You will remember what I said before about how talents make one arrogant. Until that moment, it had never occurred to me that those who were not auditory mimics learned languages in a different way. To be clear, I could not have cared less whether the Qin students in my classes learned anything at all. They didn’t seem particularly worried about it themselves. But I felt I was doing Shayat a disservice. “I’m afraid I can’t change much in the class. There were complaints.”

“I am shocked,” she said.

I frowned at her. “I was about to make an offer to you, you know. I could do without the mockery.”

She grinned at me. “You’re very sensitive.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, professor. If you say so. What’s this offer?”

“I would be willing to tutor you if you’d like. Once or twice a week. To teach you Athenorkos and Lothic in a way that works for you.”

She stared at me for a long moment, then she smiled, and the smile was pleased and genuine. I am certain I blushed. “Papa?”

“Yes?” The tailor emerged from his storeroom with his arms full of City wools.

“The professor and I have struck a deal. His clothes are on the house.”

Shayat’s father shot her a curious look. “You bargain my services, Shayat?”

It was a joy to see her knocked off-kilter. “Papa, it is a good deal.”

“For you.”

“I will pay you back.”

“When?”

“When I get the routes going.”

Her father laid out the cloth. “I am marking it in the ledger. Give us some privacy, Shayat. I need to take the professor’s measurements.”

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Dirva woke me on Saturday morning. The single pleasant thing about teaching at Ralah College had been that the classes were scheduled according to Qin rhythms, and not to Semadran rhythms. We work every day, every single day without exception. The Qin get time for reflection and spiritual growth. Apparently our spirits don’t have all that much growing to do. In any case, I was on a Qin schedule, but I was paid a pittance because an elf on a Qin schedule is really an elf working only two-thirds of the time. I had been permitted to sleep as late as my body demanded on Saturday morning, a thing I relished, until I agreed to tutor Shayat Bachel’Parvi. She ripped the simple pleasure of sleep on those Saturday mornings from me as easily as she ripped away my dignity every time I spoke to her.

“Ariah, you have an appointment,” Dirva said. He stood over my cot, his hands on his hips. He looked somewhat perplexed, but mostly he looked annoyed.