Morning returned with the same quiet patience it always seemed to have in the cottage.

  Thessa woke before the sun had fully cleared the hills.

  The wind brushed gently along the outside stones. Somewhere downstairs a kettle shifted faintly on the hearth.

  Then she remembered.

  Languages.

  She pushed the quilt aside and sat up.

  The wooden shoes still felt strange when she slipped them on, though slightly less so than the day before. She washed her face quickly at the basin and tucked her journal beneath her arm before heading down the narrow stairs.

  Maerwyn was already awake.

  She stood by the window near the hearth, grinding something in a small stone mortar. The steady scrape of pestle against bowl filled the quiet room.

  “You’re early,” Maerwyn said without looking up.

  Thessa shifted the journal against her chest. “I didn’t want to be late.”

  Maerwyn gave a small nod. “Good habits form quickly when they are fed.”

  They ate another simple breakfast—oats, bread, and a small cup of bitter tea Maerwyn insisted would “clear the mind.” Thessa wasn’t convinced, but she drank it anyway.

  When the meal was finished, Maerwyn wiped her hands on a cloth and gestured toward the stairs.

  “Bring your journal.”

  The upstairs room felt brighter than the day before. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching in the glass jars along the walls. Bundles of herbs hung from wooden hooks near the ceiling, filling the air with a faint earthy scent.

  Thessa took her seat across from Maerwyn at the table.

  She opened the journal and waited.

  Maerwyn folded her hands together.

  “Yesterday,” she began, “we spoke about language as a tool for understanding the world.”

  Thessa nodded quickly.

  “You will learn many tongues in time,” Maerwyn continued. “But we will not begin with the languages of scholars.”

  Thessa blinked. “We won’t?”

  “No.”

  Maerwyn leaned back slightly.

  “We will begin with the languages used by common people.”

  Thessa frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Maerwyn reached into the pocket of her dark dress and removed a small folded scrap of parchment. She placed it on the table and smoothed it flat.

  Drawn across the parchment were several small markings—simple shapes scratched in dark ink.

  A circle.

  A triangle.

  Three small lines beside a doorway.

  They looked almost like careless doodles.

  “What do you see?” Maerwyn asked.

  “Marks,” Thessa said. “Maybe symbols.”

  “Look closer.”

  Thessa leaned forward.

  “They’re… directions?” she guessed.

  “This,” she said, tapping the parchment lightly, “is a fragment of Thieves’ Cant.”

  Thessa’s head lifted.

  “Thieves?”

  “Yes.”

  “But… why would I need to know a thief’s language?”

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  “Knowledge of Thieves’ Cant may prove useful to you one day. And it helps to set a starting point for learning other languages aswell.”

  “And this particular language is not difficult to learn. It was designed to be remembered quickly.”

  Thessa looked down at the simple marks again.

  They really were simple.

  Circles. Lines. Angles.

  Nothing like the complicated flowing script Maerwyn had shown her the day before.

  Thessa snorted quietly. “That’s reassuring.”

  Maerwyn allowed the faintest hint of amusement to cross her face.

  She reached into another pocket and pulled out a second piece of parchment.

  “This,” she said, sliding it across the table, “is Merchant’s Cant.”

  Thessa looked down.

  Unlike the thief symbols, this sheet was filled with normal words but some were underlined, others circled, and small notes were written in the margins.

  “It just looks like writing,” Thessa said.

  “It does,” Maerwyn agreed. “Which is why it works so well.”

  She pointed to a phrase.

  The grain sleeps this season.

  “What do you think that means?” Maerwyn asked.

  Thessa tilted her head.

  “That the harvest was bad?”

  “Close.”

  “It means the price of grain will rise,” Maerwyn said. “Merchants use phrases like this to signal information without announcing it openly.”

  She flipped to a second phrase.

  The river runs thin.

  “Low water?” Thessa guessed.

  “Low supply,” Maerwyn corrected.

  Thessa wrote it down quickly in her journal.

  “This one’s harder,” Thessa said.

  “Yes,” Maerwyn said. “Merchant’s Cant relies more on memory and context. In addition to that it changes from region to region.”

  Maerwyn sat back in her chair.

  “You will begin with Thieves’ Cant first. The symbols, the common phrases, and their meanings. Merchant’s Cant will follow once you understand how hidden language works.”

  Thessa closed her journal halfway and looked across the table.

  “You’ve learned all these?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How many languages do you know?”

  “Enough,” Maerwyn said at last.

  Thessa sighed softly and reopened her journal.

  “Alright,” she muttered. “Teach me the rest of the thief symbols before my brain decides to give up.”

  Maerwyn slid another parchment across the table.

  “That,” she said calmly, “is precisely what we will do.”

  Outside the tall windows, the sun had climbed higher over the hills, pouring warm light into the room.

  Thessa dipped her pen again and began copying the next set of marks.

  By the time the sun had moved halfway across the sky, the first page of her journal was filled with circles, lines, and coded phrases.

  The lesson lasted far longer than Thessa expected.

  At first the symbols seemed simple enough circles for safety, slashes for warning, crossed lines for watchful eyes but the longer Maerwyn explained them, the more layered they became. Placement mattered. Direction mattered. Even the height of a mark on a wall could change its meaning.

  Still, Thessa kept writing.

  Eventually Maerwyn closed the parchment she had been using.

  “That will be enough for today,” she said.

  Thessa blinked, surprised to see how far the sunlight had shifted across the table.

  “Already?”

  “Your mind learns better when it is not overworked.”

  Thessa closed her journal reluctantly.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Thessa helped Maerwyn gather herbs from the small patch behind the cottage and carried water from the narrow well near the treeline.

  Dinner was simple vegetable stew thick with potatoes and carrots, along with a loaf of coarse bread Maerwyn had baked earlier in the day.

  They ate across from one another at the small wooden table.

  Then Maerwyn set down her spoon.

  “Tell me about your village,” she said.

  Thessa looked up, surprised.

  “My village?”

  “Yes.”

  Thessa hesitated for a moment before answering. “There’s not much to tell.”

  Maerwyn waited patiently.

  “It was small,” Thessa continued slowly. “Mostly farmers. A few craftsmen. Everyone knows everyone else.”

  “What did your family do?”

  “My father was a Miller,” Thessa said. “He milled the other villager's wheat and baked bread for the village.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She kept the house, gardened, and cooked.” A faint smile appeared on Thessa’s face. “She made the best apple tarts in the village.”

  Maerwyn nodded slightly, listening.

  “Did you have friends there?” she asked.

  “A few,” Thessa said. “Mostly the other girls my age. Though…” She paused.

  “Though?”

  “I always liked listening to travelers more,” Thessa admitted.

  Maerwyn’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Travelers?”

  “They passed through sometimes. Merchants, messengers, people heading toward the bigger cities.” Thessa shrugged lightly. “They had stories. Places they’d seen. Things beyond the hills.”

  “And that interested you.”

  “Yes.”

  Maerwyn studied her for a moment longer.

  “You were curious even before you came here.”

  Thessa gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. “I suppose so.”

  Maerwyn picked up her spoon again.

  “Curiosity,” she said calmly, "Is good however it can be dangerous.”

  After that maerwyn stood up

  “Clean up the dishes then you're free for the rest of the night.”

  “Have a good night, Miss Maerwyn.” Thessa said

  “You as well.”