The Stranger - Max Frei [2]
We then undertook the next test of my nerves: dinner. In a noble gesture, Kimpa deigned to keep me company at the meal. The time was thus put to good use. Before tasting each of the dishes, I would observe the performance of my teacher. After I had scrutinized the spectacle, I attempted to put the accumulated wisdom into action; that is, I dispatched toward my mouth the corresponding utensils filled with the necessary ingredients. I even went so far as to copy the expressions on his face, just in case.
At last I was left to my own devices, and was advised to take a look around the house and gardens. This I gladly did, in the company of Chuff, a charming creature who looked like a shaggy bulldog. Chuff was my guide. Without him I would most likely have gone astray in the huge, half-empty house, and been unable to find the door that led into the dense, overgrown garden. When I reached it I lay down in the grass and finally relaxed.
At sundown the elderly butler marched ceremoniously to a diminutive, elegant shed at the end of the garden. He soon emerged from it on a small wonder of technology, which, to judge from its appearance, could only be propelled by a team of horses. Nevertheless, it moved forward on horsepower of its own. Kimpa maneuvered this contraption with a speed that, it seemed to me, corresponded to his age. (Later I learned that at one point in his long life Kimpa had been a race-car driver, and the speed at which he drove the amobiler—this was the name of the peculiar vehicle—was the maximum of its capacity.)
Kimpa was not alone when he returned: my old friend, denizen of my wondrous dreams, Sir Juffin Hully himself, was enthroned on the soft cushions of this motorized carriage.
Only then did I realize that everything that had happened had, indeed, happened. I rose to greet him, and in the same movement dropped to my knees in the grass, rubbing my eyes, my mouth hanging open in wonder. When my vision returned, I saw two smiling Sir Juffins coming toward me. With an intense effort of will, I merged them into one, pulled myself up on my feet, and even managed to close my jaw. This may have been the most courageous act of my life.
“That’s all right, Max,” Sir Juffin Hully said soothingly. “I’m not quite myself, either, and I have a tad bit more experience in these matters. I’m glad to finally make your acquaintance, body and soul!” After these words he covered his eyes with his left hand and announced solemnly: “I see you as though in a waking dream!” Then he removed his hand from his eyes and winked at me.
“This is how we make someone’s acquaintance, Sir Max. Repeat after me.”
I did as I was told. It turned out that my performance was “not bad for a start,” after which I had to repeat the whole thing about seventeen times. I felt like the dull-witted heir to a throne, for whom they finally must enlist the help of an accomplished mentor in good manners.
Alas, the training in local etiquette didn’t stop there. The fact is that Echo, from time immemorial, has been inhabited by magicians. I suspect that all Echo natives are magicians, to some degree. Luckily, exactly one-hundred fifteen years before my arrival here, the ancient rivalry between the innumerable Orders of Magicians ended in the triumph of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover and King Gurig VII. Since then, citizens of Echo are permitted to indulge in only the simplest kinds of magic, mainly of a medicinal or culinary nature. For instance, magic is used in the preparation of kamra, a substance that serves as the local alternative