Khùngut Xhmanéja-yùtya’ Akhakhma-yùjhwa
A fiery example of advice from the Onomatothete
Khetya-tsatlhu-yùpwarn qir oâqe tnèmo xhroe xapwù-yatser
Triim-upwar-òntet Alixhlìnye. Wtsókekh
qui Peqlor-òjhwa tnoaqteûpa kae xhré-yaloi xhlir jhpaipasaraxim-èpyer
paje-yayàmeqhe wthór ei-xhrejor kexh-ing fhòqru kàyaim Wthá-yètyikh ker Ólu xú.
The Traîkhiim and Alixhlìnye looked at each other for some
time in silence. The ballerina princess,
of course, had seen Traîkhiim thralls before, and she understood, believing
them to be a ridiculous sort of Real People.
Jinga-khátoi-yòjhwo tyìxhoka kekoil qir qtènu
jhamfhe-yaîqhor pón-ukh-òjhwo qhosòqwalu kei-yekhmo-sas khyaîrfha jingà-xhlókh
lyíl-aîqhor jinga-yáqixhla-yaponya-yòjhwo’ ángei kei-qoas tlhutlhùste
tekhya-xhmointa-yentir-òntett tekhya-tlhaqìxhla khmistítlheu teiqhà-fhtékh
In fact, they had three heads upon serpentile necks, and
spherical bodies whence fluttered triple wingfins, and three limbs that had the
function for both one’s legs and one’s arms, and whose ending were finger-toes.
Qojhyì-yengit tsùtru joatlhai-yàswaor tsena-jinga-yaîxas
xhnoe yontet kekoil axóqoa xhnoe fhlá qir khurìterit khátoi-yòtya xhnoike
peswis-èltal ei wtsùswo khwíkh keku-xhli.
This androgynous, quetzal plumed folk had only a single eye
and single mouth in each head, and they were genericly and widely known to be
Paje-khlílu jinga-khlistri-yàtser-ing kexh-ing
ptoteiyoîngqa-yan sixe-jhkhelèlri kekoil sepejhi-xùxhwi qìr xhré xhré
pejhì-yejet khlapin-òjhwa keku-xhrejor tsena xhmir Pwér koaqing Khìlyakol
She had heard, in terms of their story, that their
ancestors, for their own benefit, had sold their entire species into slavery,
because they could not pay their library fines to the Emperor in his Library.
Qìr ké khringìmemat tsiqhet-ùpwar khanu-yèkhmo kekoi’ áqexhnoa-yòtya
Tlhiîmening khnie-khlùmpukh paje-xhutsè-yepakh xhlir xhwàqhunoi thelèkhqa
Finally the Traîkhiim removed a smoking pipe from one of his
or her mouths, as he or she addressed her, saying in a languid, soporific
“Xhyus texh-ing-e-sa?” paje-jhyèlta Lwikhlímil.
“Who are you, maid?” chanted the Traîkhiim.
Khyenui-khmepóker pròxhnaikhh khmùsam pae xing khnón-utya
pei. Sei-paje-sèpute ju-yAlixhlìnye
ju-xhrámemet-ènxhur. “Khmaô jáxe
pyákhepemat-ejìkh-eqho’ aî-jhètlhefho qaîstemat pú-yepakh xhnoet fhwàsamat quja
sanínxho-yejìkh-ejakh xhré xhroe pú poaqing kormàntu qir khyèxhre-xing
khyexhrexájana poa paje-khmefhèxhna quja’ ei-xhrejor ó poa xhnípe-yìthni
khmolreqhè-yejikh xhyìtiqho khmén-aloi khwongar-oâka-xing pú.”
This was not an inspiring morning for a conversation at
all. Humbly Alixhlìnye replied, being
rather shy. “Presently I only know a
little, in general, oh smoking thrall, however, I know the dear damsel that I
was, as I got up this dawnlight, the bridging hour, but I think, perhaps, that
surely I was mutated several times after the red hours.”
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