Chapter 37

I rushed upstairs, suddenly afraid Paul had been alone for too long, that he had had a setback. But as I stormed into the bedroom I found him reading peacefully, happy to see me of course, but not anxious or in pain. I sat down on the bed and we embraced tightly, wrapped up in each other's presence, and we kissed, then looked at the other, then kissed again.

He made room for me to lie down, and when I was nicely settled in his arms, I felt that tentative touch brush my mind, and I reached out for it. The intimacy of that contact was so deeply satisfying to both of us, that we didn't do anything but share feelings for what seemed a long time.

We didn't get overpowered by lust this time, I certainly had more need for quiet intimacy, and I felt Paul was still in some pain, making physical exertion not a very appealing prospect. When the pain started to become worse, so that I could even feel it, I got up and brought him a painkiller, which he obediently took.

I watched him, my love for him overflowing seeing him sitting there, almost back to his normal self, his curly head tilted questioningly at my silence, his stubble thicker than usual, his loving eyes mirroring my infatuated look. Of course he could feel what I was feeling, just as I knew exactly how deeply he loved me, but still he said: 'What?'

On impulse I said: 'I have met your younger brother just now. I don't know what he really looks like, for he was covered in soot and filth, and his hair was long and matted, but he single handedly saved not just himself, but nine other kids as well.

He didn't remember his name or anything else since he was dumped in that wasteland to die, but he knew how to keep a group together and he fed them and clothed them and never thought of escaping his fate.

When Lukas unblocked his memories, his talent also unfolded again, and when Frances promised to take care of all of them, he cried with relief. Paul, I don't think he can be many years over sixteen, and he pulled them through two winters, on nothing but garbage.'

Clearly, this made Paul feel very guilty: 'And he suffered right under my nose, for as long I have been guardian of this quarter.'

I retorted: 'Which is a few months, whilst it happened under your predecessor's nose for more than one and a half years. Paul, you uncovered this foul business, you led the raid that exposed this black mage, you beat him in a duel. You nearly died to save those children, we couldn't go into that wasteland until the mage was beaten.

He reminded me of you because he sacrificed so much and it still wasn't enough.' This silenced him on the subject of guilt, and he asked: 'You like him very much, don't you?' I replied with feeling: 'I couldn't help it, this boy is special, to have suffered such hardship and still be totally human. He cannot be allowed to go back to his parents and lead a normal, boring life.

So much talent and such drive have to be given direction, such natural leadership cannot be buried alive in a secretary's job or a stewardship. If he is not challenged he will get bored, and with his horrible memories and his talents he may become the next black mage.'

That message came home, and Paul offered: 'When I'm able to move around again, do you want me to test him and see if he is guardian potential? Then we could help him get his education, even if that school that the council member wants to found is not viable.'

That was enough for me, for I knew that those two would recognize one another for what they were immediately, so now I just needed to make sure they'd meet soon.

After this I described the whole scene to him, Frances' role as mother-figure, Lukas' incredible effort, and his subsequent wish to see George about it. The total of twenty strange children on the estate now, of which the two catatonic ones certainly wouldn't be able to reveal their parents.

'I want to help as much as possible, and Lukas feels the same. 'Is he coming home tonight?' Paul asked. I replied: 'He is planning to, but I'm afraid he may try to heal another child first. If George is willing to help him.' 'I trust George with anyone, he'll not ride him as hard as I did you, driving you into reaction sickness time and time again, Lukas will be fine,' Paul said, 'do you want some dinner? You must be starving, I know I am. I think I can make it downstairs and maybe even cook.'

That's when you know you really are a bad cook, when people with a fresh and very painful shot wound prefer to navigate a stairs over eating your cooking.

But of course I knew that already, and I had never put any energy in improving my skills, so I guessed I deserved it. Fortunately I was allowed to help, by dicing stuff, and pouring tea, but I did not get to touch a pan or even the boiler, though I was sure standing up hurt Paul more than he hurt my feelings insulting my cooking.

We got an edible dinner within half an hour, and we both enjoyed that very much. It was even quite romantic, him and me gazing at each other infatuatedly over a plate of good food.

But after dinner he graciously allowed me to do the dishes all by myself whilst he laid on the sofa, waiting for his painkiller to take effect so he would make it up the stairs.

Soon I was sitting on the sofa with his head in my lap, stroking his hair, and he asked: 'Do you want to know what I discovered about those statues?' I had completely forgotten about those silver statues, and I said as much, at which he told me: 'I can imagine, saving a bunch of neglected children from a derelict house in the midst of hell is much more exciting. Though I did find something interesting, I just need to verify it with a book.

Could you fetch it from the bookcase, it's placed among the magic books, a large red leather-bound tome with the striking title of 'The merry faerie' in gold lettering.'

Carefully I got up from the sofa, replacing my lap with a pillow, but he got up and sat on the sofa instead. I searched for the book among the scores of magic books, and finally discovered a large tattered red book with the title in gold letters, removed it from the shelf and took it with me to the sofa.

Once there I sat next to my lover, and laid the book on his knees, it was big enough that when Paul opened it it covered both our laps. He started to turn pages, obviously familiar with the contents of the ancient book, and I caught snatches of beautifully calligraphed images and a nearly illegible script.

Paul didn't seem to have any trouble reading it, and he quickly found the page he was looking for. He scanned it, then read part of it very carefully and slowly, then said: 'It is as I thought, these are elven marriage statues, some families have them made for their children to celebrate their joining. They're usually just beautiful and associated with good luck, but sometimes their maker puts so much of himself in them, that they develop a soul of their own.

Apparently the souls are part of the statues, they don't have bodies pining away somewhere. Interesting as they are, studying them any further can wait until the current situation has been resolved. We'll just leave them here to get acquainted with the house.'

Now when had I heard him say that before, and why did it raise the hairs in my neck?

But those children needed our help, and I hoped we would have something to offer them the coming days. I took a good look at Paul and it seemed the painkiller had taken effect, for he sat straighter and more relaxed.

I asked: 'Is the pain gone?' He nodded and replied: 'It is, and even when it comes back it hurts ever so much less than it did this morning. That is a very valuable talent Lukas has. Do you suppose his father knew somehow, going to such lengths to set it free?' I mused: 'It would make him very useful to his father's court, if one didn't care about the price Lukas had to pay to get the talent.'

Paul added: 'Maybe dear papa also hoped it would make him more tractable, having suffered a little at the hands of scary demons, having been humbled .'

Suddenly I remembered something I had wondered about earlier that day: 'Does your boiler need attention to keep the contents hot? I realised today that I have never seen you stoke it yet.'

Paul answered: 'It does, you're right, I almost forgot. I use a magical trick to stoke it about ten times as efficiently as a normal boiler, but it does need some fuel, about once a day. I'll show you straight away.'

We put the red book aside and I followed him into the cellar, down the rather steep stairs that ended in the small, rather cold room with one wall covered in shelves, where Paul kept his supplies. On the other wall was a cabinet, I guess the deepest darkest place in his house, where he told us he kept the mirror that was the portal to the world full of demons, wrapped in black velvet. And a large boiler, made out of copper but unadorned, still a thing of great beauty, with the expected pile of coal beside it.

I asked: 'I have wondered before why it is cool in here, when that thing should be heating the room up to an unbearable temperature?' This made Paul laugh, and he said: 'Can't fool an engineer, can I? I have a spell on that boiler, keeping all the heat inside.

If it overheats, it vents into the workshop on the other end of the wall in winter, and outside the house in the summer. The boiler in the kitchen is connected to this one, as well as the one in your apartment.

They merely keep the water hot and send it around the house, they don't actually heat it. This one does all the heating.' He opened a chute and handed me a hand shovel, asking: 'Can you fill that from the pile three times and ease it in?' I filled the shovel up with coal and let the contents slide into the chute. He nodded in approval, that was slowly enough.

Then I repeated that movement twice, hung the shovel back where it came from, and closed the chute.

Satisfied, Paul said: 'That is it, it's ready for another day. In winter I need to stoke it twice a day, with double the amount of coal, and I remove the spell from the piping and the other boilers, and they heat the house.' I was stunned, thinking of the quantity of coal my parents used to burn to keep our house heated in winter.

Our tiny house, where we lived with five people in one room and had two unheated bedrooms. 'It's one of my great frustrations, not being able to improve society with magic. Every family in the city could live this comfortably, with running water as well, I use magic to pump that from the ground and engineering to pump it around the house.

But if anyone knew, I'd be imprisoned, murdered, who knows what the people would do to me for using magic. So the boilers I sell are just that, boilers, though I try to make them as fuel-efficient as possible.' He seemed positively sad about having to keep the advantages of using magic a secret, and he looked so wistful I couldn't help wrapping my arms around him and kissing him.

He returned my kiss with fervour, a good sign, his body responded to stimuli again, he really was much better.

After the kiss he said, in a very serious voice: 'Melissa, I've had a lot of time to think about things. Getting shot reminded me of the dangers we face. If something should happen to me I want you to know that I keep the portal in the cabinet over there.'

This, pointing at the cabinet I already suspected was the hiding place of that powerful thing. But he was not done yet: 'Until you are at your full powers, George should have that, he is strong enough to guard it. I also want you to have this house, instead of running the risk of being turned out by my parents.'

I didn't even want to think of him leaving me behind, I still heard the shot and saw him fall in my mind. His comments distressed me, and he noticed: 'Melissa, I can see this upsets you, but please bear with me, I have a reason to want to discuss this with you. You love me for who I am as a person, and you love my work, and I want you to have my legacy if anything should happen to me. Which I hope will not, for I want to live with you for years and years to come, I love you more than anything in this world and I want to build a life with you, make us both happy.

So though maybe this isn't the time and most certainly not the place, I still want to ask you something:'

He was very intense now, the air in that little room was laden with feelings. I found that having him look at me like that still caused my heart to skip a beat, and I had some trouble remembering to breathe.

As I watched him, rooted to the ground by his intensity, he slowly sank to his knees and looked up at me, eyes burning, and I heard his voice, thick with feeling: 'Melissa, will you let me be yours forever, will you marry me?'

I know I said I didn't cry easily, but I can tell you, his intensity combined with the humble posture, and the still fresh image of him dropping, not knowing whether he was dead or alive, or hurt beyond hope, well I'm not ashamed to tell you that made me cry now.

I helped him up, for I didn't like to see him humble himself for me, and though I knew it was his way to show me that he wanted us to be equals, I could also see that in his condition it was painful. Of course he needed an answer too, and instead of just saying 'I will', which I did, wholeheartedly, I contacted his mind and let him feel the depth of my love for him, but also a big question: what about Lukas?

For though I would marry Paul, how could I not marry the man I loved so much it hurt and who loved me at least as much, it would nonetheless break my heart to shut Lukas out of it.

Wrapped up in Paul's arms now, and bearing a significant part of his weight as a sign he needed to be back in bed as soon as possible, I felt his happiness and reassurance flood my mind and my intended whispered in my ear: 'Dearest, how could I ever do that to someone I professed to love? But even if I didn't love you way too dearly to break your heart, I have come to love Lukas too. I don't want to marry you to claim you for my own, I want to marry you to provide for both of you in case something happens to me.'

I wanted to hold him forever, but I could clearly feel that he was at the end of his strength, and I didn't want him to have a setback. So I kissed him once more, then helped him up the stairs to the sofa, where I cleaned the wound, and from there to bed.