“Was this the question you had for Mr. Audubon?” asked Alvin. “Asking why he thinks it’s worth killing birds to paint them? Cause if it was, you sure picked a rude way to ask it.”

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur Stuart.

“And I think he gave you a fair answer, Arthur Stuart. If he was shooting birds and selling them to a poulterer you wouldn’t think twice cause it’s nature’s way, killing and eating. It’s all right to shoot a bird so some family can buy the carcass and roast it up and eat it gone. But iffen you just paint it, that makes him a killer?”

“I know,” said Arthur Stuart. “I knowed that right along.”

“Then what was all this shouting for?” asked Alvin.

“I don’t know,” said Arthur. “I don’t know why I got so mad.”

“I know why,” said Jean-Jacques.

“You do?” asked Alvin.

“Of course,” said Jean-Jacques. “The gooses do not like to die. But they cannot speak. They cannot, how you say, complain. So. You are the interpreter for birds.”

Arthur Stuart had no answer for this. They walked in silence for a while, as the road led them to the outlying buildings and then quickly into the city, the ground turning into a cobbled street under them.

“I think of a question for you, King Arthur,” said Jean-Jacques at last.

“What,” said Arthur, sounding far from enthusiastic.

“The sound you make, no goose ever make this sound. But they understand you.”

“Wish you could have heard him when he was younger,” said Alvin. “He sounded just like any bird you want.”

“He lost this when his voice change? Getting low?”

“Earlier,” said Alvin. He could not explain how he changed Arthur Stuart’s body so that the Finders couldn’t claim him. Though Jean-Jacques seemed a decent enough fellow, it wouldn’t be good to have any witness who could affirm that Arthur really was the runaway slave the Finders had been looking for.

“But my question,” said Jean-Jacques, “is how you learn this language. You never hear this language, so how to learn it?”

“I do hear the language,” said Arthur. “I’m talking their language right back to them. I just have a really thick human accent.”

At this, Jean-Jacques burst out laughing, and so did Alvin. “Human accent,” Jean-Jacques repeated.

“It ain’t like the geese talk in words anyway,” said Arthur. “It’s more like, when I talk, I’m making the sound that says, Hi, I’m a goose, and then the rest of it says things like, everything’s safe, or, quick let’s fly, or, hold still now. Not words. Just... wishes.”

“But there was a time,” said Alvin, “when I saw you talking to a redbird and it told you all kinds of stuff and it wasn’t just wishes, it was complicated.”

Arthur thought about it. “Oh, that time,” he finally said. “Well, that’s cause that redbird wasn’t talking redbird talk. He was talking English.”

“English!” said Alvin, incredulous.

“With a really thick redbird accent,” said Arthur. And this time all three of them laughed together.