Misplaced (11 page)

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Authors: SL Hulen

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“Deri
v
ations?”

Y
es
,
onl
y
e
v
er
y
fourt
h
o
r
fift
h
wor
d
i
s
Arabic
.
Doe
s
i
t
mean
what I think it does?”


Are you asking me?”

“Of course not, I’m asking the archi
v
es.”

Elia
s
twirle
d
on
e
sid
e
o
f
hi
s
mustach
e
curiously
,

Archi
v
es?”

“No
t
i
n
th
e
traditiona
l
sense
;
thi
s
i
s
a
n
open-language
archi
v
e community on the
w
eb. But there’s a twist.”

“Robert,
does
she
or
does
she
not
speak
Arabic?”
Too
late,
she realized how aggressi
v
e she sounded.

“Sh
e
does
.
Bu
t
here’
s
th
e
interestin
g
part
.
Khara’
s
nati
v
e
language
predates
Arabic—by
more
than
a
thousand
y
ears!
As
the
Arabic
language
de
v
eloped,
it
incorporated
existing
words
fro
m
other
,
olde
r
languages
.
Th
e
dialec
t
sh
e
use
s
whe
n
her
guard is down is an early form of Coptic.”

V
ictori
a
an
d
Elia
s
exchange
d
glances
;
Rober
t
too
k
a
deep
breath
.
“Wha
t
I’
m
tryin
g
t
o
explain—an
d
pleas
e
tak
e
int
o
consideratio
n
tha
t
I’
m
no
t
a
historica
l
linguist—i
s
that
,
a
s
far
a
s
I
ca
n
tell
,
Khara’
s
languag
e
ha
s
bee
n
extinc
t
fo
r
thousands
of
y
ears.”

No
one
spoke.
The
sounds
of
clinking
dishes
and
laughter
fro
m
th
e
kitche
n
seeme
d
a
worl
d
a
w
ay
.
V
ictori
a
decide
d
not
t
o
m
enti
o
n
th
e
g
o
l
d
e
n
c
u
f
f
,
o
r
d
ivulg
e
Kh
a
ra

s
ign
o
ran
c
e
o
f
bathtubs or windows.

He
r
uncl
e
stroke
d
hi
s
goate
e
an
d
studie
d
a
self-portrai
t
o
f
an
unsmilin
g
Frid
a
Kahl
o
o
n
th
e
w
al
l
fo
r
wha
t
seeme
d
a
n
eternity,
“The
predicament
of
this
poor
girl—it’s
not your
area
of
expertise,
mija
.
She

ll
do
better
in
the
hands
of
the authorities. Surely you can see that now.”

V
ictoria
asked
Robert,
“What
if
she’s
intentionally
trying
to
confus
e
us
?
Mayb
e
she’
s
livin
g
a
pas
t
life.

Sh
e
looke
d
from
Rober
t
t
o
Elias
.
“I
t
wouldn’
t
b
e
th
e
firs
t
tim
e
somethin
g
like
that’s happened, you know.”

“Which
puts
her
in
the
realm
of
delusional—crazy,
e
v
en,”
Elia
s
adde
d
dr
y
ly
.

T
el
l
her
,
Robert
.
P
erhap
s
m
y
niec
e
will
listen to you.”

“But,
Uncle,
you

re
completely
missing
the
point.
Isn’t
the
r
e
a
l
que
s
t
io
n
h
o
w
s
h
e
c
a
m
e
t
o
kn
o
w
thi
s
l
a
nguag
e?

Ro
b
e
r
t
ros
e
fro
m
th
e
des
k
an
d
stoo
d
a
t
V
ictoria’
s
side
.

“I’
m
afrai
d
I
can’t
be
any
more
help,
but
I

ll
tell
you
this;
she’s
quite
convincing
and
astonishingly
intelligent.
I
wouldn’t
use
the
word
‘crazy’
to describe her.”

Elia
s
checke
d
hi
s
w
atc
h
an
d
shu
t
dow
n
th
e
computer.
“Nothin
g
ca
n
b
e
don
e
a
t
thi
s
hour
,
a
m
I
correct
?
Promis
e
me
you

l
l
pas
s
thi
s
t
o
someone—mor
e
quali
f
ied.

H
e
suddenl
y
sounded
w
eary as he
w
alked a
w
ay, muttering.


An
d
jus
t
wh
o
woul
d
b
e
qualifie
d
t
o
handl
e
a
cas
e
like
this?” she called after him.

Ignoring
Elias’s
remark,
Robert
turned
to
her
with
smiling
e
y
es
.

Y
ou’
v
e
dragge
d
m
e
int
o
th
e
middl
e
o
f
you
r
mystery
,
and
under
false
pretenses.
When
this
escapade
of
yours
is
finished,
you o
w
e me dinner.”

“What happened to lunch?”

H
e
presse
d
a
car
d
int
o
he
r
palm
,
lacin
g
hi
s
finger
s
wit
h
hers,
an
d
squeezed
.
H
e
pulle
d
he
r
clos
e
enoug
h
t
o
re
v
ea
l
trace
s
of
cedar
and
musk
from
his
cologne,
which
she
devoured
while
struggling to keep a respectable distance.

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