“How in hells do you remember all that?”

“It’s just like any other language. It’s logical, it has a known structure, and it really is very useful. Now, does that give you enough for your purposes?”

“Well, it’s a start. It’s a pity all scientists couldn’t be as clear as you—I was trying to follow some papers by someone called Soza and it was like trying to read a ball of tangled string.”

His companion didn’t look at him as he pulled out another book. “Soza-gidu is one of our finest researchers. He’s used to dealing with people of a similar background and training. He doesn’t write for the layman.”

“I didn’t mean any offence.”

“None taken,” he said coolly. “Now, this book here may illustrate what I was talking about....”

For the next hour, Romi had the mysteries of plant classification patiently explained to him. By the end of it, he had a headache. Not that it was his young teacher’s fault—the man had a remarkably clear way of expressing himself. Romi found himself wondering what he did in the academy—he had the slight drawl of the Prijian upper class, but was dressed as simply as any Darshianese. With the braid and the beard, it made his appearance rather difficult to decode.

He finally realised he had to stop. “I’m sorry, but I have to be back at my barracks by noon. Thank you for your assistance.”

“You’re welcome. I hope your investigation is carried forward. I have to be going myself. Can you find your own way out?”