The lady finally made an appearance. She slunk around the Hall of Common Labor, unsure of whether to approach me. The door to the office was open a crack, so I had the opportunity to overhear a series of bitter sighs, too loud to be spontaneous.
After enjoying the concert, I sent a call to the Glutton and ordered kamra for two and a lot of cookies. The order arrived in a matter of minutes. When the courier opened the door, Melamori flitted to the far corner of the hall, fearful of remaining in my field of vision. She seemed to be listening to the clatter of dishes with bated breath.
When the messenger had left, I asked loudly through my wide-open door:
“If I have a tray with two jugs of kamra and two mugs delivered to my room, do you think it’s because I suffer from a split personality? I need help—there are no two ways about it.”
“Is that for me, Max?” came the plaintive squeak.
“It’s for my late great-grandmother, but as she’s in no condition to join us—well, I’m not angry, and the kamra’s getting cold.”
Melamori appeared at the door. Two expressions struggled for mastery on her face: a guilty one, and a satisfied one.
“Did Juffin tattle on me? He might have saved himself the trouble, since I’m so ashamed as it is,” she muttered.
“There’s no need to feel ashamed, Melamori. I’m just made a bit differently, that’s all. Don’t worry your head over it. My wise Mamma said that if I ate a lot of horse dung every morning, I would grow up strong and handsome, and no one would be able to shadow me. As you can see, she was right.”
My heart ordered me to be magnanimous, but it would be wrong not to admit that I hoped for a little reward. After all, her admiration (albeit treacherous) was a rather pleasant sensation; far better, it seemed to me, than polite indifference. Polite indifference, which I had experienced more than once, was something I didn’t even want to contemplate.
As a result of my carefully planned operation, I seemed at last to have charmed the First Lady of the Secret Investigative Force. Sipping her kamra, she exuded ingenuous cheer. Our fingers touched accidentally a few times over the cookie platter, and she didn’t cringe from my touch by any means. Suddenly emboldened, I suggested that we stroll through Echo in the evening. The lady admitted honestly that she was afraid, but she promised to be brave—not today or tomorrow, but very soon. No later than a few days from now. We just had to fix the date for accomplishing this feat. It was a serious victory. I hadn’t counted on it.
I went home ecstatic. For two hours or so I tossed and turned, unwilling to forfeit my happy excitement to the oblivion of sleep. Finally I dozed off, lulled by the purring of Armstrong and Ella curled up at my feet. I wasn’t able to sleep for long, though.
At midday I was awoken by a terrible noise. My head still fuzzy with sleep, I decided that a public execution (not customary in Echo) was underway beneath my window, or that there was an itinerant circus in progress (which does happen here from time to time). Insofar as it was impossible to regain slumber in the midst of that hubbub, I went to see what was going on. When I opened the door, I suddenly felt that I had either lost my mind, or that I wasn’t really awake yet.
On the street in front of my house, an orchestra made up of a dozen musicians had taken up its position. The musicians were trying desperately to coax some mournful melody out of their instruments. The magnificent Lonli-Lokli stood in front of them, wailing at the top of his lungs a sad song about a little house in the steppe at the top of his lungs.
This can’t be happening, because—because it just can’t be happening, I thought, dumbstruck. Hardly waiting until the end of the serenade, I rushed over to my colleague to find out what was happening.
“What is this, Shurf? Why aren’t you on duty? Good golly, what’s this all about?”
Sir Lonli-Lokli coughed, unfazed.
“Is something wrong Max? Did I pick the wrong song?”
“The song is wonderful, but . . . let’s go into the living room, Shurf. They’ll bring us some kamra from the Sated Skeleton, and you’ll explain everything to me. All right?” I was ready to cry from bewilderment and vexation.
Dismissing the musicians with an expansive gesture, my “official friend” followed me into the house. Beside myself with relief, I collapsed onto an armchair and sent a call to the Sated Skeleton. Not the worst pub in Echo, it was, moreover, the closest to home.
“I’m not on duty, since they offered me a Day of Freedom from Care and Chores,” Lonli-Lokli began calmly. “And so I decided to use this opportunity to carry out my duty to you.”
“What duty?”
“The duty of friendship!” Now it was his turn to be surprised. “Have I done something wrong? But I consulted the handbook . . .”
“What is this handbook, and where did you get it?”
“You see, Sir Max, after you and I became friends, I started thinking that the customs of the places you spent your youth might differ from ours. I didn’t want to offend you accidentally, out of ignorance. So I turned to Sir Melifaro, since his father is the preeminent specialist on the subject of the customs of peoples that inhabit the World.”
“Aha! Sir Melifaro!” I exclaimed, beginning to understand.
“Yes, insofar as the books yielded no information about this aspect of the lives of your countrymen. The only reliable source for this information is Sir Manga Melifaro. Considering that we are both acquainted with his son—”
“Yes, we are acquainted. And Melifaro told you that you must regale me with romantic folk ballads?”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or to be angry. Someone knocked on the door. The delivery boy from the Sated Skeleton had arrived just on time.
“Sir Melifaro told me about this particular custom of the Barren Lands, and about a few others, as well. He said that at the full moon, you and I had to exchange blankets, and on the Last Day of the Year—”
“Yes? And what, in his opinion, must we do then?”
“Visit each other and clean the bathing pools with our own hands. As well as other hygienic spots, including the toilets. Was he mistaken about that, Max?”
I tried to master my emotions. I realized that I needed to spare Lonli-Lokli’s feelings. It would be unpleasant for him to find out that he had become the victim of a practical joke.
“Of course not, Shurf. That’s all basically true. Only, you don’t have to do any of this anymore. I’m an ordinary, civilized person who ended up living in a strange place for a time. Much stranger to me than you can even imagine. But I’ve never held fast to the barbaric customs of my homeland. So, for one thing, friendship means the same thing there that it means here—straightforward, good relations between two people who are sympathetic to each other and wish each other the best. Exchanging blankets or mutual toilet-cleaning isn’t necessary. Agreed?”
“But of course, Max. I hope I haven’t offended you in any way. I simply wished to show my respect for the customs of your forebears and to please you.”
“You have pleased me with your considerate attentions and companionship, in any case. I assure you.”
After feeding and reassuring my guest, I ushered him out the door and was left alone with my own fully justified indignation. The first thing I did was to send a call to Melifaro.
You’re forgetting that I can fly into a terrible rage, pal! I growled fiercely (insofar as it’s possible to growl fiercely using Silent Speech).