"Ewww!" Wescherlie said. "Ewww! But there's no icky drool."

"She's glad you're safe. Yilna," Precense called and his wolfish Faud jumped up in the air and turned into a wisp of yellow and black smoke. The smoke swirled around Cypur for a moment before slipping back inside Precense. He grunted when it entered and raised a brow at Cypur.

"Was that...the Faud things that Sorcerers have?" Wescherlie shook her head as if trying to fling something from her face although there was no drool to fling. "And stop dallying and dillying, Precense." She glared at him as he calmly smirked. "You have to tell us about yourself, or I'll kidnap your Faud."

"I'd like to see you try," he said as Wescherlie narrowed her eyes at him. Then he let out a long sigh and stretched his arms back over his head. "It's quite a complicated story how I got here. I used to be a prodigy. Well, I guess I still am, but I'd rather not be. It led me to exile. Three things contributed to this fate.

"First, getting a Faud early, at ten, believe it or not, before I even knew the basic spells. I became a Junior at thirteen surpassing everyone. I was a debate master already, taking classes and attending lectures only for Scholars," He turned to Wescherlie, "that's the next up after Junior."

"I know how Sorcerer ranks work!" She huffed, but then whispered, "So what's after Scholar?"

"Professor," Cypur said. "Precense is now a Professor."

"Of course, I knew that! But Professor doesn't always mean teacher, right? That always confused me." Wescherlie leaned her elbows on the table and Precense continued.

"Like many young males of the Junior rank, I turned to bounty hunting. Joined a union, I still have the cape with the insignia on it. Talent made me their leader for a while. I worked for many top Sorcerers including the notorious Alsinda, at the time. Helped capture Kathula. I regret it now. As you know, possession of Kathula after the Great Sigh—"

"Ugh, that's such a stupid name!" Wescherlie butted in.

"—when the powerful scepter was used to wish for peace. So then hunting Kathula became illegal, and it was put on my record."

Precense pursed his lips now and dropped his head with a shake of his head. "Male love was the last straw. I was barely aware of it. Witnesses say I was watching a certain Sorcerer a lot." He shrugged. "I was just thinking at the time, it would be nice if I knew him as much as he knew me. Because who doesn't know the male with the twice-name?"

"Do twice-names happen a lot?" Wescherlie asked, toying with her hair. "I haven't heard many."

"It's a bit old fashioned," Precense said with a light chuckle. "I once knew a female called Ervrilian ti Vrilian-Ervrilian Varilian."

"Er, what?" Wescherlie stuck out her tongue. "Makes me tongue-tied just hearing you say it. Tongue-tied to the place of no return," She smacked her lips, "well, semi-no return."

Precense is a male-lover like me? Cypur was thinking as Precense and Wescherlie made fun of twice-names. He never expected a Sorcerer to even admit he was a male-lover.

"Anyway," Precense met Cypur's eyes, "that's all me. As I said, we're alike, you and me. So, where are you off to? She told me as much as Zarkentauf, but—"

"But we need a Zarkizoff to get into Zarkizoff, right?" Wescherlie asked.

"Zarkentauf," Cypur corrected her, "Yeah, that's the rule."

Precense tapped his fingers on the table. "You can try Priviturn Lake. There's an old lady there living at the cusp of included and exiled. She used to live in Zarkentauf, from what I've heard. You would go northward through the woodland and eventually arrive at the rocky border. I could take you there. I know a backstreet kind of way."

They agreed on the plan. In a few hours, they would leave. Precense insisted they rest and took Wescherlie to a room. Cypur wasn't tired, so he stayed in the sitting room to wait for Precense.

What a day, or days it had been. Was he really a runaway now? Were they really after him for murder and magick? And how convenient it was for police and Alsinda. For jailing purposes, a Sorcerer's magick was partially extracted to weaken their magick and prevent them from leaving. Fully, when they were jailed for life to promise a slow death depending on the age. But no Sorcerer had ever been imprisoned for life.

Alsinda bargaining with the police. He pondered. She has guts, I'll give her that.

He flexed his fingers and tried a little fire spell, letting the flame contribute to the one in the furnace. White, as always, and he didn't feel anything extra in his chest. No surge of powers, no tingling, tickling sensations, nothing.

"Precense," he said, sensing the male in the room, "how do you get a Faud?"

"Well," Precense sat next to him and folded his hands across his stomach, leaning back, "it just comes. You don't make it come."

Cypur recalled something in a book. Magick detection but made for higher ranks. He held out his hands. "You're a Professor, can you tell if there's anything wrong with me?"

He grunted and faced him. Then he took Cypur's hand facing them palm up. He placed his palms on top and closed his eyes. Modern runic symbols in various shades of light to dark green, surfaced to Precense' hand and touched Cypur's wrist. They slipped between their hands, tickling their palms as they flitted about.

"Seems developed fine," Precense said after a while, "How old are you again?"

"Fifteen."

Precense nodded slowly. "Exceptional for your age then, hmm?"

Why does that even matter? Cypur bit back his response. It was the Faud that mattered. If his magick was fine, why wasn't his Faud coming out? Where was it?

A sudden surge of magick, a single bolt, zipped across his arm and shocked them apart. Precense swore and Cypur toppled over the sofa upside down. He hit his knees hard on the floor. The breath had been knocked out of him and when he tried to stand, his vision darkened with pulsating dizziess. He sat on the floor until it subsided. Precense came to his side.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have dug so deep." Worry clouded his face as he furrowed his brows. "Your magick is just trying to protect. It's my fault. I'll get you warm tea, it could help," he said.

What was that? Cypur nodded, feeling his head pulse. Head pounding, he lay down and closed his eyes. He heard Precense move to the door muttering, "Hostile. So, it's true."

He played those words over and over in his mind. Soon, the feeling eased, but he was beginning to wonder more and more if the principal was right. Maybe he was a danger to society?

* * *

A few hours later, they were on the road again. During the rest, Cypur actually fell into a dreamless sleep and was well-rested, ready to go when he woke. They had some white bread and cheese before they left. Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving a chilling fog clinging to the roads, the walls, and the shabby houses of Boridianverie. Wescherlie and Precense chattered on. Cypur followed behind, stuck in his mind, thinking out a plan.

Find parents, but then what?

He knew he needed to figure out his magick before that. Being Human-born would mean going to the First Ring to find them. Any magick accident couldn't be subdued there. The High Collection that ruled the world would order the Sorcerer Police faction to keep him in jail, no doubt. Or at least get rid of his magick.

Ever be known as the murderous male-lover. He paused when he caught Wescherlie smiling at him, beckoning for him to catch up. He remembered what she said about cutting some pie called 'slack'. He sighed. He wasn't always this negative and sorry-feeling about himself, but so many bad things had been happening to him. One after another, too.

Stop it. Making it worse. Cypur straightened his cape and combed back his hair with his fingers, feeling a dampness settling there. Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs with fresh air. The plan, find the old female and get to Zarkentauf. 

After that, it should be easy. They would slip into Poppintum, find out about Wescherlie's parents and sneak into the High Collection Sorcerer Police building. He knew his information would be easy to find. It was a gut feeling.

The only thing remaining was to prove he was not a murderer. It had to be genetics. That was the issue. The defect was not him it was his biological parents.

Because I did all I could. He forced himself to think good things and quickened his pace to catch up with Wescherlie and Precense.

It wasn't long before they neared the edges of Boridianverie, Cypur put his cape over his head, and Wescherlie turned into a raven to sit on his shoulder.

"You have a nice shoulder," she said and moved her little raven feet back and forth as if feeling her cushion. There was a bit of extra cape under where she stood because ravens had such sharp talons. Healing fast from a scratch didn't mean it was pleasant to walk while something constantly pricked you in the skin.

"I'd rate it ten out of ten, this shoulder."

"Don't talk so loud or at all." Cypur warned her. "Ravens don't talk."

"But no one's here," she complained in a loud voice.

"Wescherlie!" he hissed.

"Well, I can talk so quiet that," she said and continued in such a soft whisper he couldn't even hear her.

With a smirk, he turned his head and mouthed, "I can do you one better."

"That's my partner in crime!" she shouted, making him jump.

"Shush!" Precense glared at them.

With Wescherlie snickering in his ear, a bubble of excitement gave a bounce to his step. He recalled the dance, steppenchellia, that Arius did for Carnival's opening ceremony. He took a few steps in rhythm as they slipped into the forest.

Wescherlie tapped her foot. "Steppenchellia, I know it, but I'm such a clumsy dancer," she said.

"I'm good at it." He smirked and brushed through the undergrowth, kicking up his feet. "Yah-tah-tah," he whispered the conventional rhythm.

"Someone's having a Narsy moment," she said a little too loud and got a scolding 'hush!' from Precense.

"Uptight, serious, stiff as a board," she muttered.

Cypur turned his head. Her beak looked upturned in a smile. Her talons dug into his cape tighter and tighter. He knew what she was going to do. Or part of it.

"Wescherlie, don't," he warned, but she kicked off his shoulder. Cypur stumbled but didn't fall. He watched her glide the short distance to neatly land on Precense' unsuspecting head.

"Hi," she said, and Precense jumped, collided with a tree, getting tangled up in the branches. Swear words fell from his lips like a torrent. Cypur bit back laughter as Wescherlie cawed in victory.