An Accident of Stars by Foz Meadows

chance to digest their conversation in private – or, better still, to pretend it away entirely, at least for a while.
    â€œOK,” she said, and forced herself to smile.
----
    Z ech waited until Gwen was gone from the room before setting the tray down and dragging the chair over to Saffron’s side. Saffron watched her with sharp resignation, as though nothing Zech could do or say would surprise her. Impishly hoping to disprove this attitude, Zech resettled the tray on her own knees, gestured to its contents and said firmly, in the language her magic told her was called English, “Eat.”
    Much to her satisfaction, Saffron’s eyebrows shot up. She started speaking eagerly in the same tongue, but much too quickly for Zech to comprehend. Raising a hand to stop the tirade, she reached out and took the older girl by the hand, letting her magic seep between them.
    â€œZuymet,” she said, and this time, she could tell Saffron understood. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on strengthening last night’s connection: a tentative mind-link, poorly built, that had nonetheless fostered trust between them. Matu would be proud of her, she thought, which was the highest praise she could imagine. Though kemeta, he’d once been offered a coveted place with Sahu’s Kin – but then, one had only to look at Matu to realise he would’ve been poorly suited to a life of worship, study and service.
    At that thought, Zech’s concentration wavered. Nearly a month had passed since Matu had left the compound on some unknown errand for Yasha: his departure had come bare days after Gwen’s, and in all that time, Zech had had no word from him. Biting her lip, she steadied her connection with Saffron, then broke it off cleanly.
    â€œThat’s enough,” she said in Kenan. “Do you understand?”
    Saffron blinked, then slowly answered in the same language, “Yes, I do. I… wow. I’m really making sense?”
    Zech beamed at her. “Yes! That’s it. I speak, you speak, the magic moves, and we both understand. It’s tricky, though.”
    â€œHow does it work? What are the, ah, limitations ?” This last word in English: evidently, Saffron hadn’t yet received the Kenan equivalent from Zech’s vocabulary.
    Zech frowned, trying to remember how Matu had originally explained it to her. “Learning from other people is harder, though still faster than regular learning. But talking to me is different. The more you talk to me, the quicker you learn. Even without the magic, we’re linked now. Zechalia and Saffron.”
    Saffron gave a small shake of her head, but offset it by smiling. “ Saff -ron,” she corrected. “Not Sa- ferrin .”
    Zech tried to copy her, but the syllables sat strangely on her tongue. She called up some of the English words she’d acquired, trying to find others with a similar cadence. Battle. Lecture. Copycat. When she tried again, her attempt was closer, but still not right. She pulled a face.
    â€œSafi?” she offered – a compromise. Saffron was too long for everyday use, anyway, no matter how you pronounced it.
    The older girl laughed. “Safi,” she agreed.
    Zech grinned. “You say mine now,” she instructed. “See if it sounds right.”
    Safi considered. “Zech,” she said at last. “Zechalia.”
    Gleefully, Zech corrected her. “Soft at the end, not hard.”
    Safi tried again and again. Even knowing that the zuymet extended only to vocabulary, not accent, there was still something delightful in seeing it proven true. After her eighth failed attempt, Safi laughed. “Fine! You win.” Shyly, she gestured to the breakfast tray and asked in English, “What is all this stuff, anyway?”
    With growing happiness, Zech began to tell her.
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    â€œ S he’s awake , then?” Yasha asked.Gwen nodded. “And coping surprisingly well, too