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and I was sitting on a stool I d brought outside, drying my feathers, as I
said before; and there was a sprookje, staring at me with those great solemn
eyes of theirs. So I said hello. And said hello
it
Just a minute, Om im. In what language?
In GalLing . It was too tall for a Bluesippan, after all. At any rate, I was
stunned and it was stunned, or gave a good facsimile thereof. Finally I said,
I m pleased to meet you, and went on to introduce myself. I got about
halfway through my self-introduction before I realized that the sprookje was
parroting me, word for word, inflection for inflection. I was so surprised I
stopped midway through my name, and a second or two later, that s precisely
where the sprookje stopped.
By this time, a couple of other people had come over, slowly, of course, so
they wouldn t frighten the creature. So I tried again. This time, I introduced
Buntec. And the blunted sprookje kept pace again, just a little behind me.
But when Buntec spoke, also in GalLing , it was as if she didn t exist at
all. And that, children, is how your uncle Om im acquired his sprookje. The
Bluesippan s puzzled look was replaced by an ironic one; his narrative had
failed to give him the clue he d been seeking.
If it s any consolation, said Tocohl, I didn t find anything either.
Om im lifted his gilded eyebrows and raised his cup to her. Sharp as Tam
shan s blade! You come by your reputation honestly, Ish shan.
Hah! You established it in your own mind when you chose that nickname for
me. She leaned back, then said, I believe you have payment coming. What do I
owe so far?
I think, he said slowly, as if in an effort to keep his voice light, that
you have more than repaid me.
You re right: I believe the sprookjes are sentient. Strongly enough at least
to know they must be given a chance. The chance is yours.
Tocohl met his eyes with practiced misunderstanding.
He laughed, his eyes merry beneath his gilded brows. No, Ish shan, he said,
that won t help. My
Hellspark may not be the best, but I can tell a hawk from a handsaw when I
hear it in your tongue.
It took Tocohl a moment to understand& In the Bluesippan translation the words
were identical but for a and a , the difference between her name and her
father s.
si su
By the time she had grasped his meaning, she knew she had no cause for alarm.
His dagger was on the table; he slid it, hilt-first, across to her. My blade
is at your service, Tocohl Susumo, he said. That is the least I can do for
Oloitokitok and for the sprookjes.
She laid her hand across the hilt, accepting his service and his silence.
Chapter Eight
A
KISS ON the hand is worth all this? thought Buntec incredulously as she looked
down at the table spread with Vyrnwyn delicacies. She didn t recognize
any of these foods, but the Vyrnwyn obviously considered the visual side
of eating at least as important as the flavor. Spread before her were a dozen
separate plates, each a different size here a delicate gold paste heaped high
in a black bowl, topped with a sprinkling of something round and rosy; there,
on a pale blue plate, semitransparent slices of something pure white arranged
in the shape, yes, in the shape of a frostwillow.
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Buntec stared at each wonder in turn& When she found her voice at last it was
to say, They re beautiful, Edge-of-Dark, beautiful! Surely you don t expect
me to eat them! Realizing this might be misunderstood, she added hastily,
If I
eat them, they ll be gone
. Shouldn t we at least take a picture or ! Her arm flung wide, as if of its
own accord, to encompass the entire display.
Edge-of-Dark smiled. To Buntec s surprise, it was not the patronizing smile
she d seen so many times before but a genuinely warm and open smile that
suited her rich features so perfectly that Buntec was overwhelmed.
Perfection never lasts, Edge-of-Dark said. We eat them because they
are beautiful. If they weren t, we shouldn t bother. Smiling still, she
added, We differ so much, you and I, I was unsure of your tastes in food. I m
glad to know that I am already partially correct.
Buntec hesitated, unwilling to disturb that luminous image of frostwillow.
That one, said Edge-of-Dark, is eaten with this she indicated one of the
three unfamiliar utensils that lay before Buntec and I won t know if you like
the way it tastes unless you taste it. Please.
Buntec raised the little gold-pronged implement Edge-of-Dark had
indicated and, taking a deep breath, speared a piece of frostwillow. In
that brief moment, she found the time and the honesty to admit to herself that
if Edge-of-Dark s wearing boots could mean that she felt so relieved, then
perhaps a little hand-kissing could make all the difference to Edge-of-Dark.
The frostwillow was cold and crisp and delicately spicy. She
couldn t tell if it was animal or vegetable, but she reached for a
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