Her pronunciation is admirable for her first time speaking the language, enough to get a bit of an approving nod. Saval has a knack for imitating people and getting that sort of thing right as well, which is why the few words of English that he does know are spoken with a flawless British accent.

He's not sure why she picked out that particular word, nor how to explain the meaning, as it's a little more of an abstract concept. As he's pondering how to respond, there's a rustling in the bushes nearby, and a smallish man with more delicate points to his ears steps out, carrying a woodcutting axe. Saval resists the urge to facepalm.

"It means 'friends' or 'associates,'" says Vorik, saluting her in greeting. "Who are you?"

As expressionless as Saval has been until this point, that eyeroll is certainly noticeable. "Mishek," he says, addressing Vorik frostily by title, "surely you have better things to be doing right now than showing off?"

"Well, you don't know how to talk to her," Vorik points out. "It would make more sense to let me take over. How many does she have with her?"