admiration.
I was sure that if he had been a basketball coach, he would have tried to recruit Sir Olli onto his team without a second thought.
“The bowl hit me straight in the face, the edge gouging my eyebrow. It started to bleed, and like an imbecile, I tried to turn away, and crashed into the mirror with all my might. Luckily, it was a sturdy thing. Old craftsmanship! I was soaking wet, my face covered in blood, the mirror all bloodied up, too. Sir Olli panicked, he thought he had killed me. Raised quite a commotion. And when I washed my face, it turned out that it was nothing at all—a scratch half a finger’s length long. It didn’t even leave a scar! It never entered my head to complain—you can’t let yourself get insulted by an old man. He didn’t even have the Spark anymore; he was all but dead already—and I’m still strong and kicking. I can grin and bear it.”
“Fine, fine, my friend. That’s all we needed to know. Don’t worry—you did just what you were supposed to do.”
Maddi was dismissed, and went off to contemplate his dreams—and simple and innocent dreams they were, of that I’m certain. Sir Juffin glanced at Govins questioningly.
“The crones have been sent for. I hope they’ll all be found. They have the same sort of nomadic profession that you have. For the time being, I may be able to assist you myself, since the death of Nattis, that unfortunate young man, took place right under my nose.”
“That’s news to me! How did you manage that?”
“Such was the order of things. The boy was my ward. You see, Nattis wasn’t a servant in the house. An ordinary servant, that is. Two years ago he came to Echo from Gazhin. He arrived with a note from his grandfather, one of my oldest friends. The old man wrote that his grandson was an orphan, and was still wet behind the ears. The kind of knowledge he could pick up in Gazhin wasn’t much use here in Echo. But the boy was quick-witted—that was plain as day. My friend asked me to help his grandson in any way I could. Sir Makluk promised to give him the highest recommendation. He even intended to set him up with someone at the Court. You understand, it’s a real privilege to be offered a place at Court! But in the interim, I taught him to the best of my abilities. Believe me, I had just as much reason to praise him when he was still alive. Occasionally we gave him a Day of Freedom from Some Chores. On those days he wasn’t free to go off on his own, as he was on ordinary Days of Freedom, but stayed home. He was relieved of his duties, however, and was expected to live the life of a gentleman.”
At this point, I couldn’t repress a sigh of sympathy. Poor guy!
Govins interpreted my sigh in his own way, shook his head sadly, and continued: “What I mean is that if you wish to go far in life, you need know not only how to work, but also how to give orders. On those days, Nattis got up in the morning, called for a servant, bathed and groomed himself, dressed like a gentleman, ate like a gentleman, read the newspaper. Then he would go for a walk on the Right Bank, and there he also did his best to look like a young gentleman of the capital rather than a young upstart from Gazhin. And on those days he was permitted to use Sir Olli’s bedchamber—the poor bloke had just died when Nattis arrived and began his apprenticeship. The fellow would sleep in that bedroom, and in the morning would call for a servant—and the servant was me! The idea was not only to put on a charade, but to be able to observe all his shortcomings and mistakes, and so to correct them. In short, on those days I was inseparable from the lad, and this was both instructive and pleasant . . . So on that fateful morning, I answered his summons, as usual. I brought in the bath water. Of course, this was only a ceremonial ritual—there is a bathroom attached to the bedchamber. But a real gentleman begins his morning by demanding his rightful portion of warm water for a bath!”
At this point in the narrative I became a bit glum. I’d never become a “real gentleman”; and Sir Juffin wouldn’t either, I’m afraid. The finicky Sir Govins, in the meantime, went on with his story: “Nattis washed and went into the bathroom to shave. But the poor lad remembered all of a sudden how I had scolded him for this. As long as you’re god-knows-who, whether you shave in the bathroom or don’t bother to shave at all is no one’s business but your own. But if you’re a gentleman, you must shave in front of a proper looking glass! It turned out that my efforts hadn’t been for nought. The young chap came back into the room and very contritely requested a shaving kit. I feigned not to hear. Then he drew himself up, his eyes sparking—and I was there with the shaving kit and a towel, on the double! And then—how it could have happened, my mind simply cannot fathom. That a hale and hearty young fellow could cut his throat with a razor in a split second! I was standing a few steps away from him, as is the custom, with a towel and some balsam soap; but I had no time to do anything. I didn’t even realize what had happened . . . and what happened afterward! Well, you know as well as I do, if you’ve been trying to hush up this sorry affair.”
“You’re a wonderful raconteur, Mr. Govins!” Juffin nodded approvingly. “So I will with great satisfaction hear the ending of the story from your lips. I was, of course, very busy during those days. All I could manage to do (and it was enough for me!) was to pick up the ‘suicide file’ from the department of General Boboota Box, whose subordinates so pestered everyone in this house. I had no time to delve into the matter more deeply.”
The door opened, and fresh kamra was served to us. Govins cleared his throat, and resumed speaking. “There’s really nothing more to add. Of course, Sir Malkuk informed the House by the Bridge about what had happened. It was a straightforward case, so they sent it to General Box, Head of Public Order. Then his subordinates inundated our house—”
“Listen, Govins, maybe you can tell me. Did they check the level of magic present in the room?”
“It never even occurred to them. At first they thought it was all clear and simple: the man was drunk. When I told them that Nattis had never once been drunk in his whole short life, they decided again that it was all clear and simple: I had killed him. And then they just disappeared. As I understand, now, Sir Venerable Head, through your intercession.”
“How typical that is of Boboota’s boys,” Juffin groaned, clasping his hand to his forehead. “Sinning Magicians, how very typical!”
Our interlocutor remained tactfully silent.
Just then, three of the twelve wise crones arrived. It was revealed that six more of them were keeping watch over patients, two were simply nowhere to be found, and one old woman, according to the messenger, refused point-blank to return to “that black house.” She’s gone off her rocker, poor thing, I thought compassionately.
Juffin thought for a moment, then ordered all three of them at once to come in. I received a silent explanation about this from him:
And so the ladies entered the parlor and seated themselves ceremoniously at the table. The eldest was called Mallis. The two others, by no means young, were Tisa and Retani. I grew a bit sad. For the first time I was in the company of otherworldly ladies, and just my luck—the youngest of them was pushing 300!
Juffin’s behavior deserves separate commentary. First, he sculpted his face into the gloomiest frown that you can imagine. Then, in addition to the mournful expression of his physiognomy, the grannies were fated to witness him cover his eyes with the palm of his hand in a pathetic gesture, and further to hear the emotionally burdened recitative of his initial greeting. His intonations were wracked with a wailing of the spirit, more akin to the cadences of tragic drama than an interrogation. The order of his words and sentences started slipping around in the most peculiar way. Of course, in Echo one must address wisewomen with due respect and solemnity, as one would be expected to address a university professor in my homeland. In my opinion, however, Mr. Venerable Head went a little overboard. But my opinion would hardly have interested any of those present, which is why I modestly lowered my eyes and kept my mouth shut. Actually, I returned to my kamra, which I had clearly drunk too much of already, since it was there for the taking.
“Excuse my haste and the inconvenience I may have caused you, my wise ladies,” Juffin declaimed with lofty precision. “But without judicious counsel, my life has no meaning or purpose. I have heard that your wondrous powers were able to extend the measure of life of an inhabitant of this house, one who had lost the Spark, to a most remarkable degree.”
“Ah, yes; Olli, one of the young Makluks,” Tisa replied knowingly.
One of the
