Sorry for the wait… I've been working on my website and doing loads of math and socials homework… *gag* More angsty stuff this chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Tammy's stuff, and I don't claim to. You get the drift.
WARNING: LOTS of CURSING this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you!
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Thom of Trebond
Chapter 3: Chiromancy Clears
Thom walked to his next class; books tucked carefully under his arm in case someone tried to knock them out of his hands. He'd been lying low for the past few months – no more showing off his magical prowess, or taunting his classmates. That was fine – he could deal with a little humility.
The class he was going to was a fairly new one – they had just started Foretelling the month before. Foretelling was an imprecise art most predictions were pretty vague. It was basically because so many little things could change the future, very little is set in stone, and if you do see a precise future, it still might not happen. Thom wasn't really interested in this subject, who wanted to know what they were going to eat for breakfast tomorrow? But really, knowing what was going to happen, like some kind of fate, freaked him out.
"Chiromancy." Said Mistress Polomere. "More commonly known as palmistry. Different wrinkles in your palm – called lines – and lumps – called mounds – represent not only your future, but also your personality. You right hand is the conscious, your left the unconscious."
Frankly, Thom didn't really care. Why would he need someone to tell him about his personality – conscious or unconscious?
"There are three main lines on you hand," she was drawing a diagram, now. "The top one is the heart line, and a deep and long line denotes a caring personality." Thom looked at his heart line – it was short and light. Figured.
"The one just below that is the head line – a deep head line means you are an intellectual or artistic person. The last line is your life line, and a strong, deep line means you will have a long and healthy life." She went on to describe the minor lines- Thom wasn't really listening, and he was rather jolted out of his daydreams when Mistress Polomere said she'd be reading their palms.
Thom was second-to-last in the lineup – Perryn was last. Perryn had almost refused to get his palms read, but the Mistress said either he was going to get his palm read or he was going to fail Foretelling.
"Thom," she said, and Thom walked up to her chair at the front and extended his hand. Polomere grabbed it and ran her fingers along his palm – it was spooky.
"Your heart line is weak, and your life line is strong but short," she said pensively.
Oh, great.
Thom thought. So I'm heartless and short-lived."However, your head line is one of the strongest I've ever seen- very long, too. Left."
Thom put out his left hand, and she looked at it a while before speaking. "You're a proud person, and solitary. You don't give help and you don't ask for it."
Thom suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn't want Polomere to know any more than she had to.
"I see no spouse – though that may change in time. Many difficulties, difficulties which will affect not only yourself but other people – perhaps even all of Tortall." Thom shuddered, then checked himself. She was just some old bat spouting nonsense – what did she know?
"You may be great on day," she finished, and dropped his hands. Thom walked back to his table and picked up his books, walking out the door. All the other students had gone for free time, and there was only Perryn left.
Thom was about to go back to his room when he suddenly decided to stay. It wouldn't hurt to hear what Polomere said about Perryn's future. He silently placed his books on the floor at his feet and peered around the corner into the room. The Mistress was holding Perryn's hands, running her fingers over his palms – he looked nervous.
"You are very impulsive," she said. "You tend to leap before you look – and often, that is a grave error." Thom wriggled uncomfortably, thinking about The Prank.
"Your friends are few and far between, though those that you have you would do anything for. Your head line is deep- very deep indeed." She frowned, then something clicked, and she pushed up his sleeves. "And your life line is very, very short."
Perryn just snorted. "Bogus. What am I going to die from- your lectures?
"Fool!" she hissed. "Do you think what you're doing is accomplishing anything? You have potential, Perryn, don't waste it like this."
Perryn turned pale and yanked his hands away. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I damn well know what I'm talking about, boy. You're doing nothing but hurting yourself and others. By Shakith, if I hadn't sworn an oath never to tell the secrets of others –" she shook her head. "Tell someone, Perryn. Tell someone before it kills you."
"I can do what I want with my life, bitch." He spat, and turned on his heel, heading for the door.
Thom realized what he was doing and grabbed his bags, running down the hall as quick and as quietly as he could go.
~*~
Perryn seemed withdrawn for the next few days, as if fighting some internal battle. Thom had no idea what it might be – but he just wished Perryn would trust him, whatever it was.
One evening after Thom and Perryn were studying, Thom noticed that his friend had left a book – A Collection of Spells for Intermediates. Wondering why Perryn had been so absent-minded lately, Thom went over to the other boy's door to return the book. He knocked, and when no answer came, pushed open the door a crack. The room was empty.
Frowning, Thom opened the door all the way and shut it behind him, looking around the spotless room. The door to the privy was ajar, and there was a light inside, so Thom assumed Perryn was in there. He strode to the door and knocked – no answer.
"Perryn?" he asked. Silence. Slowly – you never knew what people did in the privy – Thom opened the door – then just stood there, in shock.
Perryn was lying in a pool of his own blood, which was flowing freely from his slit wrists. Thom had enough sense to do a swift clotting spell and make some bandages from his mage-robes. Dazedly, he remembered that Perryn always wore long sleeves – even on the hottest summer days.
Perryn's eyelids quavered, and opened. "Fool," he said, and Thom's spell and bandages were ripped off Perryn's wrists, causing them to bleed again.
"You're the fool!" Thom hissed. "Why do you do this? Even when Mistress Polomere found out!" The words were past his lips before he could stop them.
Perryn's expression turned angry. "You were listening in? Bastard!"
"Well excuse me for curiosity!" Thom snapped.
"It was none of your business!"
"It's none of my business when you try to kill yourself?"
Perryn laughed bitterly. "It wasn't that bad at first – just a little cut. But I couldn't stop. Deeper and deeper."
It was then Thom noticed the scars- some that must have been dating back to more than a year ago.
Perryn's pulse was getting slower, his breathing shallower, but he still wouldn't let Thom bandage his wrists.
"Why? Why do you do it?" Thom said, desperate.
He laughed again. "You don't, can't understand. How can you live with it, day after day, everything they do?"
Thom sputtered. "What do you mean? They're just idiots!" but Thom knew that Perryn had a very low self-esteem – after years and years, he would start to believe all the things that they said. The things about him, his family, anything.
"Fuck you!" Thom croaked. He was starting to cry. "You know it isn't true!"
Perryn shook his head. "That's not all of it. You know I never wanted to be a mage."
Thom stared at him, wide-eyed. "You what? How could you say that?" Thom lived for magic.
"I wanted to be a knight. Serve the king. Magic is dirty, underhanded, and sneaky."
Thom's face was turning red with rage. "How can you say that? You're the best mage in the class!"
"It's bull." Perryn spat. "Bull. The only magic I was ever good at was magic to cheat with."
Thom just stared, jaw dropping open. "What- how-"
"I used to just cheat from other people's work. But then you came – If I copied from others' work and then switched my homework with yours, my marks would jump by at least thirty percent."
Thom turned a shade of deep purple. "YOU MOTHER-FUCKING BASTARD! YOU SAID YOU WERE MY FRIEND!"
Perryn shrugged. "So I did."
"YOU USED ME!" Thom jumped up, balls of purple fire growing in his hands. Right now he just wanted to lash out – get him back for everything – then he realized what he wanted to do. Thom collapsed in a heap, crying. He couldn't do it, just couldn't.
"I hate you!" he cried, pounding his fists on Perryn's chest. "I hate you! Go to hell, you shithead!"
They found Thom in the same place an hour later, pounding his fists on Perryn's dead body.
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Ooh, creepy! Sorry it's a bit short, I'll make up for it next chapter. Review, pleez, I live on your reviews!