other even when they can’t talk about it. I think your dad was waiting for my dad to say something.
You wouldn’t really drag me to your precious Caves if I’d been whining and horrible, would you?
He looked surprised. Of course we would. We promised.
Things change, she said, thinking of old Orflung asking her if she wanted to come here, thinking of what had happened last night. Things change.
Not giving your word, said Ebon firmly. Giving your word doesn’t change. Ever.
She looked at him and for a moment the chasm that had lain between every human and every pegasus since Viktur had first followed the path through the mountains lay between her and Ebon, and it was so wide she knew they could never bridge it.
And then Ebon leaned over and shoved her hard with his nose. Aren’t you ever going to get up? It’s really pretty here and there’s a hill that has the best sunsets, and it’s a day for a good sunset. And there’s a shfeeah with a paper maker on the way, and an orchard. But you have to walk to it and I suppose you’re going to insist on having one of your baths first? I’ll make your breakfast—hrrifinig—pegasi usually had two or three more quick meals in a day than humans did, including hrrifinig between breakfast and lunch—lunch. Late lunch. Hurry up.
She could see that it was a day that should have a glorious sunset. But what was even more glorious to Sylvi was that she finally met some pegasus children: little ones, with long knobby legs and little ribby bodies—and barely fledged wings. There were several of them, and they hid behind their parents and their bigger siblings and peeped out at her. How can you know anything about a people if you have never seen its children?
She didn’t know how to make friends with them—she didn’t know what would look like a friendly gesture to a pegasus baby—and somehow she didn’t want to ask. If she had to ask it would be no good.
But children are always curious. She sat down on the ground to eat her porridge, thinking about what she could do to attract them that wouldn’t look totally foolish when it didn’t work. After she’d finished eating she put her bowl on the ground and crouched over it (it was shallow enough that she could, and did, lick it out first), staring into it as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. This was not difficult to do: the bowl had the same gentle luminescence that every pegasus-made object she had seen did: the soft glow of the endless tiny rubbing of feather hands that produced it. And the wood it was made of was strange to her, and the colour of the tree-rings as they faded one into the next was very beautiful. She remained staring—very conscious of a baby who had come right out from behind its mother to stare at her—hoping that Ebon wouldn’t come along and laugh at her too soon.
The almost-inaudible tap of tiny light hoofs. She didn’t dare look; the baby’s mother must be aware of what was happening.
With one of her little cousins she’d have needed a better toy than a bowl. But wasn’t she herself the new toy? Very slowly she put out one of her hands, very slowly uncurled one finger and very slowly touched the bottom of the bowl with her pointing finger.
The baby was a small but definite presence a little to her right; she could see out of the corner of her eye the slender shadows of its legs move as it took another step toward her. And now she could hear as it breathed in and out sharply, as if surprised at the smell of human. Sylvi hoped it wasn’t an unpleasant smell. She continued to stare at the bowl, and at her own finger.
Around her silence was falling: the silent voices were falling silent; the slight rustling of pegasi going about their business stilled.
The baby gave a prance. No, Sylvi thought, I’m not going to look at you; you have to come to me.
And it pranced up to her, and stopped, and put its face down, and touched her hand with its nose. Her nose: this fine little nose had to belong to a girl. Sylvi looked up then and smiled—smiled involuntarily, showing her teeth, the way humans do; humans bare their teeth when they’re pleased. But the baby didn’t skitter away, but