who tapped a staccato rhythm on his leg.
No.1 's eyes were drawn to the second human's hair. There were at least half a dozen colours in there. The man was a peacock.
No.1 decided that perhaps he should raise his empty hands, to show that he wasn't carrying a weapon, but it's difficult to do that when you are tied to a chair.
'I'm tied to a chair,' he said apologetically, as though it was his fault.
Unfortunately he said this in Gnommish and in the demon dialect. To the humans it sounded like he was trying to dislodge a particularly annoying blockage from his throat.
No.1 resolved not to talk again. Doubtless he would say the wrong thing and the humans would have to ritually execute him. Thankfully the female seemed eager to chat.
'Hello, I am Minerva Paradizo and this man is Mister Kong,' she said.
'Can you understand me?'
It was all gibberish to No.1. Not a single recognizable word from the text of Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow.
He smiled encouragingly, to show he appreciated the effort.
'Do you speak French?' asked the blonde girl, then switched languages.
'How about English?'
No.1 sat up. That last bit was familiar. Strange inflections, surely, but the words themselves were from the book.
'English?' he repeated.
This was the language of Lady Heatherington Smythe. Learned at her mother's knee. Explored in the lecture halls of Oxford. Used to profess her undying love for Professor Rupert Smythe. No.1 loved the book. He sometimes believed that he was the only one who did. Even Abbot didn't seem to appreciate the romantic bits.
'Yes,' said Minerva. 'English. The last one spoke it well enough. French too.'
Manners must be appreciated somewhere outside a book, No.1 had always thought, so he decided to give them a go.
He growled, which was the polite demon way of asking to speak in front of your betters. This must not be how humans interpreted it because the skinny human jumped to his feet, pulling out a knife.
'No, kind sir,' said No.1, hurriedly cobbling together a couple of sentences from Lady Heatherington. 'Prithee sheath thine weapon. I bring joyous tidings only.'
The skinny human was confounded. He spoke English as well as the next American, but this little runt was spouting some kind of medieval nonsense.
Kong straddled No.1, holding the knife to his throat.
'Talk straight, ugly,' said the man, deciding to give Taiwanese a go.
'I wish I could understand,' said No.1, shaking. Unfortunately he said this in Gnommish. 'What I… eh. . meanest to say is…'
It was no good. Quotes from Lady Heatherington that he could generally shoehorn into any occasion just weren't coming under pressure.
'Talk straight or die!' shrieked the human into his face.
No.1 shrieked right back at him. 'How can I talk straight, you son of a three-legged dog? I don't speak Taiwanese!'
All of this was said in perfect Taiwanese. No.1 was stunned. The gift of tongues was not one demons possessed. Except the warlocks. More proof.
He intended to ponder this development for a few moments, now that the knife-wielding human had backed off, but suddenly the beauty of language exploded inside his brain. Even his own tongue, Gnommish, had been severely culled by the demons. There were thousands of words that had dropped from regular use on the basis that they did not relate to killing things or eating them, and not necessarily in that order.
'Cappuccino!' shouted No.1, surprising everyone.
'Excuse me?' said Minerva.
'What a lovely word. And manoeuvre. And balloon.'
The skinny man pocketed his knife. 'Now he's talking. If he's anything like the videos you showed me of the other one, we'll never get him to shut up.'
'Pink!' exclaimed No.1 delightedly. 'We don't have a word for that colour in the demon commonspeak. Pink is considered undemonlike, so we ignore it. It's such a relief to be able to say pink!'
'Pink,' said Minerva. 'Fabulous.'
'Tell me,' said No.1. 'What is a candyfloss? I know the words, and it sounds. . scrumptious. . but the picture in my head cannot be accurate.'
The girl seemed pleased that No.1 could talk, but slightly miffed that he had forgotten his situation.
'We can talk about candyfloss later, little demon. There are more important things to discuss.'
'Yes,' agreed Kong. 'The demon invasion, for example.'
No.1 rolled the sentence round in his head. 'Sorry, my gifts must not be fully developed. The only meaning I have for invasion is a hostile entry of an armed force into a territory.'
'That's the one I mean, you little toad.'
'Again, I'm a little confused. My new vocabulary is telling me that a toad is a froglike creature. .' No.1 's face fell. 'Oh, I see — you're insulting me.'
Kong scowled at Minerva. 'I think I preferred him when he spoke like an old movie.'
'I was quoting scripture,' explained No.1, enjoying the shape of these new words in his mouth. 'From the sacred book: Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow.'
Minerva frowned, looking at the ceiling as she thought back in time.
'Lady Heatherington Smythe. Why is that familiar?'
'Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow is the source of all our human knowledge. Lord Abbot brought it back to us.' No.1 bit his lip, shutting off his own babbling. He had said too much already. These humans were the enemy, and he had given them the blueprint to Abbot's plans.
Blueprint. Nice word.
Minerva clapped her hands once, sharply. She had found the memory she was looking for.
'Lady Heatherington Smythe. My goodness, that ridiculous romance!
Remember, Mister Kong?'
Kong shrugged. 'I don't read fiction. Manuals, mostly.'
'No, remember the video footage of the other demon. We let him have a book, he carried it around like a security blanket.'
'Ah, yes. I remember that. Stupid little goat. Always toting around that stupid book.'
'You know, you're repeating yourself,' said No.1, wittering nervously.
'There are other words for stupid. Dim, dense, slow, thick. Just to name a few. I can do Taiwanese if you prefer.'
A knife appeared in Kong's hand as if from nowhere.
'Wow,' said No.1. 'That's a real talent. A bravura in fact.'
Kong ignored the compliment, flipping the knife so he was holding the blade.
'Just shut up, creature. Or this goes between your eyes. I don't care how valuable you are to Miss Paradizo. To me, you and your kind are simply something to be wiped off the face of the Earth.'
Minerva folded her arms.
'I will thank you, Mister Kong, not to threaten our guest.
You work for my father, and you will do what my father tells you to do.
And I am pretty sure my father told you to keep a civil tongue in your head.'
Minerva Paradizo may have been a precocious talent in many areas, but because of her age, she had limited experience. From her studies, she knew how to read body language, but she did not know that a skilled martial artist can train himself to control his body, so that his real feelings are hidden. A true disciple of the discipline would have noted the subtle tightening of the tendons in Billy Kong's neck. This was a man holding himself in check.
Not yet, his stance said. Not yet.
