Well, the obvious thing to do is feed some of her own magic in — presumably Maenik has embedded more 'channels' in the metal that will ... teach her words, somehow.

She carefully lets a measured portion of magic pour through her fingers and into the block.

Maenik smiles for a moment then adopts a more focused expression and channels more of her magic into the block.

The magic from the block rather than flowing out into the air reaches back through her body and up to her head. It doesn't seem to change anything there rather it's looking at or feeling something there and forming itself into a complicated structure perhaps a bit like arranging sand to look like something you've seen only with absurd levels of detail.

Ðani gives a sort of full-body shudder at the sensation; the feeling of magic flowing into her — even if it's just her own magic, restructured somehow by the block — feels invasive, now that she has magic of her own.

But ... if it's just looking, she doesn't see the harm in letting it continue. And it is still hers. She takes a deep breath to steady herself.

Once her magic has finished it's sculpting it carries the sculpture back down to the block. Maenik's magic has brought down a similar sculpture and their respective magics take some time to copy what the other has created. Then these new copies make their way back towards each woman's respective head. The packet settles inside Ðani's head doing something subtle there.

"Hello, if everything worked correctly you should be able to understand me." Maenik's words are in a language Ðani didn't know until just now but somehow she understands them perfectly.

And then in her village's native language. "Thank you all for your help teaching me your language. I should be able to understand you now."

Understanding a language that she previously didn't is deeply unsettling. She twitches, and then realizes that she doesn't want to be impolite, and it is genuinely much more useful than trying to learn each others' languages from scratch, so she schools her expression.

And then belatedly lets go of the block.

"Ah, yes. I can understand you," Ðani replies. "Welcome to Southern Fishing Village; your visit is exciting."

Maenik absolutely notices the flinch. "Thank you. I'm glad my presence is welcome. If the language magic is uncomfortable you can take it apart and we can just use your language, the only real downside is that there's some things it might be harder to explain in your language."

"I don't object to speaking your language," Ðani hastens to reassure her. "It's just an unsettling sensation when one isn't prepared, is all."

"So you can't float me, but what if I climbed on your back? Or you put an illusion around me so I could see it?" Daskal interjects, unbound by vocabulary-related limitations. "Uh, please. Or can Ðani float too now that she has Magic?"

Genilha sighs. "Manners, Daskal. We should at least ask our guest if she needs anything, now that we can."

"I know you already know our names, but this is Genilha, my father, and Penþa, the village organizer. And Daskal, my intended's mother's fishing-partner's son," Ðani introduces. "And yes — is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?"

"People with magic don't need much. Even with just the instinctive grasp you have now you could swim for as long as you wanted without coming up for breathe. Knowing what I know I could go months without eating or drinking. I would appreciate somewhere to sleep though when the time comes."

She turns to Daskal, "Floating other people is quite hard. I can take you with me though if whoever is responsible for you is okay with it. I could also surround you with an illusion I'm not sure what you want an illusion of though, just being high in the sky? Sometimes seeing the ground very far below makes people uncomfortable. As for Ðani Floating she could learn but she doesn't know how to yet and if you make a mistake falling from a great height can hurt a lot so it's something to be careful about."

Daskal spins to address Oskeli, who has been quietly watching from the chair.

"Grandmothers, may I?" he asks.

Oskeli quirks an eyebrow. "I thought Okanel was supposed to look out for you while your mother is out on the lake."

"Yeah, but you're closer! And definitely responsible," Daskal protests.

"Go find Okanel and ask. Worst case, we can ask your mother when she gets in; it doesn't sound like our guest is going anywhere," Oskeli advises.

Daskal disappears into the village at extraordinary speed.

Penþa coughs. If the linguistic packet captured words for common objects directly, instead of just correspondences of words, Maenik might notice that the net they're holding in their offhand is indeed writing, not just artwork.

"We can certainly offer you a place to sleep. I have a guest bed in my house for unexpected travelers," they assure Maenik. "Although sunset won't be for a few hours. Would you mind if we asked some questions about Magic?"

"Not at all... Oh, so that is a form of writing. I wondered." The language magic doesn't operate at an object recognition level but she can tell there's a separate word for writing nets from fishing nets.

Penþa blinks, and then holds it up for inspection.

"Yes, I was just taking some notes, because it seems likely that this will become part of a song one day," they explain. "The written form is a little different from the spoken form of the language; I don't know whether you would have picked it up. Actually, that's related to my first question — you asked to 'give' Magic to Ðani, which makes perfect sense since that's the word we taught you. It's the easiest related word to illustrate, really. But there are actually several words that could conceivably apply: 'give', 'share', 'trade', and 'provide access to'*. Which one of those is most appropriate?"

* Translator's note: This forms a quartet of related words; there are two orthogonal distinctions being made — whether something is given with or without the expectation of being compensated, and whether giving something deprives the giver of it or not.

"I got as much as Ðani knows and that doesn't seem to be a lot. As for your second question the best word is 'share.' In my culture, it's taboo to accept compensation for sharing magic. It's not hard to figure out how and it doesn't take anything but time and some magic in the moment."

"That's wonderful," Penþa replies.

Ðani shakes her head, dismissing an errant thought.

"Oh good. Thank you," she says as well. "Does that mean that I should be able to share it as well? It felt like it might be as simple as sort of ... pressing the magic into the other person?"

Actually, does Maenik's language have better words for all of the odd qualia associated with magic? She mentally pokes at the language.

"It's about that simple. You should be able to pick it up after a couple tries at most and you can't hurt people while trying. I think the hardest part is just how much magic you need to use for it. Most things people use magic for take a lot less. Magic being so easy to share means that the people who believe magic is a gift from a spirit usually think that Spirit wants magic to be shared."

The language magic won't directly list out all the words associated with magical qualia but it will give her more specific words for what she's already found approximations for in her own language. With some persistence she can work her way out from there. That effort will yield quite a few words but also some clues that suggest there's a rather different way to perceive magic which is more precise.

"Oh! I guess that makes sense, that it would ultimately have come from one of the fair ones," Ðani responds. "But Oskeli, you didn't think that where she was from looked like the other place?"

Oskeli shakes their head. "No, not really — too defined. But it could just be that one of the members of my sister's court came through elsewhere, perhaps. But ... Maenik, do you know where the place you came from is from here?"