she was able to. She tried not to shrink toward Ebon, although out of the corner of her eye she saw that his feathers were ruffling up, which indicated he was upset too.
The queen said, “Thiiss iss Hibeehea, ouu gheaaesss shamaaahn.”
“And Speaker,” said Hibeehea. “A service you appear not to require.”
“Oh, sir!” she blurted out, too miserable at the revelation that she’d gone wrong already to try to think what she ought to say, or whether she could say any of it in pegasi. “I only wished to show that I am trying !” Awkwardly she added, “Ffffwhifwif. Sangharaharah. Tisianhaa!” Sir. Beg much pardon. Am trying!
Mysteriously, this was the right thing to say. Some of the stiffness went out of Hibeehea, and the queen laughed aloud, raising her head and letting a long, light, singing heeeee slip out between her lips.
“It is partly my fault,” said her father from where he stood next to his bond-brother, and Sylvi noticed that he was not speaking slowly, as he did when, in the human palace, he hoped Lrrianay might understand. “I have told her to study your oral language and to ask Ebon to help her. I’m afraid I have led her to believe that the unusualness of the bond between her and her bond-brother puts a greater responsibility on her, in this and in other things.”
“As it does, king,” said Hibeehea. “As it does. And it is not to be expected that children should understand all the ways of speech and courtesy, especially in a stranger’s home. Nor perhaps should it be expected that an old shaman, long accustomed to the undisturbed ways of his people, should at once perceive what is happening under his nose—especially in a strange child of a people whom my people have believed for a thousand years cannot learn to speak to us as we speak to each other. Welcome, small one, you have studied well.”
Now what? Do I say thank you or genfwa? she thought. Oh, wasn’t there a thank you just for shamans? What . . . mlaaralalaam perhaps? Should she risk it? So she said all three, getting into a muddle about the aa’s, and added some extra ff’s again to ffffwifwif. To her surprise he unfolded one wing and touched the centre of her forehead with the tips of his primaries. And then he walked away.
Whew, said Ebon. That was worse than flying over the mountains with Guaffa and a boulder.
What just happened? Can he hear us?
Not now. I mean, yes, me anyway, but he won’t be listening. Shamans don’t listen unless they give you fair warning. But don’t talk to me if he’s talking to you!
But what happened?
I don’t know exactly. But he hasn’t been happy with you and your dad coming here. You particularly. Your dad didn’t get a Speaker here because he and my dad are bond-blood. If you can talk to the reigning monarch you don’t have to be able to talk to anyone else—that’s something out of one of the oldest chronicles, from before your first king, before the Alliance—I don’t know who else we’re supposed to be able to do silent-speech with, but it’s a really long time ago. And then you humans happened and you couldn’t talk to our sovereign but we were still allies, and this bonding thing was invented. Although before you and me they’d decided being able to talk to the sovereign was symbolic—but humans never come here so the rule never got used with you anyway. Some of the older ones, especially the shamans, who—who hold us together, you know? The shamans hold all of us together like those words they taught us hold the draia—they got really worried about the old rule with you coming here and they decided that our dads were going to count as being able to talk to each other, but what about you?
So it’s this big good thing that your dad doesn’t get a Speaker and then it’s this big uneasy thing that you’re going to have to have one because you can’t talk to the king even though the reason you’re here is that you can talk to the king’s fourth son. So to make the uneasiness go away you have the huge honour of Hibeehea as your Speaker. He’s scary but he’s not a bad old bird really and having decided to support your coming he said he’d be your Speaker. And it may be an even huger honour to you as a