Chapter Thirty-Four #3
“I don’t think so,” Perian said, looking at the Prince. “Is there anything else you need? I know this might seem like a bit of a detour…”
The Prince shook his head. “Not at all. As you say, there may prove to be something useful in the diary. And they’re clearly interested in one another. I wouldn’t want to block that.”
“Practically speaking,” Cormal said prosaically, “this is a good solution. We can’t expect Yannoma to remain celibate, and the doctor is clearly aware of any dangers. The last thing we need is a dangerous incident to jeopardize what we’re working towards.”
“Yannoma wouldn’t endanger us,” Trill said staunchly.
Cormal’s attention turned to him. “I don’t think she would deliberately.
But if she responded to genuine attraction and it was only afterwards that someone realized what she was and reacted badly?
I imagine you have to deal with the potential for that situation all the time, but it has never been more important that nothing go wrong. ”
They all nodded. Trill and Yannoma had had to flee occasionally, though it rarely happened.
By the time Trill had come to live with her, she had mostly had a plan, and Trill had been able to help a lot.
But occasionally, one of them had miscalculated.
Yannoma had liked to move frequently regardless, part habit and part desire to reduce the chance that anyone would comment on her.
Trill had understood, even as part of him had yearned for a more permanent home, one that he didn’t think Yannoma had ever craved.
They went their separate ways: Cormal and the Prince off to wherever they were going, Perian and Brannal back to their rooms, and Molun, Arvus, and Trill across the hall to their room.
They seized the moment without Yannoma to have what Molun was calling “private sex.” Molun was taking the idea of Trill being in the middle very seriously, and Trill was truly happy to be sandwiched between the two of them.
“Do you think this is my new job?” Molun asked once they were a relaxed, sweaty pile in the bed. “I’m back at work, but my only job right now seems to be to spend time with you two. I’d like to register my approval.”
Trill laughed, and Arvus leaned over to kiss Molun. “Baby, I think there might be a few other duties that Secundus is meant to perform, but I’m sure everyone will be delighted to see how… versatile you are.”
Molun grinned wide, wiggling against them. “That’s right! I’m so versatile. Can we tell everyone?”
“Of course we can,” Arvus said easily.
Trill was pretty sure they were mostly joking, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever met humans who liked to talk about sex and were as open about it as these two were—not unless they worked in a house of pleasure and it was their actual job.
Trill liked it very much. He could get used to all of this—although he suspected that Arvus and Molun would indeed have to do more of their actual job soon.
Right now, Trill was pretty sure protecting or guarding him (and Yannoma when she wasn’t off having lots of sex and hopefully looking at the journal eventually) was the sole priority.
It took almost a week for Yannoma to translate the journal, and while it was obvious that Cormal was incredibly impatient, he tried to rein it in.
The Prince was better at hiding whatever he was feeling.
When they finally reconvened in the Prince’s sitting room, a glance at the doctor and Yannoma showed that they were still attracted to one another, but it also seemed rather sated and sort of… casual?
That boded well for any sort of ongoing relationship, because Yannoma didn’t like to be tied to one place or one person. But a willing partner she could have sex with when she maybe visited Trill in the future? She would likely be interested in that.
Once they were all settled, Yannoma looked at Cormal.
“You asked if there were records of children of two worlds, and I told you there were not, to my knowledge. Well, it turns out that Elorinn’s ancestor was more conscientious.
” She sighed. “With the exception of when the veil between the worlds was torn so badly prior to the Great Betrayal, we have never been able to return to the world we came from.
Once we ended up here, the stay was permanent.
Most embraced this new world as their home, and left behind everything from our home world.
“I have not seen or heard Carnalic in centuries, but Elorinn’s ancestor passed the language on. And she—her name was Lokinna—used it to record her work as a Life Mage before the Great Betrayal. She left the journal at home when she journeyed to work the barrier.”
Cormal frowned. “Did she suspect foul play?”
Yannoma shook her head. “Not that was ever expressed in the journal. But there were many dangers at the time; just traveling to the barrier was an undertaking, and she wanted the records preserved for her family. So it was left with grandchildren, and that is how it and they survived.”
She sighed. “And then, of course, the Betrayal happened, and the world changed drastically once again. There are a few notes written at the end of the journal from her grandchildren, relaying what happened to her, but within two generations, all knowledge of Carnalic was lost. They had few opportunities to use it, and it could spell their deaths if they were caught. They spoke of it as the family secret, but they chose to share the truth about Life Mages with their children, on and on down the line.”
“Until me,” Elorinn said with a small smile.
“The amount of carnalion blood in me is negligible. I have no magic abilities. But I was still far more aware than most of what to look for.” She turned to Perian.
“Surrounded as you were by Mage Warriors, but happily so, I left it as it was, thinking that safest for you. I’m sorry that proved not to be the case.
I should have given you the means to make your own choices. ”
Perian shook his head. “It’s all right. I’ve already scolded Brannal for the same thing.
I do wish you’d told me, but… without blatant proof?
Without a catalyst?” He shrugged. “At this point, I think it safer to say that everything needed to happen the way that it did to bring us here, for the Queen to change the law and make it safer for everyone. I know it won’t instantly be better, but if we could reverse what happened to the doctor’s ancestor?
” He gestured towards the journal. “If in two or three generations, the fear is gone? If humans could go to Life Mages as a matter of course for severe injuries and illnesses? That’s a world that I would like very much to see. ”
“Well said,” the doctor agreed. “And we think the journal can help.”
Cormal sat up straighter, the Prince tried to hold his hand, and they all leaned forward. “Really?” Trill asked.
Yannoma and the doctor nodded. Yannoma held up a sheaf of papers.
“I transcribed the immediately relevant sections. Lokinna has laid out a number of her healing practices.” She was silent for a moment, but it was clear she had more to say, and they were all practically quivering with interest. “Including on the restoration of limbs.”
A collective inhale.
It was Perian who said, “The restoration of limbs? Like… growing them back?”
Yannoma nodded. “In the case of a fully severed limb, Lokinna was able—with the collaboration of her husband, an elemental Mage, and several of his colleagues—to create a new one.”
“Thank all the elements,” Cormal breathed.
The Prince looked completely stunned.
Trill was sure it wasn’t as simple as that—limbs weren’t whole bodies, after all. But any sort of guidance was better than none at all. It was making flesh and blood and bone out of Elemental Magic and Life Magic.
Perian held out his hand for the pages and met Trill’s gaze. “We’d better take a look.”