The Stranger - Max Frei [254]
“Echo,” I replied with a slight feeling of guile. When you tell someone from a small provincial town that you are from the Capital, you are overcome with a sense of awkwardness, as though you have just snatched a silver spoon from your conversation partner’s sideboard.
“But you don’t have an accent like someone from the Capital,” remarked the observant old lady. “And it’s not like ours, either. Where were you born, young miss?”
Lady Marilyn and I began to lie with gusto.
“I was born in County Vook. My parents fled there in the Time of Troubles, and they were quite happy. But I married a man from Echo just a few years ago. My great-grandmother is from Kettari, though, and so . . . In short, when I told my husband, ‘Glamma, I want a good Kettarian carpet,’ that wasn’t really what I was after. What I really wanted was to—”
“. . . to visit the land of fairy tales you had heard so much about when you were a child,” the old woman said, finishing my thought. “I can see you really like it here.”
“I certainly do! By the way, would you mind telling me what the custom is in this city? I’d like to find a place to live for a few dozen days. Not a hotel, but ordinary citizen’s lodgings. Is that possible?”
“It is, indeed,” the old lady said with enthusiasm. “You can rent one floor, or a whole house. A whole house is quite expensive, though, even for a short stay.”
“Oh, goodness!” I exclaimed. “I just wish I could meet someone who would offer me something suitable—and whether expensive or not, we could simply discuss the matter.” And I tapped the tip of my nose with the forefinger of my right hand.
“Welcome, young lady!” the old woman said with a merry chuckle. “You certainly deserve a little discount. Just imagine, I’m on my way home from my friend Rarra’s house. We were just talking about how we might as well settle down in one house, either mine or hers, since we visit each other every day. The second house could be rented out, so that we could afford a few extras for ourselves. We’ve been talking over this plan for a dozen years or more, and we can’t come to a decision. A few dozen days is just what we need to begin with. It will give both of us enough time to figure out whether we’re capable of living under the same roof. My house is nearby. I’d only ask ten crowns for a dozen days.”
“Ouch! Prices are steeper here than in the Capital!” I exclaimed.
“All right, eight; but you and your husband will have to help me move some of my indispensable belongings to Rarra’s,” the old woman said resolutely. “There aren’t too many. Since you have an amobiler and a strong man at your disposal, I don’t think it will trouble you too much.”
The “indispensable belongings” were so numerous that the move had to be carried out in six runs. But the time was well spent. Lady Xaraya, our landlady, managed to show us a place where we could get a good breakfast, and another place for an evening meal. She also warned us (about a hundred times) not to play cards with the locals—very thoughtful of her.
After we paid in advance for two dozen days, Lady Xaraya wished us a good night and disappeared into her friend’s house.
“It looks like the little old ladies are planning to get a bit tipsy tonight,” I said. “Let’s go home, Sir Shurf. Don’t be mad, but I’m sick of having to call you Glamma.”
“As you wish, but I prefer to be as careful as we can. What difference does it make what you call someone? What’s really important is that you not slip up in front of other people.”
“What ‘other people’? Our companions of the road are slumbering happily in some flea-bag hotel. I assume that they were fleeced out of more money than we were for that opportunity. Aren’t you thrilled at what my lucky streak has found this time?”
“Yes, to be sure,” Lonli-Lokli admitted. “But I had been expecting something like this all along, so I’m not surprised. I hope my reaction is not cause for disappointment.”
“Of course not! It inspires me with the wonderful feeling that everything in the World is in its proper place. Your