"Oh. That's - convenient, I guess. If it's a bad year for it." He wishes women from his clan knew how to do that. It sounds like complicated hard magic, though. 

"Or if you just don't want children, some people don't." Hug. "There are also herbs people who aren't spellcasters take but they're not perfectly reliable. I don't think anyone's invented a perfect solution that's not magic and is always safe and always works, not yet, but someday they will."

He leans into the hug. 

"How are you going to live forever?" he says into her chest. "I think I probably have to live a long time if I want to get powerful enough and have a good enough plan to fight any gods. And also dying is bad and people shouldn't." 

"I don't have it figured out yet but some powerful wizards have done it so I know it's possible. Magic can be used to extend your life, so you have more time to work on it. The man I know who is a King had lots of different methods, so he'd have a backup if one of them failed. It is possible to make a not-awake clone of yourself with magic, and arrange for your soul to wake up there if you die. I'm not powerful enough to do it yet but it can be done. You'd also want to make sure your method of immortality was very hard for anyone or any god to tamper with."

"Mmm." He tugs away from her hug, his expression distant, deep in thought. "- Will you be sad?" he says after a moment. "If you have to turn into a boy so you're not pregnant anymore." 

"I would be sad about the situation being one where I had to do that instead of one where I was at home with my husband and we could be excited for the baby together. I will be sad if I do that, never get home and therefore never get to raise any kids except you. I think it'd be better if the world had the baby in it so I'd be sad to be losing those worlds. But none of it is worth dying about, so if they haven't invented healing anywhere I'm not going to risk it."

He nods. "If you're right that Urtho knows all about magic, though, then he would know if it's invented anywhere. If you can find him and talk to him. Is this his city?" 

"I don't think so. I will ask after him at the next place I go. Probably that should be the inn."

Ma'ar nods, and after a moment's hesitation, reaches to take her hand again. 

And they can go to the inn. "How much for a room?"

"One silver a night. Are you visiting the city?" 

"Yes. I'm not sure for how long. My coin purse was pickpocketed, and I'm a day ahead of my staff, but you can have one of the rings as collateral if you have a satisfactory safe to keep it in." She waves her hand carelessly. It has the magical ring as well as her nonmagical wedding jewelry.

That gets her an awed stare; however rich the rich people are in this city, the inn isn't used to seeing that much jewelry on one person. "All - all right, ma'am." The servant curtsies to her, suddenly blushing. "I'll - go ask - just wait there one moment..." She runs off. 

An older, more composed woman in a matching servants' uniform comes out a minute later, gives Carissa and Ma'ar an appraising look. She looks better fed than anyone in the previous towns they passed through, and not as stressed. 

"Welcome to the Pig's Ear," she says, smiling but not curtsying. "And to Anrod, our capital - have you ever been before? Anyway, I daresay we can accept one of your rings as collateral. I'm sorry to hear you were pickpocketed, the thieves have been awful this year - were you hurt at all?" 

"I haven't been here before, I'm from Cheliax, it's a long story. I wasn't injured." She offers the nonmagical ring. "My wedding ring, so do take care not to lose it."

"Oh, yes, yes, of course, ma'am."

The matron has never heard of Cheliax, but isn't that surprised, she's never been out of the city and the rich lady's clothes look exotic, she doesn't even recognize the fabrics. She's curious how Carissa ended up a day ahead of her staff, but not actively suspicious, and is holding back from asking out of politeness. The jewelry is spectacular, she's never seen any like it, either in style or quantity. And she understands better now why Malia was so spooked, she thought the poor girl was just being simple again, but this lady is kind of scary. Very composed, doesn't carry herself like most noblewomen here. She - looks like someone who's used to traveling alone, somehow, which is rare. Her son is sweet but looks thin, maybe he's sickly. 

"I'll just take care of locking this up safely for you, then. Malia! Do show the lady to her room." 

The nervous young girl is back a moment later, bobbing her head. "Follow me, ma'am." 

"Thank you. And I hate to ask, but could I have twelve silver for incidental expenses today and tomorrow? I really assure you the ring'll cover it."

The matron blinks, but still seems caught up enough by Carissa's visible absurd wealth that she doesn't think to question it. "Er, yes, of course. I'll be over as soon as we can arrange that." She's thinking frantically that they should clean the formal dining room for the lady's supper, it hasn't been used since the midwinter festival, and she should send the kitchen-maid to pick some fresh flowers for decorations, and - what other conveniences are very wealthy ladies used to, she'll have to ask around...

Carissa and Ma'ar are shown to a room, or rather suite; it has a sitting-room with a loveseat and armchair and a carved end-table, a bedroom with a four-poster bed, and a separate washing-up room with a slightly warped polished mirror on the wall. There are fine muslin curtains on the window, which is still oiled paper rather than glass, but lets through the light well enough. There's a rug on the floor and wallpaper, and the furniture is old but reasonably well-made. 

Ma'ar is trying not to gawk, because he's supposed to be pretending to be rich and of course if he were really he'd have seen nice rooms before, but he's amazed. 

"Thank you, dear," she says with satisfaction. "I'll have a bath - oh, I can do it myself, I'm a mage."

The maid seems to want to fuss, but is shooed away without too much effort, at which point Ma'ar stops trying to hide his awe. Though he's looking dubiously at the tub, he can't tell what it's for. 

"What's a bath?" he asks her. 

"You fill it with hot water and then you soak in the hot water to get clean!" She is being very careful with the water cantrip, because she suspects if she loses the little scrap of divine energy that powers it she'll never get it back; she fills up the tub, and then uses Prestidigitation to heat it. "Rich people have baths as often as they want, every day even, and so they are always very clean."

This seems like a ridiculous waste of water to him, but maybe rich people can - make rivers? Or something. He's still giving the water a very suspicious look. "Does it hurt?" 

"No, it's not that hot, just cozy resting temperature. You can stick your hand in and tell me if I got the temperature right."

He very tentatively dips his pinky in, then the rest of his hand. Looks surprised. "It's nice." 

"If you want to get in I can go into the other room. - people usually don't bathe in front of each other."