Chapter 49: 49. Family and Friends

Excerpt from Sivilyi’s ‘The Winged Sage’s Proverbs.’

“Family is the nest you build, not the egg you hatched from.”

---

Before Yenna could call Lumale, she needed to retrieve the portable imager. Before that, she had to rid herself of her escort.

“It’s not cursed, is it? Like, it’s good that it’s a gift?” Tirk had continued to follow the mage, clutching his horn again. Telling the boy that she wasn’t sure wouldn’t exactly soothe his fears, but Yenna wasn’t in the business of lying about such things. It was important to her as a teacher that she not make a habit of pretending to have all the answers.

“I’m sure it will be fine, or the priestess would have had rather more to say.” Yenna gave Tirk a small pat on the head. “A good mage is patient enough to wait for the complete set of results without wildly extrapolating. Then, we’ll both find out.”

“A good mage…” Tirk nodded his head. “Okay! I’ll wait to get the results and I won’t ex-apple-ate at all!”

Without further warning, Tirk ran off down the hallway, arms outstretched like a bird flying away. No sooner did the boy turn the corner and get out of sight did Yenna hear a quiet oof! Tirk tumbled onto his backside and laughed as a pair of hands picked him up off the ground.

“Wow, li’l guy! Careful where ye’re goin’!” Jiin’s distinctive accent boomed around the corner, and the woman wandered into view. Holding Tirk in the air while the boy giggled uncontrollably, Yenna could only fret about the idea of Jiin’s curled horn poking him as they played around.

As Yenna approached, Jiin turned around to face her. The stonecarver flipped Tirk upside down and held him by one leg—an act the boy found truly hilarious—and gave Yenna a big smile of her own.

“Mayi was a bit worried about’cha. Said I oughta go find ya. Then, what do I catch instead?”

“L-Lemme go!” Tirk wiggled, laughing maniacally as Jiin tickled him. After a bit of playful roughing up, Jiin carefully turned the boy up the right way and put him down.

“Go on, ya scamp. Hirihiri’s gonna be cross if ya get lost.” Jiin gave him one parting hair-ruffle before Tirk scurried away, nearly running into a second person—a bewildered maid with a basket full of laundry. “Fer a kid who can tell what’s on yer mind, ‘e sure bangs into a lotta stuff.”

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, Mayi was worried about me? What for?” Yenna played with her braid, the red hair smooth between her fingers.

Jiin shrugged. “Not sure, t’be honest. She said you were prob’ly gonna speak to yer master, an’ that you prob’ly weren’t too excited to do so. Then she said that I oughta go speak to ya, but she didn’t say why—I think she just wanted t’eat my eggs, y’know?”

Jiin gave a laugh and Yenna chuckled along with her, though she still felt a little awkward. The mage could probably guess why Mayi had sent her partner along—Jiin was a lot easier to speak to than the doctor, more open to chatter, better at distracting her from her worries. Either that, or Mayi had expected Demvya to be of some assistance—the spirit was still ragged and worn from the other day, so she wouldn’t–

“Gah! That was it!” Yenna slapped her forehead with her good hand, and Jiin jumped in surprise. “How am I getting this forgetful? I meant to speak to you ages ago about your usage of magic, before it causes problems for both of you.”

“Ain’t y’gotta call yer master first?” Jiin gave a smile and tilted her head. “I’m sure me an’ Demvya can wait a bit.”

“No no no. We need to do this now—the longer we wait, the more of a problem it becomes. Argh, would that I could be in two places at once…¹”

Jiin and Yenna found themselves a sitting room nearby in which to talk—a young man who had been cleaning the room offered to bring them both refreshments, and in short order poured them both a cup each of a strong herbal tea. He left the teapot, and Yenna resisted the urge to pore over the unique enchantment attached to the fine ceramic vessel that was keeping the tea warm and fresh.

After bracing herself with a quick sip of tea, Yenna cleared off the rest of the small table between the two of them.

“Alright, Jiin. I want you to make a cup with your hands, and put them on the table.”

“Yer the boss!” Jiin did as she was told, hunching over to reach the low table’s top. She suppressed a goofy grin, watching Yenna carefully as the mage cast a few small spells.

The first was a simple act of conjury—a stick of charcoal brought into hand, as well as a thin sheet of paper. The next spell animated the stick of charcoal, and Jiin grinned as it scribbled out a magic circle.

“Sheesh, if you c’n cast a spell to make magic circles for ya, why bother practicing circles so much?”

“Well,” Yenna raised an eyebrow, waggling a finger as she guided the charcoal, “That would be because the spell to make the circle requires me to make a different circle. It just lets me do something else while I’m preparing another spell—stirring the pot with one hand while I read the cookbook, as it were.”

The mage instantly felt herself transported—the phrase had been something an old instructor of hers used to say. She couldn’t recall which instructor, just the phrase, a useful little explanation Yenna herself had used countless times. As soon as it was done, Yenna moved the piece of paper into Jiin’s cupped hands and held her own hand over the top of it. A gentle glowing light surrounded several of Yenna’s rings as the mage held her prepared spell.

“Right now, Demvya is starving. The other day I gave her a tribute—an infusion of magic to restabilise her form. Both of you used up a lot of your magic, and you rather dangerously used your internal supply. There is a very good reason why mages prefer to use the magic around us—the magic inside you exists to keep you healthy and living.”

Yenna released her spell, and the paper distorted—melting to cover Jiin’s cupped hands. The paper dissolved away and left behind a black charcoal mark on the woman’s hands, as though Yenna had drawn directly onto the flesh. Jiin very carefully held it together, unsure of where this was going.

“I wasn’t sure how’ta keep Demvya’s spell goin’, so I kinda just let ‘er take whatever.” Jiin gave a shrug. “‘Sides, it worked out alright, didn’t it? The priest was fine, an’ I’m still alive. Feelin’ a bit sore this mornin’, though Mayi helped me with that. Heh.” Jiin gave a goofy grin—Yenna felt that she didn’t want to know.

“Demvya doesn’t understand magic like you do, or like I do. She is magic, and she knows that taking it from your body is not a good thing to do. However, having become attached to you, she has no efficient means of channeling magic in from outside your body. Which is why I’m going to show both of you how to do that. Before you both do something reckless, and one of you winds up dead.”

“D-Dead?” Jiin sputtered, eyes wide. “It’s really that bad?”

“I would have thought Mayi would have explained to you magic’s function in the body– hm, maybe mundane medicine doesn’t cover that?” Yenna filed that thought away for later, though her confidence in her memory had waned somewhat. “Your own internal magic helps protect your body from submitting to magical stagnancy, while also protecting your soul from being blown away in magical wind. In fact, I believe that’s why Demvya is clinging to you—a solid vessel with an active supply of magic protects her purely magical form from being eroded by magical weather.”

“I don’t, uh, really get it all, but…” Jiin scratched the side, then quickly put her hands back together. “I guess I’ll try not’ta use up all my magic? And, what’s this thing meant ta do, anyways?”

“It’s a collector. It concentrates magical energy in your hands from the air. I’m not going to be able to teach you how to channel magic immediately, but I also need you to be able to gather magic to replenish both yourself and Demvya. Speaking of which, I would have expected her to have something to say by now.” Yenna looked up at Jiin.

“She’s sleepin’. I guess Demvya’s real tired, ‘cause of the lack of magic? My hands’re tinglin’, are they meant ta do that?” Jiin leaned in, watching invisible motes of magic subtly flow towards the lines in the magic circle.

“Tingling, you say? You were emptier than I thought… Okay. We better start on some exercises.”

—

For the next hour, Yenna instructed Jiin on the technique of channeling. It wasn’t as simple as gathering in magic for a spell and releasing it—the technique was akin to trying to breathe in and out at the same time. It was fairly tricky to do, and even by the end of the hour Jiin hadn’t managed to successfully perform it.

“Ah, geez.” Jiin exhaled a loud sigh and drained her teacup—the bracing warmth and strength of the tea had kept the two women going, but even its soothing power couldn’t deny the inevitable need for a break. “Feels like my brain’s gonna split in two if I keep goin’... but, thanks, Yenna. Ye’re always helpin’ me.”

The mage couldn’t deny some quiet annoyance at how infrequently her new students called her Master, but she wasn’t about to push the point.

“You’re welcome. Though, I have to admit, I only started teaching everyone to help test out my own magical ideas—and I’ve been far too busy to actually do that, besides. A good mage awaits results, and I’m sure my hard work will pay off.” Yenna waved it off and sipped her tea. Amongst the kesh, her insistence that this arrangement was mutually beneficial would have ended the conversation—Jiin was not kesh.

“No, really! Yesterday y’helped me with that noble guy. What an asshole!” Jiin suddenly looked angry, flopping back in her chair. “Wanted t’deck him then an’ there, but I could barely stand up. Sayin’ all that crap…”

Yenna frowned, suddenly feeling awkward. I have to ask at this point, don’t I?

“Um, I did want to say—I’m not quite sure what was going on between you and Shen. He rather pointedly noted you to be a male, even though I expressed that you prefer to be addressed as feminine. I corrected him, though he did not change his ways. If I may ask, is this a yolm thing?” Yenna felt a bit silly saying it like that, but couldn’t think of a better way to put it.

Jiin looked at Yenna, mildly confused for a moment—then, she laughed, a loud, booming laugh. “Y-You didn’t even know what was happ’ning, an’ you still did that? Oh, Yenna, yer a treat! Ah, I s’pose it’s diff’rent for kesh, ain’t it? ‘Cause you’re all… ladies²?”

It was Jiin’s turn to look sheepish, and Yenna’s moment to giggle a bit.

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“I suppose you could use that term, even though it’s not quite correct. I’m aware that yolm have a rather more cut-and-dry binary with the terms you use to address each other, related to your anatomy of all things. I’m just not sure why one would use the wrong term on purpose.”

“Ah, he was bein’ a right turd, that’s what.” Jiin sighed, her joviality lost. “Yolm culture, ‘specially t’wards Milur, women are in charge, right? Like how the captain’s mum’s the Head—y’can only be an heir if yer a woman. S’not a very good system, but that’s what it is.”

Yenna nodded along, refilling both of their tea cups. “I’m not really sure what that has to do with it all, though. Is he jealous, perhaps? Trying to lower your social standing?”

“Hah! Maybe! Ain’t thought of it like that, I s’pose. Nah, it’s ‘cause he thinks I’m tryin’ t’be somethin’ I’m not. Y’know?” Jiin gestured to herself, though Yenna was still lost. “... You f’real, Yenna? If it weren’t you, I’d think you were messin’ with me.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve given offence–”

“Nah, nah. S’pose it makes sense you wouldn’t be able t’tell, not bein’ a yolm and all.” Jiin gave a deep sigh. “I wasn’t, uh, born as a woman, is the thing.”

“Oh? I suppose I had a phase as a teenager where I was rather rough, and it’s not uncommon for young kesh to preen themselves as fine—is it a bigger deal with the yolm?”

“Sheesh, could’ve been born a kesh an’ skipped all this, eh? A’right, lemme tell you a story. S’how I met Mayi. An’ I guess it’s a story of how I got on the expedition, too? A’right. Wasn’t expectin’ to tell all this, but… Eh, screw it.”

Jiin took a deep sip of her tea and started from the beginning. 

—

The stonecarver had been born in a town called Svaan, closer to the Miluran border. Her family were stonecarvers, and had been for several generations. At some point their ancestry could have been traced back to a noble house, but the years had splintered their lineage further away from anything traceable and left them only with an abiding love for the shaping of stone.

Jiin grew up as most yolm boys did in a family of craftsfolk—she became an apprentice to her father. Jiin’s mother had some complications giving birth, leaving Jiin as an only child. Her parents doted on her, though her father was a stern instructor and her mother an even harsher critic of Jiin’s carving. Still, they were inseperably close, united around a love for their craft and each other.

In the town of Svaan, there were far more expectations on young girls than on young boys. A girl could grow into a woman and become head of her house—she needed to be smart, emotionally balanced, and skilled in her craft. A man was expected to either join a workshop or become a labourer. Despite being a somewhat archaic way of doing things, it was still done in those smaller towns—often under the justification of, ‘This is how it’s always been.’

Jiin didn’t enjoy playing along with the boys—didn’t like wearing the clothes boys wore, or having little say like boys did. The girls got to learn interesting things—history, maths, fighting, even advanced techniques that ‘men couldn’t hope to have the patience for’. The boys in her town blindly agreed with how things were—why learn all those things if they were just going to work in the mines, or work in a workshop under the instruction of a skilled craftsman? Jiin didn’t want to be one of the boys—she didn’t feel the same as them. So, she snuck into the lessons meant for girls, and learned everything she could.

The first time she got caught, the instructor smacked her over the head with a measuring stick and sent her running. The second time, she nearly had the dress she was wearing torn off—though everyone insisted she had been wearing it as a ‘disguise’, it really was something she felt more comfortable in. The third time, the instructor dragged her to her home and confronted her parents. The entire family moved to another town a week later. The town of Muhel.

At no point did her parents admonish her, though they didn’t quite understand.

“I’m not sure why you insist on wearing these dresses out and about,” her father had said to her. “Everyone will think you are trying to be a woman.”

Jiin hadn’t told him at the time that that was the point, not quite sure of how to explain it all. She didn’t know anyone like herself, didn’t have close friends to confide in. Still, even moving town hadn’t stopped her from sneaking into lessons—it just made her better at it. Whenever she would get caught, Jiin would say she had become lost and ended up in the wrong place—she could endure a bit of laughter at her own expense. All she had to do was go and find another classroom window to stare in through, another outdoor lesson she could eavesdrop on.

In her teen years, it was an open secret that Jiin was not like the other young men. She wore women’s clothing, even openly attended a handful of classes where an instructor had been willing to let her stay. Unfortunately, her character had changed for the worse—in response to bullying, teasing, even attacks on the street, she was quick to fight and bite back. In a fit of teenage vitriol, she had confessed all to her parents—and was astonished to learn that they knew. They were proud, proud of how their daughter had fought for so long to assert herself. They also dealt with the metaphorical slings and arrows of what Jiin was, and took the blows with pride. They hadn’t lost a son, as some cruel gossips had stated, they had connected with their daughter.

On the day Jiin reached the age at which she was old enough to be proclaimed her parents’ heir, her mother announced publicly that Jiin would one day be head of their family. It wasn’t unheard of for a man to become head of such a meaningless house—it happened all the time. However, the backlash that followed escalated beyond control. This wasn’t a man inheriting a house, this was a man trying to become something he’s not, to rise above his station. To many, it was a spit in the face of tradition. If a man could just become a woman, then the whole system of inheritance, of heirs and heads, all of that would cease to function. It was an existential threat—something wrong in Jiin’s head, or something malicious.

The next day, the family was dragged before a court–

—

“Sorry, ‘scuse me.” Jiin sniffed, wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. “It’s, uh, not a happy memory.”

“We can stop if you’d like–”

“No! Uh, no. No, s’fine. If I stop now, s’no point me tellin’ you all the bits before. So, we got dragged to the court—a big bloody mob o’ folks forcin’ us…”

—

The court had made a ruling—Jiin was ‘disrupting the peace’ by merely being herself. The judge gave two options, and she gave them to Jiin’s mother. The first was to renounce Jiin as the heir to their house, and to force Jiin to act as a man should. The other was for Jiin to be exiled, with the unsaid implication that she would not make it out of the city alive.

To the judge, the first option was an absolute mercy. There were those in the courthouse who called for blood—feared that if Jiin wasn’t made an example of, their own sons might be corrupted somehow. Yet, Jiin’s mother would accept neither term. Both were too cruel—to deny her daughter’s very existence, or sentence her to death. The crowd grew restless, and everyone knew it. If Jiin were to stay without accepting a sentence, it wouldn’t just be her who came to harm—it would be her family, too.

So, she made the first and final executive decision as heir of a nameless house. She chose exile—told everyone that she had defied her parents in this, that they were blameless in making her the way she was. Jiin barely made it out of the door before the true punishment of banishment began, and the last vision she had of her parents were them both weeping.

People threw stones at her in the street, a mob following her and picking up steam. Jiin couldn’t go home and grab her things—could barely navigate the streets without being cornered. They shouted horrible things, threw whatever they could find. Unfortunately for them, Jiin had been made to become very good at hiding—at knowing her way around the town like no one else. She climbed walls, hopped across rooftops, slipped through alleyways and under clotheslines. Then, she was out of the safety of buildings and onto the open road. Jiin ran, and didn’t stop until she collapsed.

When she woke up, the face of an angel was watching over her.

—

“Yeah, some nice fella dragged me into a doctor’s clinic, the very one that Mayi was apprenticin’. The doctor was out, the apprentice was in—I’d never met a more beautiful lady in all my life.”

—

Mayi looked after her for a week straight, spending most of her time at the clinic. When Jiin told Mayi about what happened, it infuriated the young doctor. It made her so furious in fact, that when a small group of men from her old home of Muhel arrived looking for Jiin, Mayi nearly started a fist-fight there on the spot.

—

“Thought I was gonna get my arse kicked—I’d stepped out t’stop ‘em, but it weren’t needed. ‘Cause the sun had come out from behind the clouds, and it was shinin’ on me that day. Y’wanna guess who came strollin’ down the street, right at that moment?”

Yenna could guess—the thread that tied this all together. “You mean… Captain Eone was there?”

“Right there, c’n ya believe it? Heck, she didn’t even say nothin’—just looked at those punks, an’ gave ‘em the stink-eye, an’ they ran off.”

Jiin took a moment to re-enact Eone’s apparently famous stride, complete with the overly dramatic reactions of Jiin’s would-be aggressors. Yenna couldn’t help but laugh along—this was the part of the story Jiin actually liked telling, and it felt such a shame that it was hidden right at the end of such misery.

“The captain came lookin’ fer a doctor that was just about t’finish her apprenticeship. She got a stonecarver in the deal. Then, tally-ho, off on adventures! How’s that fer a story?” Jiin gave a big grin. “Oh, an’ don’t worry. Mysilia gave me an’ Mayi the stink-eye fer ages too.”

Yenna didn’t really know what to say, laughing along with Jiin’s joviality. A thought occurred to her—was this why Jiin had such a depth of Joy in her? Back when she had Jiin try out the Joy-infused wind, it had blasted her chalkboard clear into the air with its power. Despite her happy-go-lucky demeanour, her easy-going and friendly nature, Jiin had such a strength in her—she had hit rock bottom, decided it wasn’t for her, and walked out of it one foot after the other.

Yenna decided that if she ever saw Shen again, she might slap him, too.

---

¹ - Arcane magic has an established method for technically being in two places at once, though it is largely more trouble than it’s worth. With a massive expenditure of magic and mental processing power, a magical researcher in Sumadre was able to superposition herself for several seconds. Though she lived the rest of her days with the uncanny feeling she was never quite in the same place, she reported that scaring the daylights out of one of her fellow researchers was more than worth it. It is worth mentioning that there are countless other ways to achieve a more functional effect, though they are all still quite complicated spells.

² - It is worth noting that this entire conversation, in its original format in Yenna’s journal, is an absolute nightmare of words that cannot be translated to you without significant explanation. I hope you will forgive me a measure of artistic liberty in reframing the phrasing in an attempt to maintain the message. It is worth knowing that, while Yenna and Jiin are both speaking the same language, both of them are using words largely unique to their own cultural perspectives—explaining a lot of their own confusion.

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