Oathen by Jasmine Giacomo Page B

change. Their rule was known as the
Tamkrit Dynasty, though it only lasted three generations. Jualan
was the official language of the rulers of Shanal during that time.
I think they’ve kept many Jualan words to this day.”
    “Yes, they have,” Meena said.
    “Oh, well that’s handy,” Geret grinned,
speaking Jualan to Kemsil. “We’ve already learned that from you.”
When he caught Sanych’s questioning glance, he repeated himself in
Versal.
    “Well, I haven’t,” Sanych said.
    “Shanallese has been the official language
again for three hundred years,” Meena reminded them. “Though they
still spoke Jualan exclusively in some of the distant villages
during my last trip to Shanal. That was about sixty years
ago.”
    “So,” Sanych asked, “we need to learn
Shanallese?”
    Geret rolled his eyes. “I hate
studying.”
    “You seemed to learn Jualan easily enough,”
Salvor commented.
    “Well, Anjoya was a very…” Geret shot an
embarrassed look at Kemsil, “…engaging teacher.”
    Kemsil merely smiled. “Yes, she is that. But
you had no trouble picking up insults and curses in—how many
languages can you curse in, anyway?”
    Geret laughed. “Seven. The Kauna’kana insults
for being slow were particularly useful during the harbor
rebuilding. And I know four ways to insult someone’s mother in
Jualan alone, and five—no, six—ways to call someone a—”
    “Geret.” Salvor raised an eyebrow at
him.
    “Fat sloven,” Geret finished. In response to
Salvor’s continued glare, he raised his eyebrows innocently.
“What?” He turned to Sanych and grinned. “It’s really a horrible
insult to the Jualans. I like dhun jai best. Means ‘sea
cow’.” He made a watery moo.
    Kemsil winced in exaggerated
fashion.
    Sanych raised an eyebrow at her prince. “You
know the sea cow is no bovine relation at all, but more closely
associated with dolphins, right?”
    “Stop ruining the joke, Sanych,” Meena said
with a grin. “Now then, today I want to start teaching you
Shanallese. Then you and I can focus on teaching the others who’ll
be accompanying us ashore into Cish.”
    “Does this mean you’re ready to share the rest
of the plan details with us?” Geret asked, a hint of impatience in
his voice.
    Meena smiled at him. “I’ll be happy to share
every little detail of my plan with you.”
    “Superb.” Geret rubbed his hands in
anticipation.
    “In Shanallese.”
    “You’re a wicked heroine, you know that?” he
said, glaring in mock anger.
    “I’m aware,” she said, a sly smile on her
lips.
    “I’m not comfortable with you as bait for
anything, Geret,” Salvor said.
    “You forget yourself, my lord Thelios,” Geret
said, his voice cool. “You’re walking proof of her extraordinary
abilities. I’ll gladly put my life in Meena’s hands.”
    “I’m sure I have no idea what makes you think
Geret’s the bait, Salvor,” Meena said, meeting his hazel eyes. He
glanced at Sanych and opened his mouth to reply.
    “Maybe you could discuss this outside,” the
Archivist interrupted, drumming her nails on the table. “I have a
Shanallese lesson now.”
    Salvor gave Meena a sharp look. “My
apologies,” he said to Sanych. He rose and left the
cabin.
    “Sorry, Sanych,” Geret added. To Meena, he
said, “I’m still going to trust you.”
    She searched his face for several moments,
then nodded. Geret took his leave then, followed by
Kemsil.
    Meena’s voice carried down the corridor as
Kemsil began to close the cabin door. “Lesson one: the five words
never to say to a Shanallese woman. Cainar means ‘helpful’.
Don’t confuse it with cainor : ‘slutty’…”
    ~~~
    “I’m going with you, Geret,” Salvor said, the
moment they reached the top deck. Kemsil excused himself to stand
by the rail, adjusting the settings on the Circuit.
    “I believe that’s a given at this point,”
Geret said dryly. “I’d wager Meena’s probably counting on it for
some facet of her plan to