The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
Are you afraid of me?
She asks this after a clear and concise attempt at his test phrase. There is a little raise to his hackles, as much as admitting he heard and understood her just fine. It was remarkable, even if she had slurred a little on her words. She had not been studying with him very long and already she had learned enough grammar and pronunciation to establish a… less than gibberish sentence.
He allows only a little expression of approving her, only a little expression of his being impressed, and then it is back to teaching and correcting her where she had fumbled with a word or syntax. "Emmon.""No." he replies back in response to her question. “There is little that frightens me, young one. I have faced assassins and fought battles. You are but a growing youth. You are no jackal army, nor are you an adder’s bite.” But she sits beside him and he continues, “I can say that I respect your learning, your intentions, but I cannot admit to fearing you.”
He sits after he finishes, collecting his haunches beneath him so that his posture is perfect. He is tempted to make her sit as he does, but has taken the hint that lessons were going to be put aside for now. “You would prefer I fear you?”
|
