I think it best to start with books. The written word is concrete. I cannot forget it and my ears cannot confuse it as long as it is on the page in front of me. When I ask Henryka and Zofia, the morning after the billiard game, they are confused.

"There is a library... but Mariusz has books of his own. Mariusz has more interesting books. In the library, it is mostly histories and records. And dictionaries."

"We can start with a dictionary. Where is the library?"

It is on the bottom floor of the palace, in the north wing, overlooking a carefully manufactured wilderness of garden currently drenched in rain. It is not very large, just big enough for a couple of tables and some chairs, but the walls are lined with books from floor to ceiling. At this time of day and in this weather, it is dark, silent and chill. As soon as we arrive, Zofia starts shivering dramatically.

I ignore her and start examining the nearest shelf. The first book I pull out is labelled in gilt: 1845-49. I flip it open. A densely printed page greets me. The next page is covered in tables of figures.

"What is this?"

Henryka peers at it. She frowns, takes it from me, flips through the pages, and reads the title-page.

"Agricultural product and tax records by district."

I put it back with a sigh. "Where are the dictionaries?"

It takes the girls some time to find them. While they search, I browse other books in the shelves. As Henryka said, they mostly appear to be official records or journals. There must be other places in the palace that have better books. Mariusz is always reading something when we are alone in our apartment.

"Here," Zofia says. "I found one."

"Put it on the table."

She lugs it to the table and lets it slam down. It looks very old, with fraying corners. When I open it, dust clouds the air. Zofia sneezes.

I flip through the pages. The letters are blocky and strange. At first I think it is just the print, but then I notice some letters that are not Latin at all.

"What is this?" I ask. "This isn't Selician."

Henryka comes closer. "Ah, that's Old Selician. It was written in Cyrillic until the Catholic reform."

"Can you read it?"

She squints. "A little... Not much."

"Aren't there any other dictionaries? Newer dictionaries?"

The girls go in search again. This time, Henryka finds a small modern dictionary. I scan the first few words. "Abak... what's that?"

"To count with," Zofia says. "With beads."

When will I ever need to say that?

"And acekoli?"

Henryka confused. She peers over my shoulder. "Oh! Ačekoli!" She says it quite differently to how I do. "Hm, it is like... but?"

"Though," Zofia says. "More like though."

"I'm not quite sure of the French translation," Henryka says.

"It can't be a very important word. Is there any word on this page I should know?" I ask. "I need to learn."

Henryka takes the book and flips through, frowning. "They are all important... it depends what you want to say."

"Everything!"

"But you should begin with the most important... Byti, perhaps." She flips the pages. "Here. It means to be."

Byti's entry takes up two-and-a-half columns in very fine print.

"Perhaps a dictionary isn't the right way to learn." I sigh and sit down in one of the chairs. "How can I learn to speak it? Teach me something."

"Teach you what?" Zofia says. "There is so much."

"Start somewhere." I point outside. "What's rain?"

"Dožd. Pada dožd. It is raining."

I attempt to repeat it. Zofia smirks. "No, dožd."

No matter how I try, I cannot make the sound. Henryka repeats it several times, more earnestly, but Zofia just looks amused. Eventually I give up.

"Oh, forget about it. Teach me something else. Another word. Something easier."

From out of the depths of the library, a voice says, "Dožd. The end sound is like, hm, the sound between the words in the phrase shush child. Not quite the same, but similar. It does not exist in your language, so your ear is not used to it and cannot hear the shades of difference."

We all jump. I turn and for the first time notice that curtains on the wall, which I thought were covering a window, must in fact be hiding a doorway. I get up and drag them open. Beyond is a small reading annex, lit by a single candle. Prince Konrad sits with his legs up on the reading bench, a book in his lap and a pen in his hand.

"What are you doing listening to us?" I demand in Rothalian.

"I could hardly avoid it. I was here when you came in."

"You might have said something."

"I thought you would go away without noticing me." He inclines his head slightly to Henryka and Zofia. "Dobro jutro."

That, at least, I recognize as good morning.

"Then I became interested in your conversation," Konrad adds. "It is commendable for you to try to learn. It is a difficult language."

"It is impossible."

"Your uncle learned it. Of course, he would have had very good tutors. I am afraid, with Henryka and Zofia, you will find it hard. Mariusz would be a better help."

"He doesn't want to teach me."

Konrad raises one dark, elegant eyebrow. "Really?"

I sense criticism in his tone. "He speaks my language to me. So, it becomes our language."

"By that logic, it is our language too, yours and mine."

I feel my cheeks heat. "Perhaps we should speak French?" I say in the language.

"I would rather not," he continues in Rothalian. "It is home to neither of us. At least one of us should feel at home when we are together, surely?"

"Then I must learn Selician," I say stubbornly in French.

"Then you must find someone to teach you," Konrad counters in Rothalian with a smile. "If my cousin will not, perhaps I might offer my services?"

I hesitate. Konrad is perhaps the only person here who has been kind to me since I arrived. Perhaps I should be grateful, but I am only suspicious. "Why would you want to?"

"Frankly, it would give me something to do." He sighs and shows me his book, filled with crossed out half-lines and words. "My muse has abandoned me. If I distract myself with other tasks, perhaps she will return. And I have nothing else to distract myself with at present."

"Not your wife or child?"

"There is no poetry in Irena. And only the odd nursery rhyme in Florian."

"There is no poetry in me either."

"No. But there is distraction." He sighs, and the flame of his candle flickers. "Never mind. It is selfish of me to use you for distraction. You must ask Mariusz to hire a tutor for you. I believe Countess Celina speaks your language well enough to help with the basics. That it is all that is needed, really. Once you have a little grasp, you will be able to teach yourself."

I can just imagine the smug look on Celina's face if I asked her to help me. "How much of a grasp? How many lessons would I need?"

"It depends how good you are with languages. I think most people could learn the basics of Selician in a month if they really tried."

"And how long would it take for your muse to return? Less than a month?"

Prince Konrad smiles. "It normally takes about a month, actually."

"I would rather you than Countess Celina. We can trade favours. I will distract you. You will teach me."

"Well." Prince Konrad looks pleased. "We will do it here. Each morning from ten through one, I think. That will give us enough time to practice quite a lot as well. Does that suit you?"

"Perfectly." I look at Zofia and Henryka, who have been watching our conversation in silent confusion. Henryka is frowning, perhaps trying to figure out what we are saying. I don't want them to know. I want to learn the language in secret and surprise everyone. Particularly Mariusz. "Let's start tomorrow. Without the girls. They will only get in the way."

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2024-05-12: Sorry about the delay in updates. I've had a lot of real world deadlines lately. Thankfully, the very last of them is over this Friday so I'll be able to get back to more regular postings.