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Calcifer found himself to be as curious about the new arrival as he was about him.
Howl had found the human child on their doorstep while going out and reproached Calcifer for not bothering to tell him about it (in Calcifer’s defence, Howl had never asked). “We can’t have people living on our doorstep, Calcifer,” he had said with a long-suffering look, before turning his attention to the subject of contention and saying “I suppose you can wait here.” Then he was out of the door with a swish of cloak before the kid could form a response.
Throughout Calcifer and Howl’s conversation, he had stood frozen by the doorway, looking like he was contemplating making a run for it. After Howl left, he stared after him for a moment, then looked around the room with his mouth slightly open. Calcifer watched him put down the old box he had been clutching and slowly cross the room to Howl’s workbench. “I’ve never been inside a sorcerer’s house before,” he announced, and shot a glance at the fireplace. If he expected a response, Calcifer did not oblige him. After nervously eyeing the workbench and the herbs hanging from the roof, and reaching for the jars on the shelves and seemingly thinking better of it, the boy presently pulled up the chair next to the hearth and sat gingerly. “Are you — uh, are you really a devil?” he asked Calcifer with awe in his voice.
“I’m a fire demon,” Calcifer huffed. “Slow one, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry!” said the kid, his eyes widening in alarm. “I thought —”
“What did you say your name was?” Calcifer cut in.
“Michael Fisher,” said the boy, and added hesitantly, “I've never met a demon before. Never thought I'd have any reason to.”
“How did you come to be sleeping on our doorstep of all places, then?” Calcifer demanded. Michael was dressed simply, like the few customers from Porthaven that Calcifer had seen, but his clothes were dirty and his curly hair was unkempt, which, combined with the fact that he was the first human other than Howl the fire demon was having an actual conversation with, made Calcifer long to know more about him.
“I meant to stay away from here, really,” Michael said uneasily. “I was too scared anyway. Everyone said there were devils in the house. But no one else would let me stay at their doorstep, and I figured if I came here people would leave me alone. And I was desperate enough to actually do it. I just needed a place to stay,” he sounded flustered. “When the Sorcerer opened the door I was so sure he would turn me out —”
“So you have no place to stay?” Calcifer inquired curiously.
“No,” Michael said morosely. “I used to live down by the sea, but … I had to leave, after … I wonder what I can do about it, living on the streets is not working out and I can't go on like this forever…”
Calcifer noted with some alarm that his voice was wobbly and sank into his logs before Michael could start dripping. But he seemed to collect himself soon, and continued speaking. “I need money, but no one wants to give me work, and even if they did I'm quite sure I'd never be able to afford food and rent for a place on my own.” He was speaking half to himself. Perhaps it was because he was bogged down with a human heart, but Calcifer was starting to feel bad for him, and rather indignant that no one wanted to help Michael. The kid seemed to be even worse off than the people Howl usually gave free spells to. Surely it was unusual for such a young human to be dealing with so many troubles on his own.
“I wonder what sort of work I could do,” Michael was saying now, looking thoughtful. “I'm not good at anything, really, and I don't have the money to go to school. I don't suppose I could fish, I never was any good at it and —” he gulped. “I don't have a boat anymore,” he said, his voice becoming quieter, and pulled his legs up on the chair and wrapped his arms around his knees. “And I — I feel sick if I even look at the sea for too long.” His voice cracked. Calcifer retreated into the logs for a second time.
“Father knew it would storm, you know,” Michael continued after a moment of silence. “But money was tight and he said he'd be back soon and he told me not to worry, and —”
Ah. That explained why Michael was on his own at such a young age. “Hey, now,” Calcifer tried to say, peeking out from the logs.
“— I wish — if I — I wish I could say goodbye,” Michael muttered, and buried his face in his knees.
Calcifer lifted himself up on his logs. He understood that humans tended to get rather attached to each other in spite of their short lifespans, and he figured that such a loss would be especially hard on a child. Granted, Michael had earned the right to drip. That did not mean Calcifer knew what to say to a human child in this situation, and that made him feel quite helpless. “Oh, give me a break,” he muttered to himself. This was the wrong thing to say.
“I'm sorry!” Michael fumbled, looking up and rubbing his eyes furiously. “I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I just hadn't properly talked to, well, anyone since everything happened and you were listening and there's just so much that I —”
“No, no, I didn't mean —” Calcifer started desperately. “Look, why don't you hang around here?”
Michael cautiously looked at Calcifer, hiccoughing a little. “Here … like, here ? Forever? Do you … do you think the Sorcerer will let me?”
Always the Sorcerer. Did no one care what Calcifer thought? “I don't know, no one's ever wanted to stay before,” he replied irritably.
“Well,” Michael said slowly, “I suppose it would help a lot if I had a place to stay. There's no harm in staying, if the Sorcerer doesn't mind — I have nothing to lose, and this place is nothing like what people said, you — uh, Calcifer, right? You're really nice. Oh! Maybe I can help out around the house? If I ask —”
At that moment, the door opened and Howl walked in, making Michael freeze. He strode past the hearth without looking at Calcifer and Michael, to the closet in the wall to unload his shopping bags. “Yeah, well,” Calcifer crackled to Michael. “Good luck getting him to give a straight answer to anything you ask.”
“Uh,” said Michael, watching Howl out of the corner of his eye.
“Why don't you wash up,” Howl said, still not looking at them, and Michael stared for a moment before realising that he was talking to him. “Oh!” he said breathlessly, “Right!” and sped towards the bathroom, nearly knocking over the chair he had been sitting on.
“Will you keep him, then?” Calcifer said to Howl immediately.
“Keep him?” Howl repeated impassively.
“He has nowhere else to go.”
“And you are concerned about him?” said Howl, taking out the pan.
Calcifer did not deign to reply to such a ridiculous assumption. “He has some magic abilities, you know,” he said instead. “I'm telling you now so you don't yell at me for hiding things from you later. You got eggs,” he observed. Michael had mentioned something about needing money for food.
Howl did not say anything beyond a hum of acknowledgement. Calcifer was pleased to see him pick up four eggs and prepare for a proper breakfast.
Because that meant more shells for him, and not for any other reason.