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World #291 has scattered archipelagos with lovely white sand and winged, clawed humanoids who hatch on the beaches in springtime. The locals haven't invented writing yet; they've got stone tools, which they use to pry clams off the beach. Volcanic island topsoil is not especially suited to agriculture and they have not invented it. As usual it takes a few hours of asking to get a complete account of the magic system: you can sacrifice knowledge in singing rituals to marginally alter your flight speed or the weather. Their language is entirely lyrical.

<What if you sacrifice a lot of knowledge, can you do more than that?> he asks, and is told you can't sacrifice more knowledge than you can sing about. If you sing really fast you could get a larger small rainstorm? 

They drop a Charp and an auditorium somewhere nestled into the hillside of every populated island. The auditoriums are spacious and simple and elegant to the Elven eye (Matirin finds them too stone-y). The Charp can teach flat Arda healing and literacy and mathematics and germ theory and engineering and agriculture and give these people a shot even though there are too many worlds to give them all individual attention.

World #292 just had a nuclear war. Fuck. He puts out an advisory. He verifies there's no local magic. Space volunteers to find some angels and come up with some excuse for not summoning them on-site and send them out (in a lightleaper, that'll invisibly leap dimensions a couple times) to help with healing and radiation and clouds of debris. 

Demons too, he says, they're starving and we might as well put entirely new infrastructure down -

- and touch-heals until the daeva arrive, and then heads out because the daeva are not supposed to know about blue centaur aliens. 

World #293 is ice-bound and the sapients are cephalopods who live well underwater. Charps will rust, so he pops back to #292 and has Cam laminate them. He has no idea how to adapt the 'auditorium' concept to underwater, so he drops them off swimming and starts running the standard set of tests.

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He will do that!!

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And here is Beach! It has shorefolk in it. They look up when he appears and then ignore him with an air of "oh, Tireh is doing more weird stuff".

"Hi!" says Tireh.

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He echoes the sound she just made! 

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"You got perfect pitch somehow, right?"

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"Hexed it on. Makarial'd already charted it, years ago. ...he didn't even need it, he was annoyed by other peoples' singing."

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She giggles. "I've never tried to teach a language before, how do you want to do it?"

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"I'll turn Allspeak off, you say things, I say them back with variants and you correct me if I'm getting it wrong -"

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"You don't want me to explain any of it first?"

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"You can if you'd like!"

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"I'm just not sure how easy it'd be to pick up the singing and syllables distinction starting from a language that doesn't have it - the language can be completely sung or hummed without losing any meaning, but it's faster if there are syllables, and most words have syllable versions, because they allow compounds. Like, 'person' is -" chirp! "- but you can turn it into a phrase if you sing the same notes - 'singer' is what we usually call ourselves -" She sings that.

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"Idiolects vary a lot, there aren't any like that but there are distinctions no other language has - 'person', 'singer'?"

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"Mmhm!"

And she starts singing random information.

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He bounces gleefully. "Oh, it's beautiful - to be fair I say that about every language - oh it is beautiful? to be balance I say that again and again a language? -"

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She laughs at him and corrects his translations and flaps her wings with amusement.

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"Wings are lovely! Beach is lovely! Shorefolk are lovely? On the lovely beach are lovely shorefolk?"

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"Those are all right."

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"On the lovely shorefolk are lovely beaches? On the lovely waters are lovely trees? The shorefolk put the water on the trees, the shorefolk put the trees on the water..."

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Some of the nearby other shorefolk overhear this and laugh. Tireh corrects him about the portability of beaches and the state of local agricultural tree-cultivation and boat-building (nil).

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"The shorefolk with the loveliest beaches are happiest? The beaches with the loveliest shorefolk are sandiest? The singers sang, the waves waved..."

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"The correlations are spurious but the grammar is right."

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"The correlations are spurious! The sands are spurious, the beaches are spurious - what a pretty word! The grammar is loveliest!"

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"Sand cannot be spurious! Beaches can't either!"

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"Sand cannot be spurious! Trees cannot be singing! Waters cannot be flying!"

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"Those are true but the grammar is wrong!" And she corrects it.

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And after about an hour of this he is so so delighted with her language and wants to wander around talking to shorefolk, do they mind?

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