"Andaran atish'an," she repeated, picking up the accent again. "Aneth ara." The syntax, alien though it was, made perfect sense. The rules of language were the rules of language, no matter where you were. It was entirely possible that Ariadne had it in her to recover the lost language.

But she decided not to offer. Not right now, anyway. There was only so much of her hand she would show at once.

And besides, it felt like an invasion of privacy somehow.

"I like the rhythm of the language," she commented instead. "There's a lyrical component of it. Like the Elf language back home."