Page 36 of Sonnets and Serpents
If she didn’t keep moving, she might drown.
“Maybe I could help,” she offered begrudgingly.
He squinted at her. “You want to handle snake bones?”
When she blanched, he snorted. Setting the list down, he came over to a nearby shelf.
“Here.” He plucked a book, extending it. “Pravish dictionary. I saw you writing words this morning.”
With a sigh, she took the dictionary and seated herself on a cushion in the corner opposite from the white snake, who’d settled into a little area of branches and rocks clearly meant for vacationing such creatures.
Silas gathered materials from the shelves, and she shivered, picturing bones and everything else. With effort, she forced herself to focus on the pages before her.
Only to realize she couldn’t read them.
“Useless Cast.” Eliza glared down at her bracelet. “If it makes me understand Pravish, why can’t I read it?”
“People can understand a spoken language and still be illiterate,” Silas said offhandedly. He spread his chosen materials across the desk and took a seat. “Sound it out. Pravish uses the same alphabet Loegrian does, minus a few letters, likex.”
Tipping a bottle, he emptied a collection of what looked like small rib bones into his hand, carefully counting out a dozen at a time, which he then bound with thread, as if preparing a bundle of kindling for a fire.
His side glance made Eliza’s cheeks burn, and she looked down at the dictionary’s first page.
“Abajur,” she said slowly, feeling silly. It meant nothing to her.
“Softerjsound,” said Silas. “Abajur.”
As soon as he said it, she understood.Lantern.
She glared down at her bracelet once more. For all the things magic could do, it certainly didn’t like to be straightforward in them.
“Abakar,” she tried next.
“The tip of your tongue should flick your palate on ther.”
Eliza glared at him. “Are you going to do this with every word?”
“Depends.” His side glance was now decidedly taunting. “Are you going to get every word wrong?”
“Ha!” She smacked her finger into the page. “This one’s the same as Loegrian.Abide.”
He winced as if she’d caused him physical pain. “Same letters. Different pronunciation and meaning.Abide.Ah-bee-day.”
As soon as he said it, she understood.Memorial.
“Ofcourse,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Soobvious.” She huffed. “They should have different letters so it’s not confusing.”
He mimicked her sarcastic tone. “Ofcourse. How thoughtlessof Pravish not to consider the Loegrian princess’s confusion when developing its language.”
Despite herself, she laughed, noticing the way Silas flashed a quick smile when she did.
“Give me your magic writing thing,” she said, extending her hand.
He pursed his lips. Then, after a moment, he rifled through his bag, extracting the writing instrument. He brought it over but pulled back as she reached for it. “Be careful. If it breaks, it’ll ruin books and clothing alike.”
“I know the dangers of an inkpot,” she said, stretching for it again.
He held it just out of reach. “It’s apalem.”
