Ma'ar watches her, captivated by the entire process. Watching her casting spells was already amazing enough; the way that she makes them, folding together so much complicated structure, and then just - tucks them away for later - is incredibly beautiful. And not how his own magic looks to him at all. He tries a little bit, drawing out a wisp of magic from his reserves and imitating her as she works, but he can't go nearly fast enough and he doesn't have the fine control to make it match and the entire thing just seems to come out very differently. 

He asks her about it, after, how she learned to do it like that. 

"Where I am from they check all the children to see how smart they are and the smart ones get trained to be wizards. I'm not Gifted like you, so the only way I can cast spells is this way, the slow way. Since you're Gifted you are mostly going to want to practice with your Gifts, not practice the thing I do, which requires expensive resources to get good at, but once we're in Urtho's city and I have a sense of how scarce ink is going to be I'll make you up your own spellbook if you want."

Nod. "We should go clean now, so we can leave for the city." 

"Yes." It shouldn't take long, since she can summon an Unseen Servant to help and also use Prestidigitation.

They don't get to find out if Ma Okar would be impressed because she doesn't pay attention to any of it; she sits in the back room, working on her book of accounts, and occasionally pokes her head out to make sure they haven't run off with all her crockery or something. She seems to be one of the only people in town who can read or write, judging by the fact that two different people arrive with letters or bills-of-receipt for her to read for them, and she takes down a reply for the letter recipient. 

Ma'ar is moving more energetically this morning after two solid meals yesterday, though he didn't even think to ask whether there was breakfast, he's a bit hungry but he can save his travel-bread for once he's really hungry. 

She will ask about breakfast once the place is shockingly clean; it wasn't included but maybe they'll win some points for the shocking cleanliness.

Ma Okar does seem very pleased about her sparkling-clean tavern, even the ceiling above the fireplace de-sooted, and she gives them some day-old bread with soft cheese, apologizing that the baker doesn't have any fresh today, and cups of the same cider. 

Ma'ar gives his a suspicious look and then drinks it more carefully, and does not get tipsy. He keeps patting the hilt of his new magic dagger and feeling very reassured by it. 

And then they can walk on out of town along the river in the direction she was advised yesterday, and she can make them horses, and they can head out on their horses.

Ma'ar sticks very close to her, this time; the path is still pounded-down dirt but it's consistently wide enough for them to ride abreast. The land is similar, fields and scrub and the occasional orchard or cottage with a little garden. The river broadens and slows again, and there are women fishing in the shallows with nets, gowns rucked up around their waists, talking and laughing. 

Ma'ar watches everything, and is too focused on keeping his Thoughtsensing open enough to feel any attackers coming for conversation. 

They pass another couple of smaller villages, and then, if they're keeping around the same pace as yesterday, they'll reach what's obviously the Three Mills midway through the afternoon. There's a sawmill and a grain-mill and some other sort of mill, it's hard to tell from here. 

"Let's take a late lunch break here."

Ma'ar nods and slips down from the saddle, stiffly; he's still very sore. He points at the mills. "What are those?" 

"Mills? The water spins a wheel and then you can use that for work." She is also very sore, and doesn't actually feel any better than when she woke up, which is annoying; she really really wishes she could still do healing. She eats some of her bread, in case it helps, but if anything it seems to make things worse.

Ma'ar notices that she's quiet, and doesn't bother her with more questions, though once he's done carefully portioning out his bread, he runs out a bit in the field to get a better angle to see one of the mill-wheels, and stares fiercely at a while, moving his hands vaguely in the air as he tries to understand what it's doing and how it's cutting wood, he can't see the actual cutting part from here but some workers are carrying away planks of it. He didn't even know you could do that to wood; he's barely seen trees in his life. 

Awwwwwwww.

Ma'ar considers asking one of the mill-workers about it, but is too shy of strangers; before meeting Carissa and then Ma Okar, he had never in his life had a positive interaction with a stranger. He does find a stick and scratch a picture of it in the road-dirt and then stare at it intently. He's a little reluctant to be pulled away, but he does also want to reach the big city, and eventually this man called Urtho who's apparently a powerful mage. 

"- Are you all right?" he asks Carissa. She wasn't this quiet yesterday, and she's minimizing her movements the way people do when they're hurt or sick. 

"I have a couple of hypotheses and none of them are delightful but they're not an emergency." Probably. "In the city I might see a doctor and figure out which one is right."

He nods, a bit worriedly, and falls silent again.

The road does indeed peel off at a right angle from the river's current path, past all three mills; it's still not properly paved, but it's gravel rather than the kind of dirt that would turn straight to mud in the rain. There are cultivated fields on either side, though once they're further from the river the half-ripened crops aren't looking to be in great shape. Some farms have livestock. They pass small towns at more frequent intervals, every few miles; at one of them a swarm of half-wild turkeys tries to mob them, startling Ma'ar into wrenching his dagger from its sheath, but are frightened off by the Phantom Steeds. And by Ma'ar's instinctive levinbolt. He's small but he already has fast reflexes. 

They should stop at another small town before dusk, to buy dinner and see about a place to stay the night.

The town they reach shortly before dusk does have an actual inn, with a sign over the front; it also has a handful of shops on its single main street, and an awning over its farmers' market. The innkeeper, a man who isn't plump right now but gives the impression of having been at one point, is willing to trade them a shared room and supper in the taproom for cleaning help in the morning. Supper is equally boring, and still leaves Ma'ar looking utterly delighted at his luck. 

There are more travellers on the road here, and their shared room has two beds, narrow, but with actual straw-stuffed mattresses strung over ropes on wooden bedframes. The other is shared by middle-aged couple, both of whom snore. 

She works on making the dagger better. She can melt it down, later, if she needs the spellsilver for something else. The next improvement will take longer but that's all the more reason to start it right away.

Ma'ar, again, tries to stay awake and watch, but it's been another long day of unaccustomed riding, and he's yawning and drooping and the bed is so comfortable. He's never slept in a bed before. He falls asleep tangled in his wool blanket from the stolen pack. 

Carissa puts in eight hours on making his dagger nicer, and then spends what feels like forever cataloguing all of the possible explanations for feeling terrible, from 'I've just been riding horses too much' to 'I'm sick' to 'I'm pregnant' to 'Nefreti neglected to mention that this plane slowly drains power from you until you crumble into dust' to 'a parasitic worm has laid its eggs inside me and is sucking my blood for nourishment', and eventually sleeps. 

The beds are narrow and also sag in the middle when occupied, and she wakes up with Ma'ar snuggled closely against her, still fast asleep, his blanket kicked off and on the floor.