The Fire Eater: Dustfinger's Origin Story

🔥 Cloud and Fire 🔥

When the tightrope walker awoke, the nurses demanded that he stay in bed until all signs of the fever had passed. The young man protested loudly to anyone who'd listen.

"I've been in bed long enough," he shouted.

Roxane shushed him and punched his arm like she would a younger brother. "If I let you up, you'll run straight to your tightrope, and as sick as you are, you’ll fall and break your neck."

He huffed, blew the hair from his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I wouldn't fall."

Dustfinger chuckled from across the room, earning a curious glare from the tightrope walker.

Dustfinger's own sore voice was beginning to feel more like a constant itch in his throat. He could almost speak at his usual volume without any discomfort. The bruising on his neck had all but faded, and the abrasions had left a tanned scar. Thankfully, the scarring was easy to hide behind the collar of his shirt. The black prince had yet to pay him a visit, and Dustfinger began to worry that his friend had fallen into deeper trouble with Capricorn and the fire-raisers. Having a reputation didn't provide much security either. Maalik was too easily recognized. It would be difficult for his friend to truly escape from under Capricorn's thumb.

Even with his own ginger hair, Dustfinger knew how to keep a low profile when he wanted to. A skill that would soon become a necessity if he was to ever leave this place. Yet Dustfinger had to admit that the infirmary wasn't a bad place to be trapped. He was given a warm bed and a hot meal every day. The barn owl visited him when he found the time, and even offered to help Dustfinger learn how to read. And then there was Roxane.

"I have debts," The tightrope walker was saying, still arguing with Roxane. "A single show could pay the Barn Owl, and then you wouldn't have to wait on the sick like some poor nursemaid."

Roxane bristled. "That's not why I’m here, you idiot. You think I’d only help because I owed something? I came here for my friend."

Cloudancer sat up. "Who?"

She smacked him over the head. "You, Cloudancer. How dense can you be?"

He only rolled his eyes. "They’re not even paying you. You're the best dancer our folk have ever seen. You could entrance the Silver Prince himself, yet here you are emptying chamber pots and scrubbing vomit from dirty linens. It's a disgrace."

Roxane's face darkened, and she glanced away.

Dustfinger spoke up, his voice hoarse. "Any attention from the Adderhead is a curse."

Cloudancer narrowed his eyes at Roxane. "The Adderhead?"

"It's true," Roxane glanced my way. "Snaketongue is dead. The Adderhead is the Silver Prince now."

Cloudancer sobered. He was quiet for a moment, working his jaw. "It could still work. As long as we’re careful, we could..."

Roxane stopped him, shaking her head. "Please...not now."

He fell silent. "Fine."

"I'll dance again," Roxane promised. "As soon as you're well."

"What about you?"

Dustfinger perked up. "Me?"

Cloudancer eyed him curiously. "What do you do, stranger?"

Dustfinger rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat nervously. "I—"

"He's a fire eater," Roxane said with a sly smile. "I've seen it with my own eyes."

This caught the tightrope walker's attention. "A fire-eater? Do you perform?"

Dustfinger swallowed hard. "Only sometimes."

"Ha!" Cloudancer moved to stand from the bed, earning a hard shove from Roxane. "Everyone knows there's money to be made in performing. Just ask the motley folk."

Dustfinger glanced at Roxane. The skills of the most talented motley folk were revered by even the highest of nobility in Argenta, and yet they were not allowed within the city gates after dark. They were forced to be wanders, never calling one place their home. Always invited, but never welcome. Roxane and Cloudancer were among them. Cloudancer's plan to earn a high wage by performing for the Adderhead would come with one major risk. No matter how the Adderhead adored the entertainment they could provide, they’d never be counted as legitimate citizens. Their lives mattered even less to the Adderhead than the common peoples. They could be killed directly under his shadow and no one would bat an eye.

"Dance for me." The words slipped from Dustfinger's mouth before he could stop them.

Roxane looked at him. Her dark eyes met his, and she smiled. "And what would the fire-eater give me in return?"

"I'll perform. In the garden behind the infirmary."

Cloudancer leaped to his feet on the straw mattress. "A performance! Count me in!"

In unison, Roxane and Dustfinger both said a resounding "No."

"Well then," Roxane said, barely concealing a smile. "Show me what you've got, fire-eater."