Page 62 of Dearest Beast
He leaned over her shoulder once more. “The Way of Mathematicsby Anthrakites,” he told her, then reciting the title once more. In Greek.
All she could do was stare. “You read Greek?”
“Yes,” he said simply, as if it were usual, even among his class. “Along with Latin, French, German, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, and a little Russian—though I’m trying to improve. Besides English, of course,” he explained. “I’ve been meaning to start both Turkish and Arabic, but I’ve been a touch busy.”
Rebecca gaped once more. Even among their people, who’d populated the world’s ports for centuries and who could often speak at least a dozen languages, reading more than the location’s vernacular plus Hebrew and Aramaic for Talmud study was not common. “That’s more languages than…”
“You?” he asked, giving her a lopsided grin.
“Most certainly,” she said, shaking her head. “I only read English, Hebrew, Yiddish, German, and French—the latter for their scholarly materials in the sciences.” Impressive, but he was… A thought occurred to her. Frowning, she glanced back at him. “You read Hebrew as well, don’t you?”
It was possible he didn’t. In their zeal to be tolerated by, and more, permitted to receive benefits from gentile society, more and more of their community members devoted the time they’d have used for their own study and traditions to learning to mimic those of the favored.
Isabelle, for example, as bright as she was, knew her prayers from either oral memory or a transliterated prayer book. Sol was the same. Though as of late, he’d taken it upon himself to learn more, starting with his letters, in the hope of one day reading.
It was slow going, or so she’d heard, and thus she’d not be surprised if that was the case here. That would be a shame.
“Naturally.” There was an odd tone to his voice. Though before she could ponder it more, he cleared his throat. “But going back to yours… that’s five, which is quite puny compared to my ten,” he pointed out, his grin widening once more.
“I didn’t know we were in a competition,” she told him, though she couldn’t quite muster consternation.
“I’ve surprised you,” he said, rather proudly. As if that had been some sort of goal. Though perhaps it was, as it occurred rather infrequently.
“Yes,” she admitted. “Though, despite what you implied earlier, I did recognize that you weren’t unintelligent, no matter how irritating you could be, but…” And a thought occurred to her. She turned back to him. “The books that were left in my room…”
“Recent acquisitions I enjoyed,” he explained, narrowing his eyes. “Who did you surmise selected them?”
“Isabelle,” she admitted, oddly sheepish even if her reasoning had been quite sound.
“She enjoys poetry?” the man asked, surprise in his tone.
At that she nearly laughed. “She enjoys military strategy,” Rebecca told him, smiling to herself. Her friend was… unique. And utterly delightful. A lump formed in her throat. And she truly missed her.
Inhaling, she pushed the unbidden emotion to the side and returned to the conversation.
“But she also knows me and my tastes,” she told him.
“Which appear to be similar to mine.” His eyes twinkled with amusement in the dim light. “At least in certain areas. How horrifying,” he teased.
“For you or for me?” she couldn’t help but return.
“Perhaps I just recognize quality,” he told her with a grin.
Suddenly, the room was quite hot.
Turning her back to him, she wandered to a table, reaching out totouch an open copy of a botanical text titledHistoria Naturalis Palmarum, by someone named Von Martius. Latin. With a neat, handwritten English translation in the margins as well as what appeared to be additional commentary.
“This is your work.” She stared at the man she’d once believed was a brainless fop.
“Oh, yes. I meant to finish that but became distracted.” Ducking his head, he rubbed the back of his neck, as if he was somehow embarrassed.
“You should be a scholar,” she whispered as she scanned the pages. “Imagine what you could do with Talmud.”
The man gave a derisive snort. Rebecca’s back stiffened at the sound. This was his heritage. What their ancestors risked their very lives to protect. What made both of them who they were. How could he treat it so dismissively?
A nasty retort sat on her tongue ready to burst forth, but somehow she managed to pause. After all, it wouldn’t convince him of her point, not to mention, it would not inspire him to, well, not continue to waste his abilities. Not that she was likely to convince him, and yet…
“You have the mind for it,” she said instead, glancing back down at the pages.
