The Hermit, The Tower, The World (Vol.2 Complete)

26th of Inandyl - 4th Serrin (cont)

Calas found a spot close to the start-finish line and draped his arms on the bench behind him. With his head tilted back, facing the bright midday sky, he took a moment to breathe. The moment he stopped, a wave of exhaustion swept over him and set his head to pounding.

It was equal parts boon and bane that the discomfort forced him to sit up. He couldn't relax, which was probably good considering he might drift to sleep, and after the suspicious eyes on him earlier, that would be a horrible outcome. But damn, his bed sounded so good right now.

He distracted himself by monitoring Serea who now spoke to Jem and a heavy weight of doubt settled in Calas' chest. She seemed fine with this, but that didn't abate the unease that grew within him. This event was a bit too close for his comfort to everything he had tried to avoid in the past six months.

Calas ran a hand back through the long strands of his hair and silently cursed the Draconys pair for getting involved. Why had they anyway? What vested interest could either Fara or Vesa have in whatever game this was? Was there even an end goal for them, or was it just a way to pass the time?

It was the kind of cat and mouse game he expected from his uncles. To be honest, he trusted his uncles just about as much as Fara, which meant there was no guarantee that the Drakonys pair actually meant well. Calas had serious doubts about their altruism if they thought that pushing her toward Calas was a beneficial pursuit for her. As nice as that was to think about in theory, the reality of it would be messy, dangerous, even potentially deadly for Serea. Calas wasn't about to fool himself into hoping for that.

His thoughts were interrupted as Serea sat down next to him with a sigh.

"Jem take care of you?" He asked in a low tone, a bit concerned that he had missed something when he zoned out.

"Yeah," she started with a frown, scrunching her nose. "I did it wrong, though."

Calas chuckled and he leaned over to read the bid slip as she held it up to him. It reminded him of his own experience the first time his uncles told him to go give money to a bookie, and he smiled fondly at the memory.

"Yeah, I did it wrong my first time, too. It's not a big deal, though, especially with Jem. He's fair as far as most bookies I know." He winced at the comment, realizing that likely wasn't helping. "Although, I was ten my first time, so, maybe not a great comparison."

Also, not a great comparison because it was for Uncle Kondo who had gotten banned from making bets with that particular bookie. As he was not in the same situation as his uncle, Calas could have made his own bet with Jem, but it didn't feel right to do so. It felt like he would have been taking advantage of his friend if he had.

He focused on the bid slip, which read, "#56 Rea: Tumet. 6p.". Calas chuckled at Jem's shorthand for every name longer than three letters.

"It doesn't seem like Jem minded much, Rea." He stressed the name, but stopped after it hit his own ears. He looked over at her, a genuine, bemused expression on his face. "That's kinda pretty. 'Rea', I mean."

"If you say so, Cal." She stressed Jem's nickname for him and his grin grew a bit wider. "What is with him and three letter names?" She asked, putting away the bid slip in her pocket.
"Don't know," Calas shrugged. "He's always been like that. Didn't like his own name so he made a new one, I guess."

"Wait, what's his real name?" she asked.

"Jenkins." Calas reported without hesitation.

"How does that work?" Rea's eyes narrowed at him in consternation. "There's no 'm' in Jenkins."

"That's just Jem." Calas gave another shrug and a throaty chuckle to accompany it. "Maybe 'cause 'Jen' is a girl's name? I stopped trying to understand. He is the best bookie at Court, though." He shook his head, still laughing at all the oddities about his spiky friend, but without them, he wouldn't be Jem.

"I suppose you would know." She shifted her posture and lowered her tone.

"You would think that," he started harshly, but laid on the sarcasm and ended in a light, playful tone, "and you would be right. Though, there are only two." Calas heaved a deep breath.

"Still, I'm glad to not have time for that kind of stuff anymore. It's much better to be a spectator."

She smiled at him then, and Calas hoped that Orendell would use this moment of her the next time he asked Calas to deliver her to the Beast. Her delicate grin lit up her face in the weak midday sun and her deep blue eyes reflected a kindness toward him he could not understand. It made him think that maybe, just maybe, she didn't view him as a monster. He thought if he could remember this smile, he could say no to a god again.

"I take it your uncles liked these kinds of events?" She asked casually and with all his defenses down, he chuckled as he nodded.

"You could say that. As long as there was coin to be won, they took me to every kind of event. Horse races, broom races, dog races, dog fights, boxing matches, by the gods, they even took me to a rat fight once. A rat fight!" He paused to catch his breath and realized what he was saying.

"But enough about that. What combat class are you taking next term, Rea?" A mischievous smile played on his face as this had been a personal goal of his ever since he reviewed the rosters. He didn't care how many times during this break he had to bring it up, especially since he had no idea when she would talk to him like this again. It was selfish, he knew, but it was also to her benefit.

"Not this again, Cal." she scoffed at him with a groan.

"I'm serious! I have one in mind if you want a suggestion." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, a playful grin on his face.

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"You are relentless." Rea said it more to herself as she shook her head at him, a playfully frustrated look on her face, fingers on her forehead. In the lull of their banter, her expression changed as she weighed him with her eyes. Putting her hands down, she found a calm, more neutral tone, though it was strained.

"Fine, what did you have in mind?"

Calas was intrigued by the calm she now wore like a blanket. Could she be hiding her emotions a little? "Intro to Martial Defense."

Her blanket came off immediately as she was unable to hold in her laughter. It was such a joyous sound that Calas couldn't help but chuckle along with her. When she didn't give a response, he gave her a little push.

"So, is that a yes?"

Her laughter only continued with more enthusiasm. At one point she held her stomach from laughing so hard, before eventually, she calmed herself down enough to respond.
"What makes you think I have any chance in a class like that? I told you I'm no good at the physical stuff."

Calas' smile changed to an almost predatory mien. He had thought about this argument for days now and the prospect of actually using it gave him a thrill. He checked the clock tower with a glance to check how much time he had to convince her.

"You might not have been good at combat at first, but the things we aren't innately good at need to be honed. The only way you do this is with practice. What I'm trying to say is just stick with it and I'll be there to help, so it's not like you'll be alone."

Rea's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously and he felt that measured stare she gave him before. When her expression turned to a mixture of angry and smug, he knew she had made a decision and he braced himself.

"How do you feel about gambling, Cal." she threw his words back at him in a biting tone.

Calas' grin mirrored the excitement that thrummed through him with her words. This was something entirely new from her. Not quite the vicious side, but definitely similar to it. He matched it with a laugh.

"Considering that we're already doing it, I would say I feel just fine about it." He gestured at the pitch and the riders who were getting ready to start. "Why do you ask, Rea?"

"What's one more, then?" Her smile became more devilish when she responded. A different kind of thrill ran through him and he wondered what in all the desert sands had gotten into this mouse?

She offered him her extended pinkie finger, her tone matter of fact. "In addition to our funds, if Narin and Wen win the race, I will take your Martial Defense class next term."

"Considering I have already weighed and made that bet, this is a no brainer." Calas scoffed with a laugh. As he went to take her pinkie with his own, though, she pulled hers back swiftly and their eyes locked. A pulse of feral hunger ran through him and he tried desperately to tap it down. This felt too much like hunting, but more like the hunting he had done to follow the Lady Crow.

"But," her voice was controlled and confident as she continued, "if they lose, you will not ask me to join another combat class. Ever." Rea's eyes bore into his on the last word and Calas raised a curious brow.

It wasn't the ultimatum he had expected at all. She could have made him promise to leave her alone indefinitely. Although, he suspected if that were the case, that she wouldn't have come here. If she had wanted him gone, that was her opportunity.

Perhaps it was as simple as she wanted him to drop the topic, but Calas already made up his mind on that point. The morning's study session only made it that much more important. What was she going to do when others started to recognize her sight as a difference to be exploited or dealt with? Or those mages that came looking for how she had made Chou? As he learned more about her, he felt even more strongly that she should know how to protect herself.

She had the grit, but didn't have the training. Calas did and he didn't need a class to teach it to her. Win or lose on this bet made no difference to him, it would only be harder to convince her if he lost this one. Either way, this would not be the last time that they spoke about her training.

"Deal." Calas took her pinkie finger with his and reflected that quiet, confident expression she wore back at him.

He tensed for a moment as a rush of warmth spread through him, originating from a tightness on their conjoined fingers. The light tingling sensation took root in his chest and tightened, but before he reacted more than a widening of his eyes, the feeling left just as quickly as it had come.

A small pang of fear jolted through him except he knew that feeling was his own. Calas worried that it was Orendell reawakening, but the mark on his ribcage was still and cool. That was more than a small relief, but the only question that remained was, what was that?

Rea must have felt it too, though, as she yanked back her hand from his. He heard a small murmur on the wind and figured it must have been Chou in her other ear. The curtain of her sandy blond locks hid her face from him as she whispered to Chou. Thanks to the wolf's keen hearing, he picked up what they said.

"Are you grounded, Serea?"

"Yes, I think…" Rea didn't sound very certain to Calas.

He turned his focus toward the pitch where Narin and Lysander met and greeted one another, their brooms in hand. Leaning forward, Calas propped his chin on his hands as if he were focused on the pitch. In truth, he wanted a moment to figure out why it felt like there was something still attached to his little finger.

When he focused on it, there was an odd tightness around the middle of his little finger where they had touched. It tingled in a way that was similar to the mark of Orendell, except that the mark of his god was usually more painful. This felt as gentle as a soft rain. It almost felt… pleasant.

Had she placed a spell on the promise? He admitted that would explain the small knot of mana he felt in his chest and also the sudden confidence she found while making it. If that were the case, what effect was this particular spell supposed to enact? Other than the soft sensation on his finger and in his chest, Calas couldn't determine that anything else had changed.

Before he could ask her, the midday bell rang out loud and clear from the clock tower in the Great Hall. He watched as both Narin and Lysander took to the sky and the invisible track above, marked by striped poles around the arena.

They seemed to be testing each other in the first lap, gauging one another's speed as they kept pace with one another. Calas was impressed that Narin, while supposedly completely green to racing, was holding his own.

"How many laps is the race?" Rea inquired numbly as they came back around toward them and the second lap. She didn't look at him, her gaze transfixed on the riders above.
"Three." He didn't look at her either, equally transfixed, as he answered calmly.

The hope he had for Narin quickly diminished at the start of the second lap when Lysander pulled away from him, the gap increasing with each turn. Calas shook his head in reserved dismay as the world renowned rider had gotten serious. It looked like he meant to trounce the challenger, regardless of experience.

Narin hadn't given up, though, as his speed increased suddenly and the broom jerked into motion at an unprecedented rate. Rea stood up quickly, staring in Narin's direction and muttered to herself in shock and awe.

"What in the…"

Calas shifted his focus to the pitch at Wen who was watching with the biggest grin on her face. He felt a surge of hope at this because if Wen hadn't given up, it meant that whatever Rea saw was working.

He looked up again as Narin streaked by them faster than Lysander had. It was a truly remarkable comeback, as Narin closed the gap with the veteran by the third turn of the third lap. Calas covered his mouth with steepled hands as his heart thundered with excitement.

Calas took one deep calming breath in an attempt to slow his rapid pulse. When was the last time he got this worked up over a race? He didn't know if he had ever been. I guess it really does feel different when you have something at stake.

Narin crossed first by a quarter length of a broom.

"He won?" Rea's voice was breathy as if her heart was pounding, too.

Calas stood up to join Rea so she could hear him over the noise that erupted in the stadium.

"Yeah, I can't quite believe it either," he breathed, "But you have winnings to collect." He reminded her with a broad smile.

She looked up at him with a tentative quirk to her lips and he found that raging tempest in her deep blue eyes. Calas thought that maybe he had gotten more out of this than he had bargained for.