NOVEL NEXT Interlude 3: The Chariot Part 2
26th of Inandyl - 4th Serrin
My head is spinning by the time I get to Jem again. The crowds of scribes that once flooded around the prickly Gnawborn are much diminished when I find him to turn in my little piece of paper. For many, the race seems like an upset, but I am still unsure how to feel about it.
"Oh, Rea!" Jem's enthusiastic, nasal voice rings in my ears. "I was wonderin' when you'd come to collect." I nod, handing him my slip with a small smile and he starts counting coinage from the pouch on his belt.
Instead of coming to Jem right away, Calas and I went to the bottom row of the stands to congratulate Wen and Narin. The entire engineering team joyously carried on while still on the pitch. Except for Narin, of course, who seems to have passed out on the pitch from exhaustion.
I don't have to look to know that Calas is still over there. I glance nervously at my hand to find a deep red aetheric thread tied in a small bow on my pinkie finger. The end of it drifts lazily back toward the pitch and my heart skips a beat. What did I do to us?
I have always known that my mishaps could potentially include others, like with Liddy and my light spell, but this was something else. It feels like a mishap, but somewhere deep inside me I can tell that this bright red tether is different, somehow.
"Here ya go," Jem starts as he hands me a small coin pouch. "Sixty pennies for the winner." His long nose wiggles happily which sets his whiskers bouncing.
"Thanks, Jem." I say absently.
"No problemo, Rea. Maybe I'll see you guys over break, huh?"
"Oh, uh, sure. There are other events like this planned?"
"Tons, yeah. There's a schedule posted in the Great Hall if you're interested."
"Interested in what?" Calas' low voice reverberates behind me and I stiffen at the sound. How does he do that?
"Oh, hey Cal, yeah! I was just tellin' Rea here about all the other Club events lined up for the break. You guys should come! It would be great to see ya around again, I tell ya." Jem's rapid speech is almost as hard to follow as Wen's thick accent.
"Hmm," Calas intones. "I don't know if I'll have time for those, but I would love to catch up. You free tomorrow?"
I risk a glance up at his thoughtful posture. His eyes shift to mine and I quickly avert my gaze under his golden stare. All I can think about is how do I tell him what I did?
Rubbing my neck, I find the birds are unsurprisingly cool to the touch. The echo of that tingling warmth still lingers, though, and it is more than a little unnerving to think that the difference I suspect could be related to the being that granted this mark.
"Well, yeah, Cal!" Jem tucks his clipboard under his arm and faces Calas squarely. "You're still doin' the morning routines for Blackclaw, yeah? Then let's look at an afternoon time. My Ivora is usually dead so let's catch up over lunch."
A soft trill in my ear brings my attention to Chou while the two of them make plans.
"Chou? What is it?" I mutter under my breath to her.
"Your birds are different," her breezy voice shakes like leaves in a tree.
"Different how?"
"One of them is missing."
Suddenly I can't breathe and I cover my mouth with a hand in an attempt to mask my shock. The red thread lazily drifts up and ripples in the space between my finger and Calas'. How could this have happened and why now?
"What do you mean 'missing'?" I hiss.
"There is only one, now. Why did it change? Has it ever changed before?" her soft voice trembles with trepidation.
"Rea?" Calas leans down to get my attention and I thrust my hand behind my back, clasping it in my other.
"Yeah?" I try not to squeak it.
A questioning chuckle escapes him as he straightens and responds, "You ready to head back to the Sanctum?"
"Sure." I say with more confidence than I feel and we make our way out of the stadium.
I am distracted by what Chou told me, wanting to see for myself that what she said is true. I hope it's not! I think in a panic, even though I know Chou wouldn't lie to me about something like this. But that would mean that somehow, the Morrighan is involved in this mishap.
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I stare at the red thread as we walk across campus as it lulls, unaffected by wind or force alike. It is interesting that no matter how close or far we are from one another, the lazy thread never seems to go taut. There always seems to be the perfect amount of slack for it to meander on its own in light, waving ripples.
Once we are back in the Sanctum, I split the coinage from the pouch that Jem gave me and offer the pouch to Calas. He only eyes it suspiciously, a single brow raised.
"What's this for?" he asks, eying the pouch with a wary kind of amusement.
"Your half. Of the winnings." As I push the pouch farther in his direction, Calas shakes his head with a chuckle.
"I don't want your winnings, mouse." His tone is playful, a glint in his gold eyes.
"But you put in half." I protest hotly, not relenting my offering.
"It wasn't my name on the bid slip, Rea." Calas closes the gap between us, but pushes my proffered hand back toward me with his own. I can see clearly the red thread tied to his finger and my frustration boils over.
"Just take it!" I shove the pouch into his chest and let go, not caring if he catches it or not.
Chou flutters from my shoulder with the motion and I take a measured step away from him.
I see him tense as he holds the pouch to his chest, a flash of something wild playing behind that intense golden stare. I know that look now, though I'm still not sure what it means, and I match it with my own determination. Finally, he lets out a breath and that intensity leaves him.
"You won today, but you don't seem very happy about it." He observes as he pockets the small pouch.
My expression softens to a thoughtful mien. What did I win other than coin? I wonder to myself and my gaze shifts from the thread on his hand to his face and back again. What do I tell him? 'Sorry, I put an unknown magic on you and now we are somehow linked together by a red aetheric thread I've never seen before.' I think sarcastically to myself.
"I half won today." I correct him instead.
"If this is about the combat class, you don't have to take it if you don't want to." Calas shifts his weight on his feet and there is a resignation to his words that clenches my stomach. His focus turns away from me then, to staring aimlessly at a distant point on the ground.
I contemplate not taking the class for an instant, but in that instant, a pain, sharp and quick, runs through my hand. I wince, curling my hand into a fist reflexively and hold it with the other at my waist. A tightness pulls around the red aetheric thread with a vibrant, angry glow that pulses in tandem with the feeling. It is clear that this particular promise has consequences if unfulfilled, but from who or what, is the part that is still unclear.
"No. I will take the class." I respond breathlessly and when I do, the pain and angry glow dissipate as quickly as it had come and I breathe and sigh of relief. "We made a deal."
"You're sure?" he looks up at me finally, a hesitant, questioning expression on his face.
I nod emphatically, relaxing my hands. The movement shifts the red thread between us and sets it to rippling in that slow, other worldly way.
"I'm sure. I gave my word. Just tell me how to sign up."
"If you're sure, I will get you on the roster tomorrow when I see Blackclaw." Calas gives a subtle shake of his head, his expression like his tone coming back to a more neutral one. He glances from me to Chou, who is between us, staring at the drifting thread.
"What are you two looking at?" Calas asks, both amusement and suspicion in his tone.
"It's nothing." I start as I shove my hands behind my back, shaking my head.
"At the red thread of bonding." Chou pipes up at the same moment with her breezy voice.
I stare at her wide-eyed and horrified as she flutters toward it floating between us, pointing to it with one of her spindly legs. My hand covers my mouth and guilt fills my every pore.
"What is that, Chou?" Calas asks, looking curiously to Chou before I can admonish her.
She tilts her head in speculation, thinking hard about the question posed to her.
"Brrr… I'm not too sure, myself, but I knew what it was called when I saw it. It appeared when you made your promise."
I shiver, feeling the weight of responsibility for this and I take a step back, away from them both. Absently, my hand goes to the mark on my neck and I feel the dull ache of it keenly. One bird now. Is it an exchange? Is there something meant for the other bird like this bonding thread? My thoughts are consumed by what the Morrighan has planned for me. I don't realize I am looking down until I see Calas' shoes.
"Rea." he says my new nickname with such familiarity. It feels like a gift when he says it so softly. Not mouse, not even Serea. I peer up at him when he makes no move, no other sound.
Calas smiles down at my red face, a placid expression on his own. I find Chou perched on his shoulder, her tiny legs clutching to the fabric of his shirt.
"Thank you." Calas smiles at me fondly and I can tell he genuinely means it.
"What for?" Too startled to feel shy, it comes out as an accusation.
"For spending the day with me." He gives a chuckle. "It was kinda fun."
I blink and am speechless for a moment. "But I–"
"You what? Impressed me with your notes? Agreed to deal with me for another whole term?" He cuts in on my protest and nods his head. "Yes."
"But this thread!" I hold up my hand as if he can see the gaudy red thread.
Again he gives me a placid smile and a deep sigh.
"Rea," he breathes it like a prayer, taking my raised hand in his, "there are worse things that have happened to me than to be linked with you in some way. I'm not worried about it." He gently pushes my hand down, as if bidding me to relax.
Calas offers Chou his hand to flutter down on. She does so as if they have done it a thousand times and Calas returns Chou to my own shoulder.
"Besides," he continues, "I might be able to find you outside of class, now."
"But I'm just down the hall." I scoff at his comment.
"True," Calas shrugs, putting his hands back in his pockets, "but you are sometimes difficult to approach." He shrugs again. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't want to start any fights. Especially not with any of your friends."
Realization strikes me like a blow to the head. He's talking about Cira! The thought is followed closely by another. How am I going to tell her all this? I can't put this in a letter! As my mind tries to sort out that puzzle, Calas walks past me, heading out of the common room.
"Let me know when you are free if you want. To study or whatever." He pauses long enough to look back at me with a boyish grin. "Like you said, I'm just down the hall."
I watch him go and it is not until I can't see him anymore that I head back to my own room. As I walk, I play with the red thread, watching it float and drift, never becoming fully taut.