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tenspontaneite · 1 year

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The Ceracurist (Chapter 8/?)

“That should’ve – you should-“ She couldn’t say it.

His lips twisted, wry and sad. He lowered his hand. “…I should be dead?"

(Chapter length: 8k. Ao3 link)

Chapter warnings: Truthfinding insights into past severe injury, and the long-lasting consequences thereof.

---

Rayla woke to the sensation of weight on her back and shoulders; several sharp points poked into her upper arm, and the sound of the breath of some sort of small animal puffed in her ear. She groaned, hand flailing clumsily up to her back, and it landed in feathers. An inquisitive, birdlike trill followed.

“…Stabby?” she hazarded a guess, still half-asleep, and only remembering that one of the pygmy gryphon’s many names. The creature chirped happily in response, and started preening her hair. Rayla considered this for a second, deemed it acceptable, and then let her hand fall down again. The gryphon continued preening her.

It took a minute of this for her to wake enough to regain her wits, and thereupon she noticed several things in short order. First of which: she was sore in that familiar post-game way, this time diffuse and distributed across her body in a way that matched the impact of the wind-blast she remembered. Her neck was a bit stiff from the blow she’d taken there. It was okay. Second…

She picked at her side. There was a blanket on her, now. It hadn’t been there when she went to sleep. Didn’t even wake up, she thought to herself, a little disparagingly. Apparently alcohol made her sleep pretty deeply. That was important to know.

There was no particular hangover, though. That was nice.

Rayla tolerated the gryphon’s attentions for a while longer, noting that Soren was still asleep and snoring on the sofa opposite, and noting that it was actually pretty early in the morning…at least by student-on-holiday standards, anyway. It was like, eight. She couldn’t hear anyone moving in the house…

…Someone outside, though. In the garden?

She listened, idle and sleepy, for long enough to grow curious. Finally she reached behind her to pick up the gryphon, sitting up and rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck in a series of pops and clicks. It all felt very stiff. She should probably do some stretches.

Absently, she scritched into the neck feathers of the gryphon, smiling at the happy trill that elicited. Then she put the little animal down, and stood to go investigate the quiet shuffling sounds in the garden. Her various tendons and ligaments complained at her as she went.

The doors to the garden were wide open, letting in the warm dewy air of the summer morning. It smelled fresh out there, with that hint of brine that was omnipresent this close to the sea. On the patio close to the house, Callum was standing with his face lifted to the sun, back turned to her; he clearly hadn’t heard her approaching.

His torso was bare and pale in the morning light, and utterly littered with scars.

Still half-asleep, she hadn’t been prepared for the way that took the breath out of her. It felt like being hit in the chest and left winded; she swayed in place, abruptly disoriented, truthfinder’s sense telling her things she wasn’t awake enough to hear. Instead, she was left strangely stunned, lingering at the doorway with half-formed impressions of harm dancing confusingly at the edges of her mind.

Distractedly, she noted that he was doing some kind of arm stretch, though turned away like that she couldn’t quite see what. She shook her head, strangely dizzy, then finally mastered herself enough to call a greeting to him: “Morning?”

He startled, making a wordless sound of surprise as he swivelled around. His startle response seemed to include lifting a finger as if to draw a rune, which she could only approve of. But as he turned to face her-

She saw the scars on his front, too.

Saw the scar on his throat.

“Rayla!” He said, cheerful, eyes lighting up at the sight of her. But she was in no state to reciprocate that warmth. “Wow, you’re up earlier than I thought you’d be. Soren usually sleeps pretty much ‘til lunch, after…game…days?” Finally, he seemed to notice something was amiss. “Er. Is something wrong?”

Rayla lingered, dizzy and motionless, caught in a flood of knowing too intense to break away from. Except then the phantom pains shattered across her skin, and she shuddered, and that was just enough to allow her to tear her eyes away. She spotted a small garden table and chairs nearby, and staggered there unthinkingly, falling into a chair heavily enough that its legs screeched against the patio. She meant to wipe her hands over her face, but somehow ended up clutching her throat instead.

Callum followed, of course. He hurried over and then hovered by her side, hand touching to her shoulder. “Are you hungover?” He asked, pragmatically. “Gonna throw up?”

She managed to laugh, somehow, and shook her head. “I – no. No. It’s…” She cleared her throat, bizarrely surprised that she was still able to breathe. That the words weren’t bubbling through thick blood as she spoke them. “It’s a – truthfinder thing. Just…give me a minute.”

“A – but what could you-“ His voice broke off as, clearly, he made the connection. She’d never seen him shirtless before; she’d never even seen his neck bare. He kept himself covered up, even in the height of summer, for a reason. “…Oh.”

Rayla breathed. Slowly, Callum withdrew his hand. He hesitated for a moment, then lowered himself into one of the other chairs, opposite her own.

“…Are you okay?”

It seemed such an absurd question, with what she’d seen. But then, these scars weren’t new to him, were they? Five years. Maybe six. He’d lived that long with them on his skin, in his flesh. It was an old hurt to him now. He was used to it. “I’ll be fine,” she croaked, and finally got herself to look up. Moon Dying, it really didn’t look any better the second time. “Just – wasn’t expecting that.”

“Sorry. I can…er, put a shirt on? If that would help?” He sounded a little awkward, but earnest all the same.

He’d had it off for a reason, presumably. “Nah. It’s okay. Just…” She exhaled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to check out on you, there.”

He just looked at her. Plainly curious, but leaving it up to her whether or not she wanted to explain. She thought she owed it to him, to explain.

Unwillingly, compulsively, her fingers clutched over the pulse in her throat. She swallowed. “It was…”

“The scars?” He guessed, understandingly. She wondered how many times he’d watched people react to them. Wondered how many had recoiled in horror. Wondered how many had known what they meant.

She shook her head, because it wasn’t that, not really. She’d seen scars. She’d seen his scars, and even seeing his back – that had been horrifying, but not overwhelming.

It was just like his arms, wasn’t it? The whole expanse of his skin, over his arms and shoulders, stretching lengthways and crossways over his back, stretching around his sides and beneath the hem of his trousers. All of it marred with thick, jagged scars, like fissures in stone. Like cracks in ice, if that ice had cracked from something breaking out from within. She could see that now, as she hadn’t been able to with just his arms. She could see it, but she couldn’t understand it. What could have possibly made his skin crack and burst like that?

His front was just the same. Just the same; thick scar tissue like fractures across his form. Up his chest, up his collar, and there – there-

“Your throat,” she said, softly, and his hand twitched up to mirror hers. His fingers grazed lightly over the shape of that terrible scar; thinner and shallower than most on his body, but the location of it – that made all the difference. “That should’ve – you should-“ She couldn’t say it.

His lips twisted, wry and sad. He lowered his hand. “…I should be dead?”

Right into the artery. It was deep enough for that. The arterial spray…even without accounting for the other vicious wounds all over his body, he should’ve bled out in minutes. Unconscious within seconds, and then so soon gone.

He should be dead.

“…Yeah,” she agreed, pulse feeling strange in her throat. She could almost feel the mortal wound, the knowing of it keener than she’d ever wanted it to be. The Moon, and a truthfinder’s talents, had such affinity for death, after all.

Callum nodded, eyes just a little faraway, as if he could feel the ghost of that wound too. “I got…really lucky,” he said in the end, and she wanted to laugh but couldn’t. The only kind of luck that could’ve saved him, she knew, was being within a minute’s distance of an astoundingly talented magical healer.

“…Sorry,” she said quietly, and looked away. “Didn’t mean to barge into your garden and bring up painful memories.” She managed an explanation this time. “Just – truthfinding’s good at death-things. Like mortal wounds.”

He opened his mouth, frowned, then closed it again. He considered something in silence. Then he said, voice a little odd, “That’s in Scion of Shadow, actually. I thought it was just, you know, exaggerated. One of the supernatural elements. But maybe not?”

The thought of the video game was so jarring in this context that she snorted, surprised. “I’ll tell you when I get there, I suppose.”

“Sorry for accidentally hitting you in the truthfinding with my scars,” he offered, rueful. “I was just – it’s my wake-up routine, I didn’t think about it. And I didn’t think you’d be up for a while.”

“I’m usually up early,” she said automatically, without thinking of it, then processed what he’d said. She squinted, then turned her head to look at him properly. Considered what she’d found him in the process of – stretches? She took a fresh look at his scars and instantly understood. “…Physiotherapy?”

He looked surprised for a second, then impressed. He nodded, then gestured at himself with a splayed hand. “Yeah. All – this – kind of, you know. Caused problems? So…”

Rayla considered each visible line of scarring, letting the knowledge snap into place behind her eyes as it aligned with all she knew of human and elven bodies. All the muscles, the tendons, the nerves. “Lots of stretches and exercises,” she guessed, though she already knew. “Keep your mobility and strength up as much as you can.”

“I do pretty well, considering.” He shrugged, and actually did seem pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. She had no doubt, looking at him then, that he’d been doing these stretches every day for years. “So long as I keep on top of it, I’m actually not much less mobile than I should be.”

“I can tell,” she said honestly. If he’d been severely hampered by those scars, she’d have noticed the moment she met him. Instead, due to his hard work and – she suddenly knew – lots and lots of surgery, he just came across as kind of stilted-looking at times, and that was all. He’d never be able to manage the sort of strength and flexibility an uninjured man could train for, but through herculean effort…he’d got himself this far.

It was honestly very impressive.

She carefully ignored the stupid besotted part of her that appreciated that impressiveness more than it ought.

“I should get back to it, actually,” he said, a little awkwardly. He wanted to keep sitting with her, let himself be distracted by talk, but – this routine was so ingrained it was almost ritual by now. He woke up; he did his exercises. Always, every day, no matter what else was going on. Rayla could see that in him, clear as anything. “If you want to go raid the kitchen for breakfast, you should feel free? Or, whatever you want, really.”

Rayla considered it, and considered him. He hadn’t been expecting this encounter, nor her reactions, but he didn’t necessarily want her to go. She didn’t particularly want to go, either. “…If you don’t mind, I might join you,” she said, slowly. “I’ve got a stretching routine of my own, y’know. Not like yours, and I’m not so consistent at it. But…”

He looked surprised, then pleased. “Oh, right, you’re an agility-and-stealth fighter, yeah.” He stood, then nodded to the little garden shed off to the side. “Want a mat? I was about to get one out, anyway.”

“Please.” She stood as well, and watched him leave and then return with two broad mats, made of some sort of flexible and layered woven reed. They didn’t roll up; he just dragged them out, letting their edges scrape against the patio, then let them each fall heavily down. He flashed her a smile, then got on his own and returned to work.

Rayla was perfectly used to doing stretches and exercises in groups, though it had been a while. The most she ever did with her bellator teammates was warm-up stretches before training, or before a game. But setting up here, preparing for her full exercises with another person…it was unexpectedly affecting. She felt a pang of homesickness yet again, missing training with Runaan, but settled in to work anyway.

She started more cautiously than usual; she did have yesterday’s aches and pains to work out, after all. But before long she was easing into the usual stretches, gently pushing the limits of her flexibility, letting her body loosen up into the limberness she’d worked so diligently for over the years. Callum worked, too. His exercises were very different – excruciatingly careful stretches, small repetitive strengthening exercises, working pretty much all the way down his body. He sat down on the mat to work on his legs, and she understood without needing to ask or see that the scarring extended there as well.

What happened to him? She wondered, but didn’t try to know the answer. For now, the morning was quiet and peaceful, and she could feel sunlight on her skin. Birdsong was alive in the air, and she was ‘training’ with someone she liked for the first time in months. Both of them worked in comfortable silence. It was…nice.

“This was nice,” Callum said, once they were done and putting the mats away, as though to directly echo her thoughts. “Sometimes Soren works out with me but it’s not the same, you know? That’s all…energetic. Not…” He searched for a word.

“Calm,” Rayla offered, quiet. Some part of her was feeling strange about it. Every other time she’d spent with him hadn’t been anywhere near calm. “Meditative?”

“Yeah.” He flashed her a smile, went to put his shirt back on, then turned to head indoors. She followed.

Every time she’d met him or spoken to him, she’d either been mortified, socially awkward, nervous, excited about gaming, or some combination thereof. It hadn’t quite occurred to her that she could be comfortable with him. The lassitude of it lingered, settling easily along the languid relaxation in her limbs. Her heart fluttered.

Soren was still asleep on the sofa when they went in, with Stabby the gryphon curled up on his chest in a perfect orb of feathers and fur. She spied a blanket underneath, similar to the one she’d woken beneath, and glanced sideways at Callum as they went quietly through to the kitchen.

“Where did the blankets come from…?” She murmured to him, settling at the table where he indicated, and watching distractedly as he went to rummage in the coldbox. His shirt, though back in place, was not long-sleeved. He wasn’t wearing a scarf, either. The scars were very, very visible.

He paused, and it took him a second to figure out what she was talking about. “Oh, that was me,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m kind of used to slinging one over Soren when he comes back late like that, honestly. He always crashes on the couch. And it’s not the first time a friend joined him, either. So.” He shrugged, then nodded to the contents of the box. “Is there anything you feel like? We’ve still got loads of leftovers from the party, if you, you know, don’t mind eating dinner or dessert for breakfast.”

She blinked, abruptly realising that she was being offered food. Her belly rumbled. “Er. No, I don’t mind,” she said, and then over a series of exchanges negotiated her way through the options to be presented with a plate of cold fruit pie, no longer particularly crisp, but still tasty. Callum opted for a slice of his birthday cake, keeping up a quiet but inquisitive chatter throughout the meal.

“City team won, of course,” she said ruefully, when asked how the game had gone. “We pretty much suck in open combat scenarios. We’ve lost almost every time. Wasn’t any different yesterday. Plus, their Earth mage has been training to counter me, apparently.”

His eyes lit up at that. “Amata, right? Soren said she’d been working on something.” He paused, then added “I wasn’t supposed to tell you before the match, though. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for not giving up team secrets.” She shook her head at him, amused. “Honestly though, I think she should’ve sat on it for longer before trying it. Another month, maybe, until she got better range. She couldn’t detect me in her earth until I was pretty close.”

“Probably they were just kinda desperate. They’ve really been pushing for finding counters for you, ever since that match you nearly won the game without your team even hitting anyone,” Callum claimed, grinning a little. “And you have the highest average kill count in your team, apparently? Of course, when I was hearing all this, it was about Stabby Moonshadow Girl, but…you know.”

Rayla snorted. “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said, after a moment. “The kill count, I mean.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “How many knockouts did you get yesterday, then?”

“Uh.” She tried to think. “I don’t know?” There’d been Ligorus, at the start, and the Earthblood mage, and both of Soren’s melee buddies… “Maybe four?”

“So, nearly half the team on your own, you mean.” His tone was dry.

“Technically Soren too, but it was kind of a double knockout,” she added, lips twitching now despite herself.

“So actually half the team?”

She huffed. “Suppose so.” She considered it, and shrugged. “Suppose it makes sense they want to poach me, then.”

Predictably, this led to her relating some of the distinctly graceless recruitment attempts she’d endured last night, and that carried them through the rest of breakfast, the washing up thereof, and some awkward loitering thereafter. As soon as the topic petered out, they were left standing there aimlessly, half-leaning against the kitchen counters.

After what had been a surprisingly comfortable morning, the return of that awkwardness was jarring. Rayla cleared her throat, and glanced towards the door. “I should probably get going,” she offered, haltingly, following her first impulse. “I need to find a toothbrush. My breath tastes like booze.” It had been an excuse, but abruptly she wrinkled her nose, because it was true. The breakfast hadn’t quite managed to banish the distinctive tang of ‘you drank last night and then didn’t brush your teeth’.

Callum opened his mouth as though to suggest something, then shut it, looking embarrassed. Then he nodded, and obligingly followed her to the hallway, where she’d unthinkingly dumped her bellatorium pack alongside Soren’s as they got in. “That’s yours, right?” He asked, leaning to pick it up for her. He blinked. “Wow, this is way lighter than Soren’s.”

“Makes sense. I don’t use heavy armour.” She shrugged, and accepted it, slinging it over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

It should have been the right time for him to farewell her. Maybe open the door. Instead he lingered there, awkward but earnest, like he didn’t quite want to see her leave yet. “…Do you have much going on today?” He asked eventually, trying for casual and failing.

Rayla eyed him warily. “Training, in the evening. Aside from that, not really.” A pause. “Why?”

“I mean.” He cleared his throat. “If you don’t have plans – if you don’t mind – I could…come with you? We could hang out? It’s been a while since I visited the student residential wings, but – it’s not too far, right?”

She stared at him. It took her a few long seconds to formulate a response. “Callum,” she said, slowly. “Callum, no.”

He wilted. “Oh. Sorry. I mean, if you don’t-“

“No, it’s not that,” she cut him off, in response to his obvious anxiety that he’d overstepped. “It’s – Callum, you did not just offer to go off with me alone without your bodyguard or any of your friends knowing where you are.” Her voice was incredulous, and rightfully so. “Me, a suspicious elf with stealth, infiltration, and assassination training.”

“…Oh.” He abruptly looked embarrassed. “I mean…”

“You know your security people haven’t cleared me yet!” She shook her head at him, disbelievingly. “It’s like you’re asking to get kidnapped.”

“Soren trusts you!” Callum defended. “I can tell! He wouldn’t have brought you back last night if he didn’t.”

“That’s not the point,” she said, exasperated. “If I was your bodyguard you’d be getting so lectured right now.”

He smiled suddenly, and it was overwhelmingly charming. “What, more lectured than I am already?”

Her cheeks flushed. She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t get cheeky, or I’m telling Soren on you.” Despite the words, she couldn’t quite stop her lips from twitching. Dumb human, she thought.

“Yes, ma’am.” He flashed a grin at her, then ruefully went for the door. “Okay, then, no hanging out. Maybe some other time?”

She sighed at him, smiling helplessly. “Maybe so,” she allowed, hefting her bag and heading for the doorway. “…Bye, Callum.”

“See you later,” was his response to that, and…somehow, she knew she’d probably get home to find a Sunbeam message waiting for her.

She turned and left before the nonsense her heart was up to could show on her face.

---

After the walk home, Rayla took immediate refuge in the shared bathroom and didn’t emerge for the better part of an hour. When at last she collapsed fully onto her familiar bed, the computer was indeed blinking at her, and it was closer to midday than she’d have really preferred. She’d have to see about lunch, soon.

Wistfully, the besotted part of her mind wished that she’d been less sensible about things and allowed Callum to come along after all. It’d have been nice, grabbing lunch somewhere. Except – that would kind of be too much like – “Ugh,” she said aloud to herself, then finally went to check on her Sunbeam.

Her inbox was busy. From Runaan: a missed call, and a demand she call back, undoubtedly on the topic of the background check and the secrets she’d been keeping. From Kazi: a request for another Antiquitora meet-up. From Callum….

How far of a walk is it from here to your wing, anyway? That, sent very soon after she’d left the house, apparently an idle thought. And later by about an hour: Soren says thank you for not killing or kidnapping me while he was asleep. I think he’s joking? I think.

She huffed at that one, amused, and typed back: Aren’t you glad I didn’t take you up on your offer?

He was apparently at his computer, because a response was not long in coming. Yeah I’d have maybe gotten super told off for that one, now that I think about it. I wanted to hang out though :(

Rayla rolled her eyes at him over the screen, weirdly touched. We can call or something, it’s fine.

Apparently, he seemed to interpret this as an indicator to call now. Rayla blinked at the screen, startled, and when she reflexively accepted the call was very glad that she’d bothered to put a dressing gown on. “I didn’t mean now,” she greeted him, exasperated, and he smiled lopsidedly at her.

“Does that mean not-now, then?” He inquired, unbothered. He’d dressed more fully since she left, clad in new clothes that covered his arms, his usual red scarf around his neck. None of the scars were visible. “Like, is now a bad time?”

Rayla frowned, then hedged “Kinda? I should probably call Runaan soon, or he’ll…I don’t know, show up at my wing at three in the morning to lecture me or something.”

He blinked at her. “Who’s Runaan?”

“Oh.” Somehow, it hadn’t quite occurred to her how little Callum knew about her. One of many problems with being a truthfinder, she supposed. “He’s my…er…” She fell silent to mull over choices of words.

They’d always reacted weirdly when she called them her parents, so she generally didn’t, if they could hear it. It felt weird to call them uncles, though.

“He’s kind of one of my parents but not really,” she settled on eventually, just a little uncomfortable. “He and his husband raised me, though.”

Weirdly, he frowned at that. “But I thought – your parents…” He trailed off. “No, never mind, that’s – sorry, ignore me.”

For a second, she thought he looked embarrassed because he’d been about to ask something prying. But then she looked again. “What do you know about my parents?” She questioned, leaning forwards, suddenly alert. Did the background check come back already? No, surely not. It had only been a day.

He winced. “No, it’s nothing, I just – I shouldn’t have assumed, don’t worry about it. So, you were raised by this – Runaan?”

Rayla eyed him, deeply suspicious. He knew something about her parents, or at least thought he did. How? Why? She’d never spoken to him about them before.

Truthfinding nudged a flicker of memory a little closer: that moment at the game night, where Callum had looked at her name on the paper, Rayla of the Silvergrove, and had recognised the name of her hometown. Now a flash of insight – he’d recognised her name, specifically. Rayla of the Silvergrove reminded him of something that Rayla alone had not.

What under the Moon did that mean?

She was on the verge of opening her mouth to ask a sharp, prying question, but then – she stopped, reminding himself that he’d been able to answer The Security Question just fine. Whatever he knew, it wasn’t a threat. She didn’t need to follow it up. “You,” she declared, instead, “Are a pain in the truthfinding.”

He looked sheepish. “Sorry?”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “So, yes, I was raised by Runaan, and his husband Ethari, because my parents have important jobs that mean they need to live on-site. Which…” She stared at him, eyes narrowed, and really couldn’t help herself this time. “…You knew, didn’t you? You know who my parents are. You knew before anyone did a background check on me.” She paused, calculating. “You knew it a long time ago. Before you even met me…” She cut off at that last word, starkly aware of the subtle shift in his expression. Bewildered, she blinked at him. “…Not before you met me? How does that work?”

“You would make a great interrogator,” Callum commented ruefully, instead of answering any of that. It didn’t really stop her mind from working.

They’d met at a horn salon less than a month ago, or so she’d very sensibly assumed. But looking at him now…

“Have we met before?” She demanded, incredulous. It was the only thing that made sense. “Before last month? How?”

They had. She could see it, clear as moonlight, in the way he winced. What in Xadia’s name- “Please at least wait for the background check to come back?” He pleaded, pained. “I know you could probably just figure it out now, but – the security guys will get really annoyed if I have to tell them you know before I’m allowed to tell you-“

“Yes, yes, whatever,” she cut him off, half-automatic, mind whirring even as she tried to cut it off. She hadn’t met many humans before him, not at all. The ones she had, to her knowledge, hadn’t been anyone important, and besides, that had been-

Had been-

Nope, she told herself, very firmly, and cut off the track of her thoughts before it could go any further. Nope, nope, none of that. Stop. “Bloody Moon,” she muttered to herself, and shook her head. Aggressively, she went back to the topic of conversation that they’d sort of abandoned: “Anyway, Runaan found out that I’d made friends with someone who rates a bodyguard and then didn’t tell him about it, so now he’s going to lecture me. The longer I wait the longer the lecture will get, so.”

Callum appeared to consider this. “I can relate to that,” he concluded, in the end.

She eyed him, amused. “What, did you get told off for…” She thought about it, and guessed: “…not saying anything until Soren put a report in?”

Long-suffering, he sighed. “Yeah, pretty much.” He smiled ruefully at her. “Better let you get to that lecture, huh?”

“Probably for the best,” she agreed, her arcanum itching insistently at her. She ignored it.

With a few parting words, they dropped the call, and Rayla stared at her screen for a long while in silence afterwards. Better get it over with, she thought, determinedly ignoring all of the revelations she’d gleaned from that conversation, and went to get dressed. Runaan’s dressing-down would be easier to face if she wasn’t in a dressing-gown.

Predictably, he had a lot to say on the topic of good sense and security. Rayla sighed and suffered through it, agreed dutifully at relevant points, and then was finally released.

She had a lot to think about, but couldn’t think about any of it right now. Not without breaking trust. Rayla groaned, then grabbed her arrays textbook to scour her mind clear. If anything could get her head out of Callum’s nonsense, it was studying.

---

Training that evening was pretty calm, given they’d just had a game the previous day. Rayla received praise for her conduct, questioning regarding her contact with the other team, and then ended up reporting the few pertinent details she’d gleaned.

“Amata is being pushed to train as a counter to me, and has been for a while,” she offered, and “The other team wants to recruit me, but I told them no.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” said Legata, and then they were off into training again. It was all very standard. Rayla’s teammates went the usual full range from pretty decent to disappointing, and she thought longingly of Team Auriga and their consistent training and good unit cohesion and actual sense of motivation.

The only motivation here is me and Legata’s boots up their arses, she thought sourly. A few of the front-runners like Stavian and Lacrian weren’t too bad, but the rest? She wished she could break into their rooms and abduct them for training like Runaan had done to her whenever she got surly and tried to slack off. That’d shape them up in a hurry.

If only. She sighed and just did her best to push through.

Rayla returned home to find a pending contact request from Soren on her Sunbeam. She blinked at it, and upon accepting, was faced with a message unceremoniously asking when they were meeting up to spar tomorrow.

Oh, right. They had arranged that, hadn’t they? And then she’d forgotten to specify a place or time. Hastily, she went for the city’s system on the mageskein and had a look through the bookings until she found a decent training ground with an open slot.

One to three? She suggested, in the end, switching back to Sunbeam. He agreed, so she booked the field and sent him the location, and that was that.

I’m bringing Callum, just so you know, he told her, and then signed off. Rayla was left blinking at the screen, and wondering if he meant that Callum would be sparring, or just watching. She wondered, too, whether his old injuries made combat difficult for him. He’d worked hard for his mobility, that much was very clear, but did he suffer pains when moving quickly? Did it agitate his internal damage when he was hit? She didn’t know.

The next day proved her speculation moot.

“I’m just here to watch,” Callum clarified, arriving alongside Soren and planting himself at the edge of the training field with what looked like extremely long practice. Evidently, he was used to accompanying Soren to training. He had a few books with him, as though he were planning on doing some work while his bodyguard was busy. “And, you know, get passively guarded, I guess.”

Handily distracted, Rayla peered at him, then raised an eyebrow at Soren. “What is with your bodyguarding schedule, anyway? It seems…” She searched for a word. “Inconsistent.”

“Aren’t any active threats we need to worry about, and pretty much no one knows he’s here, so we don’t need to worry too much,” Soren replied easily, extracting a battered-looking airsheath from his pack and applying it to his sword with a familiar click. Belatedly, Rayla did the same; the things were expensive, so she only had personal airsheaths for her butterfly blades. She wouldn’t be able to use her throwing knives. “If people ever actually try to target him, they won’t be looking in Gullcrest.”

Rayla nodded slowly, glancing sidelong at Callum as she prepared her blades. “Where do people think you are, then?” She asked, directing it at him. “Are you…not well-known enough for it to not be noticed, that you’ve been gone for years?”

Soren snickered and Callum grimaced. “No, uh, that’d have definitely been noticed,” he said, looking a bit down in the mouth about it. “If I’d disappeared that long ago, I mean. No, er…” He looked uncomfortable.

“You might as well just say it, y’know,” Soren told him. “It’s not like she doesn’t know you’re important by this point.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the voice of caution, here?” He grumbled back at him, then sighed. “I have a body double,” he relented in the end, glancing sheepishly at her. “He’s in an illusion to look and sound like me, and he’s attending college somewhere more…normal.”

Rayla absorbed that, blinking slowly. After the whole Head of the KBIS thing, it didn’t actually surprise her much that Callum was important enough to rate a body double. It made sense, honestly. It’d be weird for him to be able to hang out so flagrantly in Gullcrest with a pretty obvious bodyguard and his real name…unless everyone knew that the important Callum was off in some obvious human location, so obviously this couldn’t be him…

And that was a thought, wasn’t it.

She remembered what Ethari had said on their call, just a few days ago. He’d recognised the name Callum in the context of ‘important Katolian human’, and then commented something like…something about it being weird if it was him, because ‘he’ was ostensibly off at- “The something something Duren Art Academy?” She muttered, mostly to herself, but – it wasn’t hard to see the way that both Callum and Soren stiffened at that.

“Do you know?” Callum practically cried, half-standing from where he’d been quite comfortably settled in the grass. “I thought – you didn’t-“

“I don’t,” Rayla cut him off, and both humans watched her warily. “It’s just – something my guardian said, when he was worried about the background check. I told him your name, and he recognised it, but said it would be weird if it was you, because…” She waved her hand, as if inviting him to follow it up.

Shoulders slumping, and falling back to the ground, he did. “Because I’m supposedly studying at the Grand Duren Academy of the Arts,” Callum sighed, now a little rueful. “Well. I guess the cover works.”

“That’s kinda the point of it, yeah,” Soren agreed, but he still looked tense.

Rayla stared at him directly. “I’ve been actively avoiding looking up anything on him, or Katolis news, ever since I agreed to try not to figure out who he is,” she said, quashing her annoyance. It was sensible for him to be suspicious about something like this. “That hasn’t changed. I haven’t secretly known this whole time, or anything. I just – recognised that something Ethari said matched up with this.”

Soren observed her for a few more terse seconds, then slowly nodded. “Sorry,” he offered, and finally relaxed. “I can get touchy about…” He gestured vaguely, apparently not finding the words.

“The idea that a potential threat might’ve been running a long con?” Rayla offered dryly. “Don’t apologise. I think that’s just doing your job.”

Callum buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Can you maybe call home about this?” He asked Soren, despairingly. “It’s just stupid at this point. She could literally figure it out with a single skein search now. It’d take like, a second. What’s the point in waiting for the background check?”

“The point,” Rayla said, before Soren could, “Is knowing whether your people need to extract you for your safety or not. If my check comes back dodgy, they’ll want to put more security on you, or maybe make you leave Gullcrest completely. It’s not like you could just put on an illusion disguise and stick around, after all. I can see those.” She shook her head at his wide eyes. “Just think about it for a second, Callum. If I’m a dangerous actor – if I’m running a con here – I’m a huge threat to your safety. It doesn’t matter if you or Soren trust me. Your people need to do everything they can to clear me before they let you endanger yourself more.”

“But if you were running a con, you’d have known about me from the start, right? Why else would you be targeting me?” Callum reasoned, after a pause for thought. “There’s still no point in making me restrict your information until the check is done. Because either you’re lying and you knew all along, or you’re telling the truth and have good intentions. Right?”

She considered it. “I could’ve just stumbled on you by accident and then considered you a good mark, and sent word home to my potential dubious connections,” she pointed out. “In that context, I’d not have stopped myself from truthfinding your identity, but I also wouldn’t have known from the start. Still, you’re right about the information thing being mostly futile.”

“Mostly?” Callum repeated, with interest.

Rayla thought it through once, twice, and then a third time. She nodded. “Your security people know I could figure this out at any time,” she said, glancing at Soren, who was listening to this all with arms folded and eyebrow raised. “They’re pretty much asking me to wait until the background check is done. I doubt the identity information is the only thing that’s waiting on the background check, right? So, the point…” She shook her head and sighed. “It’s a show of good faith.”

Callum blinked. “…What?”

“They’re asking me to hold off on knowing,” Rayla assessed, and it made a little more sense the more she thought of it. “To wait for confirmation. Permission. It’s…a show of good faith on my part. And…” She frowned. “Trustworthiness? I can figure out important and sensitive information whenever I want. They need to know they can trust me not to, if I’m told to hold back.”

“They haven’t told you anything, though,” he pointed out, bewildered. “They told me.”

“And you think that wasn’t obvious to me?” She shook her head again. “No, that’s as good as telling me. If they know anything about truthfinders, even rumours, they’d know that.”

“Good information about truthfinders isn’t exactly easy to find, you know,” Soren pointed out, speaking for the first time in a while. Apparently he’d not guessed, or been informed of, the games his handlers were playing. “Are you sure they knew you’d know?”

Rayla thought about it, then felt about it. “…Yeah, I’m sure,” she said at last. “They’re testing me. I don’t know exactly why, but…”

But, she had some ideas. Judging by the look of him, Soren did too.

“I’ve been mostly holding back because I said I would,” she admitted, back at Callum this time. “I didn’t guess that your security people were testing me. But…I doubt your identity is the only politically sensitive thing you’re hiding-“ He flinched. “-so, they do need to know if they can trust me around you. It…makes sense.”

“Wouldn’t a lot of that be being able to trust you to keep secrets, not just…avoiding figuring them out?” Soren wondered.

“I’m a Moonshadow elf,” Rayla told him dryly. “Hiding things and keeping secrets comes naturally to us. Hence all the suspicion about me.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” Soren shrugged. “So I guess we’re still waiting for that background check. Anyway, basically we try not to leave Callum alone without someone who could back him up in a fight nearby, but we don’t…completely guard-guard him unless something weird’s going on, or there’s something in the news, or whatever.”

“Something in the news?” Rayla parroted, glancing at Callum.

He cleared his throat, and looked away. “Anti-human stuff,” he offered, succinctly. “Or…you know. Protests.” Something dark flickered across his eyes at that. A brief shadow of pain.

Rayla carefully did not interpret that. When Soren cast a sympathetic look over at Callum, she didn’t interpret that either. Instead she said “Fair enough,” and fixed Soren with a pointed stare. “So, are we actually going to train today, or…?”

Soren blinked, then grinned. “Yeah, we got a little side-tracked, huh,” he acknowledged, then hefted his sword. “I’m ready if you are.”

“…Not wearing full armour?”

“Nah. Too much of a pain to clean mud out of it.”

She nodded. “Rules?”

“To yield or bellatorium knockout?” He suggested.

They didn’t have lightfilms, but with only the two of them, they’d be perfectly capable of tracking what an incapacitating blow would be. “Works for me,” she agreed, and then they adjourned to separate ends of the training field to stretch and get ready.

Callum was watching with interest by the time they started their first bout, and whether or not he’d been intending to do some work with those books he’d brought, that trend continued through the whole of their allotted time in the field. Instead of studying, he just stared avidly, looking profoundly impressed every time she glanced over between matches.

In the end, Rayla won six to Soren’s three, and both of them were covered in bits of grass and smears of mud by the time they called it quits. Rayla pulled Soren up from the last one with a grin, and he mirrored it back at her. “We should do this again,” she said, without preamble. Her heart was still beating rapidly from exertion, the familiar pleasure of adrenaline and a well-fought match thrumming in her veins. She’d missed sparring with someone like this.

“Damn right we should,” he agreed, and rolled his shoulders. They clicked. “Maybe next time we shouldn’t train right before I’ve got Honour Games training, though.”

She blinked. “You have training now?”

“In a couple hours, but, yeah. It’s probably gonna hurt.” Despite the words, he seemed entirely unbothered.

Given she would’ve probably done the exact same, if need be, she could empathise. “Do some stretches,” she advised, then glanced over at Callum, appraising. “Are you going to training, too?” She did remember hearing that he tagged in to the team sometimes, as a Sky mage.

He’d still been staring. At being addressed, he flushed a little, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh. I might join in on some spell practice,” he admitted. “It’s been a while. And everyone has been trying to get me to train more lately…”

“Or always,” Soren reminded him, and walked over to pull him to his feet, books and all. “You know. Just pointing out that some of us have been trying to get you to train more always.”

He sighed, but didn’t respond.

Soren looked over at Rayla and lifted an eyebrow. It was half-way between daring and challenging. He looked like he was about to start making some really unsubtle nods in Callum’s direction, but she got the point plenty well before that.

Say something, he was basically imploring her. Motivate him. He’ll listen to you.

Rayla considered why Soren’s Honour Games team might be wanting to push for the participation of another mage recently and grinned. “Train up,” she advised Callum, looking him straight in the eye. “Next time I fight Team Auriga, I want to see you on the roster.”

His face coloured rapidly. “I don’t even play in the games!”

Soren snorted. “You totally do.”

“Twice!” Callum protested. “I’m not even that great as a battle-mage! I’d probably last like, a minute! You’d murder me as soon as the game started!” This last part, he directed at her.

She debated what she was going to do for all of a second, and before she could lose her nerve, strode up close to him. Prodded him in the chest, just where his scarf terminated. “Give it a try,” she invited, a fair bit closer to his face than was necessary. “I’d like to find out for myself how good a mage you are.”

“Um,” he squeaked, heart rate accelerating audibly. “Okay?”

Her lips twitched, just a little. “Okay,” she echoed, and withdrew. She tried to act casual about it as she went for her pack, like she was just coincidentally choosing right then to get her stuff and go. Instead of, you know, fleeing immediately after her first ever attempt at sort-of-flirting with someone. “I’ll let you two get on, then. If you’ve got training so soon…” She shrugged, faux-nonchalant.

Soren looked amused, but he nodded. “Sure. Catch you later?”

Blades stowed and bag over her shoulder, Rayla inclined her head. Cool and collected, was she. Not even slightly retreating. “Not if I catch you first,” was the automatic response to that, and she turned to leave.

“…See you tomorrow?” Callum offered then, and she nodded at him without ever pausing to consider the meaning behind it.

It was only later, back home, that she realised that she couldn’t remember any sort of agreement to hang out that Wednesday, nor any mention of a club meeting or sparring session that might bring them together. Finally, a little confused, Rayla checked her calendar.

Marked for tomorrow, the twenty-first of July, she had pencilled in a tiny furtive note.

Horn salon appointment. 4.30pm. Same ceracurist.

Rayla stared. She spent an extremely poignant moment realising exactly what that meant. And then she buried her face in her hands.

Oh no.

---

End chapter.

BABY’S FIRST FLIRT. Kind of! I hope you’re all proud of her.

Anyway I just want you to know that, because I love scars, The Callum Scars have been an ongoing major source of inspiration for this fic, such that when I finished chapter 7 and realised that the Scarring Reveal Scene would be next chapter I got so excited about it I couldn’t sleep and then I was too tired the next day to actually write it. Rip. But I got there eventually and I’m so very glad to share Callum’s exotic scarring with all of you. Plus all the other cool stuff this chapter. I’m generally just very excited about how many mystery and other plotlines got development in ch8.

Actually wrote all of this chapter in like November or something, but didn’t get around to publishing it until now because January hit like a very rude train. Comments appreciated, might help me keep my head in the game a lil.

Next chapter: we finally make the story earn its title again. Plus, you know, some other stuff.

Notes:

Truthfinding and death: Being Moon-aligned, the truthfinding ability is especially sensitive towards death, and will be stronger in circumstances where a death has occurred or nearly occurred. For a powerful and trained truthfinder like Rayla, seeing the scars of would-be-mortal wounds unexpectedly can trigger illusory sensations relevant to the wound. In some very specific circumstances, it could trigger considerably more than that.

Callum's scarring: It's safe to say that it's extensive, and runs across pretty much his entire body. The scars are thinnest and least severe towards his extremities, nearly absent on hands and feet and head, and worst towards centre of torso. That’s about all I’ll share for now though. You can bet there'll be more detail on the scars and their provenance in the future.

Throat wounds: It is possible to survive your throat being cut, even if the arteries are hit, but it’s strongly dependent on immediate medical care and a whole lot of luck. You’ll generally pass out from blood loss in seconds, and be dead in minutes if the bleeding isn’t staunched. And for suffocation reasons you can’t exactly tourniquet a neck like you would a limb. Since Callum had a lot of other blood loss going on at the time, he definitely wouldn’t have survived without very, very prompt magical healing.

Callum's body double: He's a professional hired for the job, has to be the same general height and build as Callum to make the disguise more error-proof but other than that the Moon-magic illusions take care of everything.

#tdp #tdp fic #tdp rayla #tdp callum #tdp soren #the ceracurist #ceracurist au #rayllum

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