Fate of the Argosi by Sebastien de Castell

Author:Sebastien de Castell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hot Key Books

21

Attention

Trying to convince a bunch of kids to sit quietly and listen to a Jan’Tep delegation droning on about some theoretical homeland nobody’s ever seen while a mystical galleon that can sail across any landscape sits half buried outside . . . well, such a task called for my best arta loquit.

‘Everybody shut the hells up!’

Conch leaped two feet in the air, landing with his belly inflated and serving up an indignant glare so I’d know how perilously close I’d come to a well-deserved belching.

‘Sorry, little buddy,’ I whispered to him. ‘Had to make an impression on these kids.’

A clearly unimpressed snort was followed by him turning tail and trotting outside the barracks to go swap Ferius-is-an-uncouth-brute stories with Quadlopo. Pretty sure he farted at me before he left. As for the runaways upon whose shoulders would rest a decision that would determine the future of the Mahdek, they just sort of froze.

Now, I get why, to an untrained observer, ‘Shut the hells up!’ might not seem the most eloquent of responses to their incessant questions, fidgeting and utter failure to stop trying to crane their necks past me, Chedran, Arissa, Ala’tris and her crew to peer out the door of the barracks to catch one more glance of the spellship. But there’s more to arta loquit than words, and not all shouts are made equal. Mine employed a variety of vocal techniques I’d learned from Enna (who’d mastered them in the perpetual pursuit of getting Durral to shut up once in a while). My pitch was carefully tuned to be neither so high as to sound screechy and desperate nor so low a rumble that it might frighten the young ones. I’d kept the grit out but also dropped the softness of the frontier drawl I’d picked up from Durral. My diction had been over-precise, turning each syllable into its own demand for their attention. And all that was just the audible portion of my efforts.

Arta siva, now that’s a different talent. Ask any preacher or politician and they’ll tell you the words are only a fraction of the art of persuasion. The rest is in the eyes, the lips, the movements of your hands, the way you stand and move, whether a little or a lot. Most of all, though, it’s in the heart. To persuade is to open yourself up, find a truth inside you so convincing you believe it yourself. Only then can your arta siva move someone else to agree.

Telling someone to shut up is hardly any different than slapping them in the face. I needed them to really listen, to understand that what they were about to hear could change not just their futures, but those of every other Mahdek on this continent. I needed them, even the young ones, to recognise that part of their childhood was about to disappear, and their people needed them to grow up far faster than anyone should have to.

‘We’re listening,’ Kievan said at last. She sat down cross-legged on the floor of the barracks.

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