The Stranger - Max Frei [188]
“Don’t even think of putting the turkey on a plate,” Sir Kofa whispered. “It has to stay right where it is. Slice the meat with a knife using a fork to hold it steady . . . And don’t touch it with your hands. You’ll ruin the taste!”
I obeyed for that would truly have been a sin.
After the fourth tavern, I began to beg for mercy. I felt there was a good chance I would share the sad fate of the Tallaboona family.
“What a weak stomach you have, boy! I never would have expected it. There’s one more excellent establishment I want to show you. They have delicious desserts, and very small portions. Honest!”
“All right,” I grumbled. “But this is the last one. For today, anyway.”
The tavern was called the Irrashi Coat of Arms Inn.
“Who’s Irrashi?” I asked without thinking.
“Come off it, lad! You know who Hathor is, but forget the name of the neighboring country?”
“I just ate so much I can’t think straight anymore.”
I felt ashamed. Even though the eight-volume Encyclopedia by Manga Melifaro had long ago found its way from the bookshelf to my bedside table, the geography of the World was still not one of my strong points.
Sir Kofa Yox shook his head disdainfully, and we entered.
“Xokota!” a friendly bartender called to us in greeting.
“Xokota!” Sir Kofa answered solemnly.
“What did you just say?”
“Ah, that’s one of the the nice customs of this place. The proprietors are all locals, from Echo. But the cuisine is Irrashi, and they try to speak to the customers in broken Irrashi, to the best of their abilities. It’s funny—Irrashi is one of the few countries where they don’t speak in normal human language. Our homegrown snobs consider their babbling to be the height of refinement.”
“Right. And you just greeted each other, as I understand it.”
“Of course. Look over there, Max. You see that fellow in the gray looxi? He’s dressed very strangely, don’t you think?”
“Strangely? Why do you say that, Kofa?”
I looked over at the modestly clad, middle-aged stranger who was hunched over his mug at the bar.
“You didn’t notice? And the belt?”
“I can’t see any belt from where I’m sitting. Move over! Ah! Sinning Magicians, that’s beautiful!”
The stranger was wearing an elegant, broad belt under his looxi—a remarkable thing that glistened like bright mother-of-pearl.
“That’s what I was talking about. Hm, it really is quite strange. The fellow is dressed modestly in the extreme. He couldn’t be dressed worse, in fact. His skaba is downright tattered, did you see?”
“What a nit-picker you are, Kofa!”
“That’s my job. Oh, here’s our dessert.”
The portions were indeed quite small. We were each served a piece of weirdly oscillating pie. It didn’t resemble jelly—the pie seemed to move of its own accord, not as a result of its internal consistency. And the spoons they gave us! They were gigantic. I couldn’t imagine how we were supposed to eat our dessert with them. They would never fit into a human mouth.
“Excuse me, my fine friend,” I said to the young waiter. “This is not a spoon; it’s a travesty, a mockery of a spoon at best. Couldn’t you find some other kind of utensil for us?”
“Xvarra tonikai! Okir blad tuu.”
After this utterance, the fellow disappeared. I looked quizzically at my dinner companion.
“What was he saying, Kofa?”
“Magicians only know. I’m no Irrashi interpreter. First he apologized, then . . . I think he said he’d go look for something. But you’re selling yourself short, Max. These amusing ladles are one of the charms of the Coat of Arms. Such a refined dessert—and such enormous spoons! You won’t see anything like it anywhere else in Echo.”
“I can do without the ‘charms.’ There’s no way I’m going to eat with that shovel! I’d rather eat with my fingers. Oh, where is my Mantle of Death when I need it? If I were wearing it, the proprietor of this place would have pulled out the family silver passed down from his great-grandmother. Sir Kofa, my old face hasn’t returned yet, has it? I’m about to start raising a ruckus.”
I was having fun.