Sonder sat in thought.
Which word, or words, should she try and teach Aest?
There were not many to choose from. The Dico words she knew were few. And they could be dangerous. Very much so.
One, in particular, existed only to destroy.
She pushed that thought aside immediately. It had no place here.
She needed something simple.
Her gaze drifted to the table. To the bowl, the cutlery lay neatly beside it and lingered there. Mundane things. Safe things. That was needed.
"If we're going to try anything," she said at last, "it needs to be harmless. Something that can't do much on its own."
"Anything's fine with me," Aest replied.
"There's a word," she went on. "It's just for pulling something. It was the first one I ever learned. I don't think it can be used to tear or break. If something can move without being damaged, that's the word for it."
"That sounds manageable," he said. "What's it called? Or what's the word? Whatever makes sense in this case."
"It's 'Jol'."
Aest repeated it carefully. "Jol."
He waited anyway, shoulders tensing, half-expecting something to come flying toward him. After a moment, he frowned. "When does the magic happen?"
Sonder shook her head. "With Dico, it's not just about saying the word. You have to mean it. You have to believe in what the word does. You can't just say an incantation and expect something to happen."
"That's vague," Aest said, but there was no complaint in his voice, only curiosity.
"That's just how it works."
"Or just how you know it to work," he raised a point. "Well, if we're going to try something strange and possibly dangerous, I'd rather not do it inside my home. The wind's settled. So, let's go outside."
He glanced toward the door and nodded towards it.
Sonder listened. The quiet whistling she had heard and gotten used to was gone.
"There's plenty of space," Aest continued. "Nothing fragile. And if something goes wrong, it won't knock over my shelves."
Aest grabbed a few things from his precious shelves, non-fragile things that could be thrown around, and went outside, with the featherling on his shoulder.
Sonder, with her staff in hand, felt like she was a teacher, teaching an eager apprentice the first basics of magic.
Not that it reminded her of herself a long time ago when Vell also first taught her, but there was a sort of nostalgia; a pleasant feeling of the past that she longed for, when things were simpler and she had him with her.