The Stranger - Max Frei [260]
That most important matter out of the way, I decided to seek out my breakfast. After some consideration, I resolved that Lady Marilyn could go for a walk in Kettari in the light of day. Why should I trouble myself with changing my clothes again? Soon, an elegant damsel was breaking all feminine records in the Old Table, a small restaurant where she astonished the proprietor with her preternatural ability to consume huge amounts of food. The appetite I had worked up during my nighttime wanderings was anything but dainty and ladylike.
Having eaten her fill, Lady Marilyn went shopping for a map of Kettari. I might need it in the future; and also, there was no better present I could give myself. Maps and atlases have a hypnotic effect on me, and if I had a different kind of character I could easily have become a collector. But collecting is not my forte. My things seem to spread out through the homes of my friends and disappear forever into dark corners. Even nailing them down wouldn’t help.
I purchased a small thick map with a carefully drawn plan of Kettari. I found a seat at a tiny table in a nameless tavern, sampled the kamra, and began examining my acquisition. I managed to locate my house, my beloved bridge with the dragon faces, Country Home tavern on Cheerful Square. Yes, that place fully deserved its name, if Lonli-Lokli’s antics were any proof.
After gulping down the last drop of kamra, I continued on my way. I was in love with the bridges of Kettari, and I wanted to cross the Meaire—this was the name of the dark little river—two hundred times, no fewer!
This time I crossed to the other bank over a large stone bridge that resembled an intricate underwater fortress. I roamed the city trying to find the places that had caught my fancy the night before. I came to understand yet again that night transforms the world completely; I wasn’t able to find a trace of them. This prompted me to do something that seemed quite senseless. I went into a tiny store, bought a fine, almost toy-like pencil, and marked my current route on the new map. I decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to retrace this path by dark and compare my impressions.
When I had finished, I looked around. The store was chock-full of wonderful bric-a-brac. It looked just like the thrift stores and antique marts of the Old City, where I was used to throwing to the winds, without much effort, the better part of my enormous salary. This store, too, brought out the spendthrift in me, and I dreamily fumbled through my pockets.
Oh, goodness! I suddenly remembered that the money for traveling expenses, our abundant expense account, was in a pouch strapped firmly to the belt of the wayward Lonli-Lokli, still missing in action. Just yesterday it had seemed like such a safe, reliable place for it. In my pockets I had only a bit of change—not more than ten crowns. Any resident of the Capital would consider that to be a veritable fortune, but not I. Almost thirty years of modest, humble making-do hadn’t done me any good, and I was now going through an extended period of pathological squandering. I had a physical need to throw money away, and the habit of keeping track of expenses, weighing what I could or could not afford, gave me a headache. Berating myself for being a brainless moron, I looked around helplessly. Well, it was impossible to leave such a marvelous place without a souvenir. All the more since my eyes had alighted on yet another map of Kettari, embroidered on a delicate piece of leather, a true work of art.
“How much is this little trifle?” I casually asked the proprietor, who was watching me intently.
“Just three crowns, miss,” he replied saucily.
The price was outrageous. Even in the Capital things made in the Code Epoch were cheaper.
I frowned. “For some reason it seems to me that even one crown would be too much. But one I’d be willing to pay, I suppose. I’ve done sillier things.”
The merchant stared at me mistrustfully. I