Winter 2007 4

Actually it was Nico being practical, as well as trying to get Helmine to relax a bit. It didn't seem to be working very well.

She asked Weft, "How about now?"

"Oh... yes. For as long as he wants to stay, anyway." The monk indicated Suitov with his head.

"Ahem?"

"Oh. Uh." Weft switched languages. "I seem to've volunteered to help Nico here teach Helmine Interworld. When I'm not busy with you or on mission, obviously."

"Smashing idea. May I put in a vote to teach her 'I'm surrounded by stupidity' first?" Helmine might get some mileage out of the phrase. Just a hunch. Ahem.

Weft smirked a little. "You may, and I may even think about forgiving you if it makes her crack a smile."

Still, he was nervous of the whole thing. Not because of who the pupil was (after all, who was she? Merely familiar bone structure and complexion), but because...

Weft scooted closer so he could lower his voice a little. Daaren he didn't mind overhearing, Nico he would rather not. "I've never taught anyone anything non-physical before. How do I do it?"

"However your student wants to learn," Suitov said, and held his gaze for a second.

Helmine was having one of those moments where she didn't feel all that comfortable. All this fussing over her. It seemed fishy. She hid her doubts well, however. "The present is the best of times," she quoted, although she suspected nobody present would know the source.

Nico shook the pan a little and answered, "Right." Offhand she could have named a handful of people who'd come up with a sentiment along those lines to be quoted later.

"So, would you prefer starting with 'I'm surrounded by idiots', as Suitov suggests, or with more usual, 'hello, my name is'-stuff?" She was still smiling bordering on grinning, but was obviously dialing down the chipperness.

Daaren kept working on the chestnuts slowly, and listened and watched.

Helmine, arms crossed in front of her chest, stared at Nico openly for a moment. She then sent Suitov a glance that would have been bad news if Helmine hadn't been grinning. Or so it seemed. "Now that it has been mentioned, I think I would very much like to know how to express exasperation like so. But I believe the more usual mode of study will do just nicely afterwards."

He couldn't be sure what was being said, so Suitov made no attempt to butt into the conversation.

Weft shifted back in the direction of the others. He glanced now and again at how Nico handled the pan, making no comment.

Nico started with "You are an idiot", followed by "You are idiots", and "I'm surrounded by idiots", explaining the grammatical differences. After a break to flip the pan over, she repeated the same constructions replacing "idiot" with a term for a clumsy rather than a stupid person.

Hearing the examples, Daaren smirked a bit.

Helmine had an above average understanding of grammar -- after all, she had to teach it to children --, but she could tell this wasn't going to be easy. She heard some of those sounds, but reproducing them was going to be difficult.

Besides, the thought of... declensions, or the lack of them in... well.

Helmine wrote this down on a small notebook which she produced from her coat's pocket. "Wonderful." Then she looked at Nico. "You are an idiot." Her vowels were a bit long, but then, perhaps that didn't come as a surprise for Weft or Nico.

"Yessss, right!" she replied, grinning like a pumpkin, and chuckled. She'd expected something like that since the first mention of insults and was of the opinion a bit of fun helped learning along.

She looked at Weft, a bit belatedly trying to check his reaction to that choice of first lesson, and if he wanted to take the initiative.

Although taking notice of the change from uncountable "stupidity" to plural "idiots", Weft didn't interrupt.

In turn, he took her through a small selection of utility words - pleasantries, complaints and a few alternatives to convey lack of understanding.

He didn't know what to make of the inventors' claims that this was an easy language to learn. (Grubby hippies.) Weft had had the core information inserted into his head, thankfully freeing him from having to grasp the basics by himself.

"Shall I help?" Suitov asked the chestnut-nicking Daaren.

He nodded with a hint of a smile and moved the bag of chestnuts so it was easier to reach. "Thanks."
Since the bowls were rather small, Daaren had already filled three.

Selecting another of the knives Nico had brought, Iceheart joined in.

"So. Knocked herself out, eh?"

"Set herself up, probably." There was some underlying amusement there.

Nico didn't comment, since she was busy asking Helmine what area of phrases would be of most interest to her.

"Take me to your leader?" Helmine suggested.

Nico choked, stifling a gigglefit. "Sorry."

She turned to Weft. "I can't quite remember, was there one general term, or only three different depending on if it was religious, political or military leader?"

"Take me to who's in charge around here," Weft said in both languages in turn. Naughty, yes: the interworld version was alliterative and Weft was in some ways a very weak monastic.

"You know, 'cause there are lots of words borrowed from other languages, especially with politics... um, you can just construct a word like war-leader and it works."

Suitov, referring back to Daaren's earlier comment about the snow, asked him about indigenous meteorological conditions.

Helmine shrugged. That was true enough. She still didn't know why Nico found the sentence so funny. "All right. What about... I need lodgings -- no fleas?"

Nico gave her a version replacing fleas with bugs - "because you probably don't want lice or bedbugs or ticks, either."

Daaren told Suitov, "Four seasons, warm in summer, cold in winter, with spring and autumn in between." He'd gotten around far enough not to assume people taking that for granted, when he remembered. "Snow that stuck around for most of winter." A bit disapprovingly he went on, "In the last place I was that claimed to have winter, snow melted after a day, if it fell at all."

"My goodness. That much snow wouldn't suffice for me." Suitov meant it, too. "Where I live they count eight seasons, but it's the same idea. Lengthening days and warmer weather until Blinkday, what other people call midsummer, then shorter again until Glanceday, midwinter."

"If you spend any time around Iceheart and his demon, you'll need 'flea-ridden mongrel'," Weft added, then translated the term into Wessian.

Suitov might have been sparing half an ear for the language lessons. If so, he didn't react to Weft's favourite insult to his pet.

Helmine narrowed her eyes as she looked at Weft. The man, whatever his species, had just pushed the wrong button. "Perhaps," she suddenly said with a bit of force behind her words, "you would like to teach me how to say 'that was uncalled for'. It occurs to me that this may come useful."