“Yes, though I’m afraid I’m not very good at it,” said Lovisa, who was excellent at it.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your Lingian is better than my Keepish,” said the pale, dark-bearded man across the table from Lovisa, politely. His name was Giddon, and he was working hard to be attentive. Every time he spoke, he seemed to pull the Keepish words out from a deep, dark well. Lovisa wondered if he was one of the people who’d jumped into the ocean looking for the queen.

“We could all use some Lingian practice, I’m sure,” said Mara, switching into Lingian.

To Lovisa’s astonishment, Giddon was suddenly blinking back tears. “You’re very kind,” he said.

The Graceling girl spoke then, with a randomness that made Lovisa think she was trying to distract them from her crying friend. “We’re curious about the relationship between humans and silbercows,” she said, continuing in Lingian. “Are these lamps burning silbercow oil?”

“Ah, yes,” said Benni pleasantly. “If you don’t know the nature of our relationship with our silbercows, it might seem odd. When a Keepish person dies, we bury them at sea, which is traditionally considered to be an offering to the silbercows, since glassfish eat human bodies, and silbercows eat glassfish. Similarly, when a silbercow dies, its family brings its body to land and presents it as an offering to humans. And though humans don’t eat silbercow bodies or use their hides, we do use their oil, for it makes the finest golden light in Torla. It’s highly regulated, though, and very rare. Very expensive. I believe you import the tiniest amount to Monsea. We burn it in our lamps today to do you honor, and to express our sympathy for your loss.”

Lovisa wondered how the Monseans felt, now that they were imagining glassfish eating their queen’s body. She thought Benni might’ve found a way around planting that image in their heads. “Do you know our fairy tales?” she said, to distract them further. “About the Keeper, the hero who lives in the ocean and defends the planet, supposedly? The stories come from the silbercows. The Keeper is their hero, really.”

“Is Winterkeep named after the Keeper?” said Giddon.

“Doubtful,” said Benni.

“But of course it is,” said Quona Varana smartly, leaning in from several places away.

“Respectfully, Quona,” said Benni, “many nations refer to their fortress or their safe place as a keep.”

“Yet we don’t have a fortress here in Winterkeep,” said Quona. “Our Keep is no more than a castle, sitting beside a school. And our careful, balanced relationship with the sea, the animals, and our natural resources is what defends us from self-destruction.”

“What a conscientious Scholar you are,” Benni said, with a sharpness that startled Lovisa. Benni was not usually sarcastic to guests, even ones with visible cat hair streaking their gowns.