli and Roxane miss them?" He laughs as he steps onto the hard packed earth, kneeling in front of this gangly boy he'd give everything up for. Jink climbs up onto Farid's shoulder as a ruckus starts up beyond the cellar door. "How angry do you suppose Orpheus will be to learn that his lackey was knocked out with a baseball bat?"
"So angry that his face goes redder than usual." Farid's laughing as Dustfinger brings out a knife and cuts through the ropes binding him to the column. "Did Julianne do it?" He doesn't wait for an answer, barreling on with all the things Dustfinger's missed. "You should have seen her at the cemetery! She jumped onto the Chunk and clawed at his face like the big cats in the woods! He's blind in his right eye now!"
"A good reason for us to stay on her good side, eh?" Farid launches himself forward to wrap Dustfinger up in a hug, nearly making them both topple to the ground. Dustfinger can feel Jasper clinging desperately to his shirt collar, glass fingers cold against Dustfinger's neck. Dustfinger doesn't miss a beat, drawing them both to their feet without breaking contact.
"You're really back…." He runs one of his hands over Farid's curls then cups the boy's jaw, letting him feel the warmth of Dustfinger's hand. He's never felt this warm before in his life, not even when he played with fire for the White Women. He's also never had sparks of it dripping from the tips of his hair to his shoulders like raindrops.
"Don't you worry, I'm no ghost." Farid tries to draw him into another hug but stops when he hears Jasper's reedy shriek. Dustfinger places the glass man on Farid's shoulder where he looks far more comfortable. "Your friend here is the one that helped me find you once I got here."
"But how did you know I was here at all?"
"I told Brianna what Orpheus was planning and she rode straight to her mother's farm," Jasper says with a pink tinge to his cheeks. "I couldn't let my only friend in this house get killed and tossed away on gallows hill."
"Who the hell are you?" Orpheus' voice rings clearly through the house, his shadow mingling with Firefox's at the top of the stairs. It falls plainly down the first two steps, but then the darkness swallows it up. "How dare you break into my house!" There's a hollow thunk followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground and a low moan. Farid raises a brow when he turns to look at Dustfinger.
"I gave the bat to Firefox," he explains. "It seems that he put it to good use. Come along, let's get out of here before the smell makes me retch." Farid takes the stairs two at a time, Gwin chasing after him until they're all back in the fading sunlight. Oss is still unconscious in the entryway, but Orpheus has dragged himself into a sitting position just out of Firefox's reach.
"By all the stars, you really are back," he whispers in delighted awe.
"Yes, with no help from you." Orpheus lets out an offended squawk, looking undignified in his rumpled clothes and reddening face. Even from four feet away, Dustfinger can smell the wine that makes his tongue heavy. "Silvertongue brought me back."
"He brought you back because of my words!"
"Oh yes, I've heard your words. I was playing with fire in the Cold Man's palace and I heard your words echoing all around me. As I believe, they went something like this: 'Hear me, Master of Silence. I offer you a bargain. I send you the Bluejay, who has made mock of you. He will believe that he has only to call on your pale daughters, but I am offering him to you as the price for the Fire-Dancer.' Is that right?"
"I wrote them for you!" Orpheus stands, though he has to grab the railing of the stairs to stay upright. He's got a large red spot on his forehead that'll be an ugly bruise come morning and Dustfinger can only imagine how much force Firefox had used to hit Orpheus. "Why should that bookbinder save this story when it should obviously be you! I had to offer Death something in exchange!"
"I've learned a few things while I was on the other side, Orpheus." Dustfinger brings up his hand and blows on it, conjuring fire in the shape of a golden bird with a red spot on its chest. "One is that Death obeys no words no matter how prettily they've been written, and the second is that Silvertongue, not you, went to the White Women."
"He was the only one who could call to them." Orpheus sounds like a small child that's been told no for the first time, indigent anger making his precious voice something shrill and ugly. "He did it for his wife, not for you!"
"Can you think of a better reason, Firefox?"
"Not off the top of my head," Firefox says. He's holding the bat loosely, the top of it resting on his shoulder as he stares down at Cheeseface. "I'd sacrifice anything for my family. How about you, Dustfinger?"
"I think we all know that answer." Dustfinger reaches out to ruffle Farid's hair again, making sure the boy really is still here. "I know you're not going to like this, Orpheus, but I think Silvertongue's voice is much more pleasing to the ears. It used to make me sad, but it's filled with love. Yours is filled with selfishness. You're far too fond of reading words no one knows about or even leaving a few out, Isn't that right, Farid?"
"Mm," Farid grunts. His gaze is filled with seething hatred as he glares at Orpheus. He doesn't even notice as the fiery bird in Dustfinger's hand collapses into a pile of ashes.
"I believe I'll be taking the book and any scrap of paper you've written on."
"The book," Orpheus asks, stepping back as though afraid of being struck again. "But it's mine."
"You stole Inkheart from Farid after you read me back here. Besides, I've heard of all the things you've used that book for since coming here. Colorful faeries, spotted brownies, unicorns…. Did you know that the dwarves you read here are abused in the castle? That the unicorns are just hunting trophies for the Milksop?"
"You don't understand! I have great plans for this story and—"
"You and Fenoglio both have grand plans for this story, but you're just confusing it." Dustfinger shakes his head, turning his hand over and letting the ashes fall to the clean floor. "Instead of letting the story spin its own threads, you're taking them apart and putting them where they don't fit."
"You're doing a piss poor job of it, too," Firefox grumbles. "I went from sleeping on silken sheets to sharing a straw mattress with two other people." Dustfinger raises his brows and Firefox gives him an unabashed grin. "I suppose I shouldn't complain. I haven't been cold since I moved in with Roxane and Jaime."
"I'm sure." Firefox snorts, shifting his stance into something more casual. "Farid, why don't you run and fetch the book? Get all the papers he's written on as well."
"No," Orpheus shrieks. "You can't take the book away! Fenoglio's not the only one who can write words to harm you! I'll—"
"Words don't conjure fear in my breast anymore. Have you forgotten that neither you nor Fenoglio could dictate how I died?" Dustfinger holds out a hand, fire swirling around his fingers and forming into a torch. He passes it over to Farid, the flames crackling in whispered adoration. "Bring me what I asked, please, Farid."
"You must take the list, too," Jasper says. "He made me draw up a list of all the words Fenoglio used. I'm as far as the letter F."
"Yes, grab that, too." Farid nods with a grim determination and heads up the stairs with Jink chasing after him. Orpheus attempts to go after him, but Firefox swings the bat out to bar his way in the same instance that Dustfinger makes the fire strike out and singe the man's fine silk shirt.
"Jasper," Orpheus yells," I'm going to smash you into such tiny splinters that no one will even be able to see what color you were! As for you, you lying little camel-driver, I'll make you disappear into a story full of horrible things specially written for you!"
"Take care with your threats, Orpheus. If anything ever happens to the boy, or if he suddenly disappears — the fate you clearly intended for him this time — then I'll come to visit you again. And as you know, I never go anywhere without fire."
"I did it all for you and this is the thanks I get?" Firefox rolls his eyes and nods at the cellar, Dustfinger shrugging in response. They both grab Orpheus, hauling him down the rickety stairs and holding tighter when he starts thrashing against them. Dustfinger holds him against the column by the stairs, keeping him in place so Firefox can tie him to it. "You can't do this!"
"Who's going to stop us," Firefox asks. "Your muscle is still unconscious upstairs."
"We should tie that one up, too," Dustfinger says. Getting Oss downstairs is even more of a hassle than Orpheus had been and they eventually decide to hoist him to the top of the stairs and let him roll the rest of the way. They don't bother tying him to the column, they take an extra bit of rope to bind his hands and feet.
"Stop this," Orpheus yells. "You can't do this! You can't—" Dustfinger shoves a dirt cloth in his mouth and lets out a satisfied sound. He drops a few embers on the stairs as they head back to the first level, letting them grow into something a little more substantial. Farid joins them a moment longer, a mess of papers and the book in his arms. He looks around with his brows furrowed.
"Where are they," Farid asks.
"In the cellar. I lost a little fire on the stairs. We'll be back to Roxane's before it goes out." Farid nods and follows him to the door before pausing. "What is it?"
"Brianna hates me, so why did she help me?" Dustfinger opens the front door and the martens scurry out into the evening. The horses are still by the gate, though Brianna's whinnies when Gwin comes near it.
"Perhaps she likes Orpheus even less than you."