‘Naeg,’ she spoke to the boy. ‘You don't speak Gaellic, you speak your mind. The language is infallible, uncorruptible. Dinna think you speak Gaellic when you speak Hatred. That's a horse of a different color.’
‘Dinna fash,’ he says, as if he fashioned the language. She looked at the young man before her. ‘You have much to learn.’