Oh.It hits me harder than it should. So maybe Tycho won’t be back soon after all. And a slow journey might put him in more danger. I swallow any emotion before it can form.
Would anyone tell me if he were injured? Would word even reach me? He kept insisting on discretion, so maybe no one would care.
I’m just a blacksmith. I don’t matter.
“Hey.” Sephran gives my sleeve a tug, and I look over. “Don’t worry. They’re all right.”
I force myself to nod, but then I realize there’s a weight in his eyes, too, a gravity to the way he says that.
“Mal is my best friend,” he adds. He hesitates, looking a little sheepish, and to my surprise, he blushes a little—then pats his chest, over his heart. “Best friend?”
I know this phrase, becausefriendis one of the first words I learned. It was the night we left Briarlock, and we were lying on our bedrolls, staring at the stars. I kept asking Tycho for the Emberish word for anything I could think of. I’m sure he was as exhausted as everyone else, but he was eternally patient, his voice low as he gave me the words forskyandgrassandchickensandbakery, most of which I forgot.
But there were some that stuck, likefriend, because it made me think of Callyn.
I nod to show I understand. “Sorry,” I say to Sephran. “You worry, too.”
“No sorry,” he teases, mimicking my accent from when I said the same thing to Molly.
That makes me smile, but now I’m the one blushing sheepishly.
Sephran hesitates, and I realize he’s debating what to say because a conversation is so complicated. It practically took a lifetime to tell me about the rumors and how mud and rain make travel slow.
Then his eyes light up, and he says, “Teach us some Syssalah.” He quickly rolls his eyes and adds, “But real words. Not like Malin.”
“Oh.” My eyebrows go up. “Ah . . .”
Molly looks over. “Yes! Please!”
To my surprise, even Leo looks interested.
A burst of raucous laughter erupts near the front of our traveling party, and I don’t know what about it draws my attention, but I look ahead. Niall and his friends have clearly found something hilarious, and they glance back our way.
I have no idea what they’re saying, but my stomach curls into a knot. I don’t want to speak Syssalah. Not right now.
But when I look back to Sephran, he’s watching me, his eyes picking me apart.
I’m sure I look wary and apprehensive. My fingers twist at the reins, and my shoulders feel tight. I should have gone with my instincts and put Teddy back in the stable.
Sephran nudges his horse closer to mine, then says, “Here. I’ll start.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, then peers at me. “Ah . . . ?what do I remember . . .Tahlasta mele?”
My head snaps around in surprise. I nearly do a double take.
He laughs at my expression. “I know alittle,” he says. “From Malin.”
“What did you say?” says Leo.
Sephran winces and cuts another glance my way. “Good dinner?”
He’s close, but before I can say anything, Molly says, “Food!Meleis food. It’s on the paper from Lord Tycho.”
“Yes,” I say.
Leo looks at me. “Tahlastais ‘good’?”
I have no idea how I would explain grammar, so I shake my head. “Tahlas—good.Tahlasta mele—good food.”
Molly’s eyes light up. “ ‘Morning’ was on the paper, too. So . . . ?tahlasta dasima? Good morning?”
