The Fire Eater: Dustfinger's Origin Story

🔥 The Infirmary 🔥

The barn owl's quarters were filled with stacks of thick, dusty books- more than Dustfinger had seen in a lifetime. Although Dustfinger couldn't read, the tomes were still an impressive sight. All together, the stacks of books, papers, and seeing stones made the room seem filled with the random collections of a crow's trinkets stashed in a nest. Dustfinger wondered if that was how the old physician had earned his name.

The west wing of the infirmary was quiet compared to the rest of the hall. The barn owl watched the boy closely as he walked through the room. He was a small, aging man with graying hair and a complexion as pale as death. Though short sighted, his eyes were young and his broad hands steady. He was a first-class sawbones and the best surgeon in Argenta. He said nothing, but as Dustfinger traced a hand over an open book, he sensed the man's eyes on him.

A rapt knock sounded at the open door behind them. The thin woman Dustfinger had pushed over approached with her hands clasped in front of her. She had wispy graying hair and a crooked nose. She gave Dustfinger a scornful glance before turning to the barn owl. "Your apprentice needs help with a patient. A gash that needs stitches." Her voice had a high pitch that made her seem rather frail.

He gave an exasperated sigh. "I thought taking on an apprentice would be worthwhile, but the boy has yet to learn the basics of my craft. He needs me to show him how to do everything."

The woman was eyeing Dustfinger with a suspicious air. The barn owl gave her a nod. "Thank you, Bella. Tell him I'll be there soon."

With a brittle intake of breath, the woman scurried down the hall again. Dustfinger and the barn owl kept walking, and the physician didn't look to be in any rush to run to his apprentice's aid.

"Why Capricorn?" The barn owl asked once they were alone. "You know what his men are like...what they do."

Dustfinger glanced away, his eyes falling on the sparce herb garden outside the infirmary windows. "Argenta isn't kind to orphans," he said. "We were treated like vermin, trusted less than a stray dog." He shook his head, swallowing past his aching throat. When he spoke again, the words were quiet. "Capricorn taught me how to defend myself. He showed me how to survive."

"But at what cost?" The physician said. "You nearly died because of him. Do you call that teaching you how to survive? He's using you so he doesn't have to risk his own neck to the hangman's noose."

Dustfinger didn't reply. His throbbing neck was answer enough.

"You've already paid a high price for his help. Your loyalty means nothing to him. I'm begging you, get out while you still can."

Dustfinger wanted to tell him that he'd been trying to get away from Capricorn for years. Yet every time he managed to slip away, the fire-raisers pulled him in again. They always found him. One way or another, Capricorn always got what he wanted. Dustfinger couldn't leave before, but now he had a chance if the fire-raisers thought he was dead. Once he'd recovered, he could flee to Ombra and seek sanctuary with the Laughing Prince. But he wouldn't leave without Maalik.

Before Dustfinger could voice the thoughts heavy on his mind, they neared a group of nurses folding linens in wicker baskets. Among them was a girl with dark hair. She wore a vibrant red dress with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Thin plaits decorated the lengths of her black hair, which she wore down. The girl turned, her face brightening as she saw Dustfinger. "It's good to see you up and walking."