“No, but that was when we first brought it in. And you will remember it bit me only when it thought I was hurting the female.” She turned to Kerrick. “Will you try to injure me again?”

“Never. You are my teacher. I know if I speak well you will reward me with food and not hurt me.”

“I marvel that an ustuzou can talk—but it is still a wild creature and must be secured.” Stallan was adamant. “Vaintè put it in my charge and I will obey my orders.”

“Obey them, but bend them a slight amount. Free its legs at least. It will make talking easier.”

In the end Stallan reluctantly agreed and that day Kerrick worked especially hard, knowing that his secret plan had moved ahead just that single step.

There was no way to count the days, nor did Kerrick particularly care how much time had passed. When he had been in the north, with his sammad, winter and summer had been markedly different and it had been important to know the time of year for the hunting. But here, in the endless heat, the passage of time did not matter. Sometimes rain would drum on the transparent skin above the room, while at other times it would be darkened by clouds. Kerrick knew only that a long time had passed since Ysel’s death, when there was an interruption to their daily lesson. The rattle of the outside lock drew the attention of both of them so that they turned to look when the door swung open. Kerrick welcomed the novel event until Vaintè entered.

Although the murgu were very similiar one to the other he had learned to notice differences. And Vaintè was one creature whom he would never forget. He automatically signaled submission and respect as she stamped across the floor towards them, was pleased to see that she was in a good mood as well.

“You have done well in your animal-training, Enge. There are stupid fargi out there that do not respond as clearly or as quickly as this one. Make it speak again.”

“You may converse with it yourself.”

“Can I? I don’t believe it. Why it is like giving instructions to a boat and having it answer you back.” She turned to Kerrick and said clearly. “Go left, boat, go left.”

“I am not a boat, but I can go left.”

He walked slowly about the room while Vaintè expressed disbelief and pleasure in equal portions.

“Stand before me. Tell me the name you have been given.”

“Kerrick.”

“That means nothing. You are a ustuzou so you cannot say it correctly. It must be said this way, Ekerik.”

Vaintè could not realize that it was the sounds alone that made up his name. She added the physical modifiers so that in its entirety it signified slow-stupid. Kerrick could not have cared less.

“Ekerik,” he said, then again with the modifiers, “Slow-stupid.”