Foreign Language
Nalla fishes out a phone from his pocket, the moment I – unbelievably, stupidly – agree to leave with him – a jötun, though currently in a more civilised guise. Then, after excusing himself politely to present company, but without putting me down, he contacts… someone who speaks with him in a tongue that is untranslatable by Allspeak.
I tense up. – What is he talking about? To whom? Why can I not understand the language? Is he planning something about me? Is he going to harm me the moment Emilia and Atlanta are not present?
He stares contemplatively at me, after the phone call, and does not seem to be eager to return to the cluster of chairs surrounding a small, low table that make up the living room of this rented place. He even cards his fingers through my hair again, in an unmistakably motherly air, and it only makes me more unnerved, not to mention confused.
And then, rather unexpectedly, and in a language I can understand, he explains where we are going and how we will travel to get there.
Is he not worried that I will have time and chance to escape, with that knowledge and timeframe in mind?