"Zylas, too."
"Yes."
"And Ialin…?"
"Yes," Falima repeated, as if Collins had spoken the third name in the same tone as the others rather than in question.
Collins smiled. "What do I have to do to get you to use more than one syllable?"
Falima tapped her balled hands on the tablet op. "Try asking a question where the answer isn't obvious." She also smiled, apparently to show she meant no malice.
"All right." Collins leaned toward her and addressed his mood. "Are we really safe here?" Falima's grin broadened. "Yes."
As Falima returned to her ubiquitous monosyllable, Collins groaned. "All right, then. Let's put this in the form of an essay." He cleared his throat. "Do you believe we're really safe from Barakhain guards here? Why or why not?"
Though Falima could not have understood the reference, she laughed. It was a surprisingly loud sound, full of joie de vivre and mirth, nothing like the dainty bell-like twitters Marlys loosed when she deigned to enjoy one of his jokes. "As safe as we can be for the moment, I guess. Vernon has a web throughout the durithrin community. If the guards remained in or returned to the area, they would tell him."
That explained why Vernon spoke so freely in the forest as well as in his cabin.
Korfius smacked his jowls a few times, then sighed deeply.
Collins jerked his attention to the dog. "Do you think he understands any of this?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
Collins forced his attention from the dog to Falima. "Positive?"
"Yes."
Realizing he had cornered Falima into monosyllables yet again, Collins placed the onus on her. "How can you be so sure?"
Falima slouched. The candle struck red-and-purple highlights in hair otherwise dark as shadow. "Horses are senior guards, dogs junior. I spent my last twelve years working over dogs. He's too young for much overlap, even if he had put most of his effort into it. But he's clearly…" The last word, though apparently enunciated, did not translate.
Collins placed the rose quartz on the table, deliberately removing his hand. "Clearly what?"
"Lesariat," Falima repeated dutifully. She inclined her head toward the translation stone, and Collins placed his palm squarely over it. "Zylas really trusts you."
"He honors me more than I deserve."
Falima did not argue that point. "I knew him almost ten years before he let me use it." She turned Collins a telling look. "Now, thanks to you, it'll probably be another ten before he lets me touch it again. If ever."
Collins felt his cheeks warm. "Sorry." He directed the conversation back to its previous point. "What is this lesar… lesar… rat?"
"Lesariat." This time, the stone allowed the foreign word through without attempting translation. "It's a… a… state of mind… of being." Falima sighed, struggling. "The masuniat find their animal form an inconvenient interruption. Most don't bother to seek balance or overlap. They live from human time to human time. Some leave themselves notes to allow them to take up exactly where they left off. It's more common in Randoms. The Regular masuniat often take herbs at coming-of-age to shorten switch time."
Worried about getting hopelessly lost, Collins tried to clarify. "All right. So the masuniat try to spend less time as animals and more time as humans."
"Right. The Regular masuniat," Falima reminded. "The more successful the herbs, the more like Randoms they become, at least in terms of switch time. Fulfillment would mean they spend exactly half their time human, like Randoms."
"And you?" Collins looked pointedly at Falima, who lowered her head.
"You know, don't you?"
"Yeah, and I'm not quite sure why you lied to me." Worried that he'd never understand Korfius, he reluctantly dropped the matter. "But first, lesariat."
"Getting to that," Falima promised. "The herbs have side effects that limit their use. They can cause bellyaches, rashes, vomiting. Even coma or death. They also lessen overlap. So it's a balancing act."
"I'd say so." Collins could think of nothing short of cancer that would make him take anything so toxic.
"The winariat accept the change as a natural part of life. They tend to have the best overlap, though that partially depends on philosophy. Some truly believe it more innate to act as animal as possible in switch-form and as human as possible in human form."
Collins saw the direction Falima appeared to be taking. "So the lesariat must prefer… their animal form?"
"Exactly." Falima beamed at him. "Most have no interest at all in overlap, or they even reverse it. They may bring more habits from their switch-form to their human form. And they take herbs to lengthen their animal time."
Things started to come together. "So Korfius drools. And looks for food all the time."
Falima chuckled. "Exactly. It also helps that I smell the lesariat herb on him."
Collins had completely missed that. "What does it smell like?"
"It's… distinctive." Falima's lips twisted, then returned to normal. She shook her head. "Ever try to describe a smell?"
Collins bobbed his head and opened his hands in concession. Without a comparison, it could become almost impossible, like taste. For the first time, he realized why so many meats got compared to chicken. It seemed simpler to whiff at their companion sometime after the switch. He studied Falima. The candlelight sparked from her golden skin, revealing smears of grime. Her pale eyes watched him back, striking in their color and depth. Though a bit large, her nose suited her, and the curtain of jet black hair gave her an air of foreign mystery. Though not classically beautiful, she drew his gaze in a way he could not quite explain. He could enjoy staring at that face every morning over the breakfast table, even rumpled, coarsened, and travel weary, for eternity.
Falima broke the spell. "Is it normal where you come from to gawk?"
As usual, Collins groped for humor; but the words that left his mouth surprised even him. "Only when there's something this pretty to gawk at."
"Me?" Falima asked incredulously.
"Of course not," Collins said facetiously. "I meant the gorgeous woman standing behind you."
Falima tensed as if to glance around, then relaxed. "Thank you. But there's no need to lie. I know I'm not… attractive."
Stunned, Collins turned defensive. "Of course you're attractive. Where I come from, men would fight over you."
"They would?"
"Yes."
"In human form? Or horse?"
"Human," Collins replied, then added, "In horse form, the girls would fight over you."
Falima blinked several times, obviously confused. "The girls? Why?"
Collins considered briefly. "Because, where I come from, it's almost like a law. Pretty much all girls love horses at some point in their lives. Sometimes forever." He leaned toward Falima. "That's not to say boys and men don't like horses, too. Just not so… almost universally."
"Love to…" Falima fidgeted, looking at her hands, "… eat them?"
"Horses?" Collins shook his head vigorously. "Yuck, never. We don't eat horses where I come from." He had heard people in other countries did, but he saw no reason to get technical.
"But you eat animals."
"Not horses." Collins crinkled his face and shook his head again. He caught sight of Korfius at the corner of his vision. "Or dogs. Or mice, hummingbirds, rats…" The latter made him think of the television show Survivor, but he did not voice it. There seemed no reason to complicate matters more than already necessary.
"What do you eat?"
Collins spoke slowly, watching Falima's reaction as he spoke each word. "Cows."
Falima winced but continued looking at him encouragingly.
"Pigs, chickens, turkey, and fish."
"Fish aren't animals."
"They are where I come from."
"Oh."
An uncomfortable pause followed.
"What else?" Falima finally said.
"That takes care of about 99.9% of all the meat eaten in the United States." Collins knew he had to mention rabbits for her to believe him. "The rest is what we call game, which you would call durithrin or wildones. Rabbits, deer, ducks, geese. A few people do bear, squirrel, turtles, possum, snakes, stuff like that. But most people wouldn't consider those animals savory or, in many cases, even edible." He recalled the time one of the international students had brought a tomato-based stew to a potluck that everyone ate with relish, until a rumor circulated that the meat they had sucked down with gusto moments before was actually cat. The ladle never again dipped into that bowl.