Page 175 of Salt Between the Wolves

"Most of it."

Eira stared at him.

Another merchant called something from across the dock, and this time the language sounded entirely different.

Leander answered again with the same ease, without hesitation or visible effort, as naturally as breathing.

The merchant waved, and Leander waved back.

Eira narrowed her eyes.

"How many languages do you speak?"

For the first time all day, he looked uncomfortable, which struck her as a deeply suspicious reaction.

"Enough."

"That's not a number."

"No."

"It's also not an answer."

"It was the answer I intended to give."

Eira folded her arms while Leander sighed in a way that suggested this conversation had happened many times before.

"Five fluently."

Eira blinked.

"Five."

"Possibly six."

"Possibly?"

"The sixth argues with me."

Despite herself, she laughed.

Around them, the harbor stretched in every direction as ships creaked against their moorings, gulls circled overhead, and voices from half a dozen nations drifted across the docks.

For the first time since arriving in Silverwake, Eira truly understood what the city was.

It was not a settlement, a fortress, or even a kingdom, but a crossroads where the world came to meet itself.

They had barely gone another hundred steps when a familiar smell drifted through the harbor, carrying with it the scent of warm bread, butter, smoke, and something richer that made Eira glance around despite herself.

The reaction did not escape Leander, which was unfortunate.

"No."

Eira frowned.

"No what?"

"No, I will not pretend you aren't curious."