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Aye, night commes and Hee risith from the Flame;
Lyoun and Eagle loudlie cry His name:
The Phoenix that schall spurn the shatter’d Spere.
Hys Fire shall fede upoun his darkest Fear:
But nott yntil the Starres fall owt the Skye,
Dawn coms up Blue, and our Daye be past by.

—rede fragment, Héalhregebócan,
IV, 6-12

A BRIEF NOTE ON LINGUISTICS AND
PRONUNCIATION

Darthene and Arlene are both outgrowths of the same root language, which dates back at least as far as the post-Worldwinning migrations northward from the Highpeaks. The Oath of Lion and Eagle, the Great Road from Prydon to Darthis, and other such stimulants to exchange of goods and information, have worked to lessen the linguistic changes that might occur when two nations are so large and sparsely populated. Vocalic and consonantal shifts tend to filter back and forth across the borders as they happen, though very isolated towns often keep pronunciations of words that are centuries-gone elsewhere. Differences in accent are usually due to this kind of isolation. Freelorn’s remark about Herewiss’ ridiculous Southern accent was prompted by the fact that the Brightwood dialect of Darthene is almost unchanged since the days of the migration, and is something of a humorous anomaly in the cosmopolitan North. At the other extreme, in the country on either side of the Arlid, the two languages are so intertwined that it’s almost impossible to tell them apart. “Pure” Arlene and Darthene exist, like “classical” Latin and Greek, as primarily written languages: the two tongues use a common set of runes, though diacritical marks and cursive ligatures differ.

Nháired is a subdialect of Darthene, full of anachronistic forms of words, odd rules for rhythm and scansion, and “denser” abbreviatory forms than those occurring in orthodox Darthene. The involved rules for speaking the language suggest that it was originally intended strictly as a vehicle for poetry; learning to scan Nháired is the work of years, and making magic in it is another business entirely. In Herewiss’ time, it is the preferred language for the working of serious sorcery, and as much pride is taken by the artist in the poetic flow of the spell as in the effects after it is spoken. There is a saying in Darthene: “Half of poetry is magic: half of magic is poetry.”

Where a “foreign” language appears in the text, it is Nháired; it is considered both unartistic and unwise to translate it. Some of the proper names and places of things in the book are in “regular” Arlene or Darthene.

The proper names of people, however, I have usually translated into equivalents, using Latin, Greek, Coptic, or Anglo-Saxon roots. I have tried to convey the feeling that those names give the people in the Arthene/Darlene cultures who hear and use them—a feeling that a given name is rooted in one’s own language, though an older form perhaps. “Herewiss,” to me, has a more familiar, analyzable sound than “Aerphrárdë,” which is his name in Darthene; and the roots of the Anglo-Saxon form, meaning “battle-wise, crafty, brilliant,” translate the original well.

Accents fall, for the most part, on the next-to-last syllable of a word. Exceptions are indicated with diacritical marks, and umlauts (¨) are used to warn against letting vowels, especially terminal ones, fall silent or short. Outside of these restrictions, the reader is encouraged to pronounce the words any way he/she likes.

—D.E.D.



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