The Stranger - Max Frei [15]
And so the ladies entered the parlor and seated themselves ceremoniously at the table. The eldest was called Mallis. The two others, by no means young, were Tisa and Retani. I grew a bit sad. For the first time I was in the company of otherworldly ladies, and just my luck—the youngest of them was pushing 300!
Juffin’s behavior deserves separate commentary. First, he sculpted his face into the gloomiest frown that you can imagine. Then, in addition to the mournful expression of his physiognomy, the grannies were fated to witness him cover his eyes with the palm of his hand in a pathetic gesture, and further to hear the emotionally burdened recitative of his initial greeting. His intonations were wracked with a wailing of the spirit, more akin to the cadences of tragic drama than an interrogation. The order of his words and sentences started slipping around in the most peculiar way. Of course, in Echo one must address wisewomen with due respect and solemnity, as one would be expected to address a university professor in my homeland. In my opinion, however, Mr. Venerable Head went a little overboard. But my opinion would hardly have interested any of those present, which is why I modestly lowered my eyes and kept my mouth shut. Actually, I returned to my kamra, which I had clearly drunk too much of already, since it was there for the taking.
“Excuse my haste and the inconvenience I may have caused you, my wise ladies,” Juffin declaimed with lofty precision. “But without judicious counsel, my life has no meaning or purpose. I have heard that your wondrous powers were able to extend the measure of life of an inhabitant of this house, one who had lost the Spark, to a most remarkable degree.”
“Ah, yes; Olli, one of the young Makluks,” Tisa replied knowingly.
One of the young Makluks? I must admit, I thought the old woman had gotten it all wrong, but Juffin nodded right back at her. Then again, she had most likely known their common grandfather. (Later I found out that the crones were far older than I could ever have imagined. Here in Echo, the lifespan of an ordinary person is three hundred years, and greater longevity is a matter of personal stamina. So in their line of work, at the age of five hundred you’re still a spring chicken!)
“Olli was very strong,” Lady Mallis announced. “And if you think about the fact that the twelve strongest ladies in Echo guarded his shadow, you will understand that his life was too short by far! We, of course, thought that the Spark would return to him. In days long ago, that happened often, though you young ones don’t believe it. Young Olli didn’t believe it, either; but that wasn’t necessary. He still had a chance to get back the Spark!”
“I’ve never heard the likes of it, my Lady!” Juffin declared, his curiosity piqued. (Later he admitted to me that he had lied—“just to liven up the conversation.”) “I thought the poor fellow had lived surprisingly long, but it turns out that he died before he should have!”
“No one dies too early or too late; everyone dies in his own time. But you, a Kettari man, should know that! You look into the darkness, don’t you? But it wasn’t our fault that Olli died.”
“Of course, I have never had any doubt on that score, my Lady!”
“You doubt everything, you sly old fox. And that’s as it should be. I can tell you one thing—we don’t know why Olli died. And we should know. We need to know.”
“Braba knows, but won’t tell,” Lady Tisa broke in. “That’s why she refused to come to the house of the Makluks. And she won’t come. But there’s no need for this. Retari visited her the day after Olli’s death. Tell them, Retari! We never asked you about it, because we had other worries. But now, it seems the Kettarian has only one worry—to find out why Braba is afraid to come here. And until he finds out, he’s not going to give us a moment’s peace.”
Silence reigned. Then Juffin bowed graciously to Lady Tisa.
“You read my heart