Hamish had his back to the lab door as Aarav left, so he didn’t know how much the Slime had seen or not seen, for that matter. But he had a Queen to answer to, so there was no time to waste. Thankfully Aarav had decided to do his training outdoors, in the courtyard or garden or anywhere but the lab. That worked perfectly for Haemish’s purposes.

The substance in front of him that he had spent the best part of last night trying to understand vibrated in front of him. This time he was sure he had not nudged the table, so where was the vibration coming from? Or why was a semi-solid liquid vibrating for no apparent reason? More tests were required. The putty, for it, was more that than liquid, seemed perfectly clear. Not a speck of dust or dirt to be found, but then that was to be expected, he supposed, with it being covered. He had not expected the volcanic glass cover to slightly dip in the lid, exactly where the Slime had been touching. He would not have even noticed it if the sight through the glass was not distorted ever so slightly. As he ran his fingertip inside, Haemish found it perfectly smooth. There were no scratches or blemishes that he could feel with his Perceptive fingers. And yet, there was absolutely a divot in the glass. It did not make any sense; he knew for a fact that all of his utensils were perfectly made if this had been there before, he would eat his muddy shoes.

No, this had been caused overnight by some mechanism that this sample of slime created. Could it be? Haemish took a pinch of powder from a jar above his head and dumped it on the slime, then sat to watch. Could it be what he thought? It was a lot to expect, but you never knew what you could uncover.

Meanwhile, the results of his other tests had come back a while ago. The results were waiting for him. The orb of information would tell him everything he wished to know about this material in the dish.

He replaced the covering lid back on the slime and stepped over to the side where the information had been forming. Touching one of these was always a little unpleasant, like a knife being scrapped over one’s brain; you almost felt it was looking for a place to cut. The Potion Master braced himself on his feet and tentatively reached for the orb.

As soon as the first molecule of his fingertip made contact with the golden globe of light, his entire being shuddered. This was not like a knife scraping. It was ten knives stabbing in, cutting and rearranging sections as it saw fit. It was all Haemish could do to remain conscious, and he was not sure it was the correct choice. A hoarse scream ripped from his clenched jaw despite trying to keep it contained. What was this?

But then, as quickly as it started, the pain stopped, leaving him reeling and panting like a winded dog. His knees trembled as shaky hands grasped blindly behind him for somewhere to sit and catch his breath.

“What happened, sir?” a loud voice said from the lab’s entrance. A servant in palace livery turned his head to see the winded Haemish, and Haemish waved at him to come over.

“Nothing bad young man, just do me a favour and fetch me some water and some of Cook’s wonderful baked treats, would you? Be a good lad.” The man looked well into his thirties but seeing Haemish’s state, he did not say more and instead nodded and dashed off to get the job done. It wasn’t his place to question, for which Haemish was thankful.

What on Blore just happened? Haemish couldn’t think straight, mid still reeling from the severe blow. Already he could feel that things were different. He could not fathom even the air around him felt different for some reason. As he closed his eyes and breathed, flashes of those symbols, he had seen in Aarav’s status clouded his mind. He saw them, but instead of being gibberish, he felt some underlying meaning in them.

As Haemish tried to parse apart the symbols that were flooding his mind, he sensed a pattern. Some hidden meaning behind all of it. It was there, right on the tip of his tongue, and yet half a universe away. “What is happening to me? I have no recollection of learning this information. I do not understand this.” Haemish said aloud, hoping that speaking the words aloud would help him order his thoughts.

It did not help in the slightest.

Haemish’s mind calmed slightly as the minutes passed, the tumultuous scattering of thoughts coalesced a little, and some understanding and meaning came. Haemish breathed out, the pain gone, and the chaos beginning to ebb made him feel better.

“Riucbaosihbvurtiaufkhsj irhoiahfroi?” The servant was back with a tray of warm honey cakes and a pitcher of ice-cold water. Haemish eagerly moved close to where the man set the tray and reached for the pitcher before stopping.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Haemish asked, not sure what he had heard.

The server looked at Haemish, confused, then asked. “eiohsorrybqour ifuhqoierurf ifbwoqiunderstanduqwh?” This time, it was a little clearer, but he thought he heard the words ‘sorry’ and ‘understand’ there, but it was still gibberish. What was going on?

“I am sorry, son, I am afraid I do not understand.” The server just shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “You don’t understand me?” Haemish was using all the gestures, but maybe the man did not understand the gestures alone. Clearly, Haemish was not talking the same way as when he spoke to the server before. What had changed between feeling the pain and now?

Haemish waved the man off, not trusting his mouth to speak words the server would comprehend. Then realizing what he had done, just raised the glass of water to him in thanks. The man nodded and backed away, looking very strangely at Haemish.

Haemish could freely panic as soon as he left, but first a pastry! Taking a bite of that gorgeous tasting pastry was one of the highlights of being in the palace. It almost made it worth being here and away from the forest and his cabin in the woods. Almost worth it.

“I suppose I better understand what is wrong with my brain. I feel as though I can think correctly, so perhaps that is a plus. Who knows, though? While I believe I am behaving normally, someone outside might think differently.” Haemish spoke aloud.

“What’s that Haemish?” Aarav came back around the corner, “I forgot my Mana potions, and I –“ Aarav froze. Haemish had no idea why.

“Aarav, what happened?” Haemish asked, a little startled that something had spooked the Slime this much.

“Haemish, why are you speaking English?” Aarav asked, complete shock on his face.

“Huh? What is Ing-lish?” Haemish asked, confusion painted on his.

“That is a language not spoken in Darf or any other country that I know of here. Why are you speaking it?” Aarav insisted.

“Haemish still a little fuzzy, just rattled off the truth. “I don’t know, I touch something, and then my brain was doused in agony, and then I –.“ Haemish dashed over to the counter, his stomach bouncing with him, almost knocking over half a dozen beakers and test set up on his way. His hands moved about the counter where the orb had been, but, as expected, there was nothing, every time he used this Skill, he absorbed the sphere without a trace. There was no point in checking. But what happened? Now the Slime says I am speaking a language, not from Darf? I don’t feel like I am? Is it possible to articulate a language without knowing it?

“Haemish, what happened? That language we are speaking is not Darfan, you know that, right?” Aarav said again.

“What, no, I am speaking Darfan, the way I always do.” Haemish said, “If I speak another language, I would know. How can I learn a new language in a day and perfectly fluently?” Haemish said. Then he caught on. “How do you know I am speaking this other language, and how are you conversing with me in this language? You have been in the forest, and you have been here. Where could you have learned it? In the forest from one of the native tribes?” Haemish was rambling, and he knew it, but questions were his best friend when he did not have any answers. He would not let this go. It was too suspicious this time.

“The point is, how are you speaking it? It is the native language of my species!” Aarav yelled back.

“Slime language is called English?”

“Yes, it is. Are you happy now?”

“And the symbols in your head from the language too?”