Carrick's pale eyes remained fixed sharply new his new slave for a long, dangerous moment. He finally lowered the paper and placed it back on his desk.
"And you didn't think to mention this in the auction house."
He gave an almost inaudible sigh. "Very well. Not your fault I suppose. You told a certain kind of truth. Wily little thing, aren't you? And quite worthy of your name."
He sat back in his chair, musing. "I suppose it must have taken an impressive intellect to learn other languages without being able to read any of them." He thought back to the days when literacy was a rarity among anyone not of the upper classes, whether slave or Supernatural.
The familiar sharpness returned to his gaze. "You're going to learn. English at the very least. Is that quite clear?"