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“If you’re late again, we will leave you to bake in the desert!” Groki spat at him.
Uni nodded, trying to remember if there were any deserts in Virilan and what, now that he thought of it, the landscape and weather conditions were like. His place – at the far-left in the last row – spoke to his lowly status. The men standing near him turned to look at him before turning away in indifference. In the center of the front row, Uni spied Sanery’s extraordinary ears. The ambassador had heard his name announced and turned around to give him a slight but friendly smile. Uni was embarrassed, but reflected that a smile was better than nothing. The rest of the delegation ignored him, to his relief. The young diplomat stared at the men around him and soaked up the atmosphere of overblown formality.
The palace square was situated between the Emperor’s Residence, where the Great Lord lived, and the Cathedral of Light, which was the Empire’s most important religious building. Educated Herandians loved to argue about the proper relationship between religious and secular authority. On the one hand, the Empire’s subjects were exceedingly religious, referring to the Heavenly Deity early and often, in everything from market gossip to official documents. On the other hand, most people’s beliefs went no deeper than these words and the occasional attendance at a ritual. Judging by the prominent works of imperial art, the Empire was founded with the protection of the Heavenly Deity, and the Emperor was merely his steward. As the official imperial terminology put it, he was a servant like all the other subjects. In reality, however, the Empire’s religious leaders had so little influence on government matters that they were not considered a political force. Priests of the Sun were content with their many privileges and high salaries (paid each year by the treasury), and they rarely raised their voices unless the issue concerned their own internal affairs, which were always in a foul tangle.
Some people saw this as a sign of the inherent practicality of Herandians, while others complained that the government had drawn too close to the Cult of the Sun and strangled it in its embrace. The Emperor generally played the main role in the most important religious rites throughout the year, but he led the government on the basis of the law, the bureaucracy, and the army, not as a high priest, as was the custom in Mustobrim.
The Cathedral of Light reflected the fate of the religion underlying it. Built of granite and marble under Norius to host all manner of government ceremonies, it was soon competing with the imperial bureaucracy and the Great Lord’s Chambers. By the time of Uni’s story, delegations always left from the Palace Square, which represented a balance between the religious and secular centers of power. Coronations, funerals, and rituals associated with the solar cycle were still held in the Cathedral, so the priests still felt very much in the game. They would have retained the right to send off delegations, too, if it weren’t for an irritating footnote in the law governing official ceremonies that allowed diplomatic missions to leave from the Palace Square, provided that the weather was fine, because it was a shorter walk from the square to the river dock. The footnote was criticized by many for stooping to mention the weather and the walking distance, but it remained in force nonetheless.
Unlike his mother, Uni had never been particularly devout. He enjoyed the splendor of church services but secretly sympathized with the teachings of a sect of learned men who held that the sun could be worshipped for its life-giving rays without any need for cathedrals and priests. All one had to do, they taught, was rise at dawn, go to bed at sundown, and work hard in between. His job at the archive had kept Uni out of the sun for most of his young life, and he was especially glad on this day to part ways with his private fear that he would spend his best years shut away in a dank basement. He looked around at the sunlit square like a kitten that had just opened its eyes, nervous at first, but growing in confidence.
The crowd in the square was getting increasingly impatient. Uni sympathized. When would everything begin?
“Don’t squirm,” Groki barked from somewhere behind him. Or was he hearing things? Uni wanted to turn around and look, but suddenly a pure, deep tone rang out over the square. It was the Great Cathedral Gong, and the sound of its note penetrated deep in the heads and chests of all present. Even Uni’s nervous stomach was vibrating. It was time!
The sound of the gong melted in the mid-morning sun, leaving behind a light hum that did not dissipate, but instead grew stronger and stronger until it sounded like the droning of bees. Uni realized it was the sound of voices. Inside the Cathedral tower, a choir of children was singing the Hymn to the Sun. Uni’s head turned like a swivel. He couldn’t shake himself of the illusion that the singing was coming from the sky. Soon he heard the stronger voices of the older boys, and after a while they were joined by the powerful voices of the adult men. Uni knew the words of the ancient hymn by heart, which was always sung in the language of pre-imperial Herandia. He had always admired the hymn as a historical relic, but now he heard it with new emotion. This time, he did not find the pomp and spectacle amusing. Touched, and feeling serious, he looked away from the Cathedral roof just in time to see the most important moment unfold.
A long red and orange carpet had been rolled down the shining marble staircase in front of the palace. On both sides of the carpet, two lines of Imperial Guards descended the stairs in parallel lines. Covered head to toe in armor that shone with gold and copper, they stepped in perfect time down the stairs until they reached the polished granite of the square. The shining discs on their helmets all disappeared from view at once when the two lines turned to face each other and each warrior struck the ground with his spear. Then they froze, two living walls stretching from the square to the Heavenly Throne, that symbol of the Herandian monarchs that was without equal anywhere in the world.
According to legend, the throne was made from a single piece of sky-blue lazurite. By design, it was too large for even the tallest man to sit on, so the Emperor sat on a small pillow on top of the throne’s footrest. A large jewel was embedded in the back of the throne (perhaps a topaz or a diamond, Uni had heard several versions of the story).
The gong rang out again, and the singing grew louder. Now, the singing came from all sides of the great square. Priests in yellow, orange and red robes carrying banners of the Sun stood around the edge of the square. Their voices came together in a single current that overcame all who heard it. Again, Uni swiveled his head back and forth to see everything and almost missed the next event.
Just in time, he noticed that the crowd around the throne had grown. Dressed in elegant robes, shining cuirasses, or the red garments of the priests of the Sun, they were all part of the Imperial Council, which was the highest authority in the land and comprised 24 of its most influential and respected men. Uni had always suspected that most of them, despite their grand titles, had little to do with the actual process of determining the Empire’s policies and fates. The full council met rarely, and only for official events. It was said that the Emperor occasionally consulted with members of the council at large, but that most affairs were managed by the small circle of council members whom Uni had already seen. As he watched the members, he saw Licisium Dorgoe listening politely to someone he couldn’t see because he was hidden by another member’s golden armor. Just then, the crowd shifted, the owner of the armor took a step to one side, and Uni saw who Dorgoe was talking to: it was Manelius Ronko, dressed in a fashionably fitted, snow-white robe with a bright purple stripe down the middle. He was telling Dorgoe something with great animation when the large man suddenly took a step back, put his hands on his chest, and shook with rumbling laughter.
“May the Sun scorch me, would you look at that!” Uni thought with a prickling of envy. His eyes landed on another figure. “I wonder who that is? All the soldiers are wearing shining helmets. The one with long, dark hair must be Necium Tameto. He’s violating the dress code, but no one seems to notice. Those nobles don’t dare say a word to the man who protects the northern border!”
Tameto glanced around haughtily at his fellow officers. Uni recognized a few of them: Enritel Narzey, the commander of the Southern Fleet, Rarocium Hanmo, whose forces guarded Capotia and kept an eye on the Arincils, and Dergedium Lami, who often had to beat back the barbarians of Torgendam. He had heard rumors of money budgeted to repair ships that later disappeared without a trace. He had also heard that the Empire’s foot soldiers wore torn uniforms and were sometimes ”leased” into slavery, where they were glad to be given three square meals a day. He had no warm feelings for Tameto, but his seven-thousand-strong cavalry was considered the best trained in the entire Imperial Army, and its men had an irrational, dog-like loyalty to their brave leader. Uni assumed that the palace bureaucracy put up with the sad state of the rest of the army because it had been twenty years since the last war with the Torgs, the fearsome Arincils were far away, and only the northern border was ever breached by disorganized bands of Sotray nomads. And yet Tameto had left his men behind to take part in the luxury and intrigue of the capital, where backstabbing and infighting made up most of the officers’ combat experience. His interest obviously went beyond protocol. The man turned his hooked nose, and for an instant Uni feared that the scourge of the northern barbarians would strike him where he stood. Oh Heavenly Deity, my imagination is playing tricks on me!
The atmosphere of anticipation was electric, as if a storm was gathering its forces to rain down on the noblemen’s heads. Uni had been told what would happen, but he was completely unprepared for the experience of seeing it. He turned to the column of Norius and saw that the Founder’s hands where shining with a blue light – that was the effect of quartz-coated bronze mirrors on the hands that shone blue when they caught the sunlight. The effect was a stunning reminder of how Norius had been blessed by the Heavenly Deity when he founded the Herandian Empire four hundred years before. The flames in Norius’ hands flickered with the colors of the rainbow and shone in gold sparks. It was a sight to behold! Uni held his breath. The rainbow light reflected down on the delegation, himself included. Suddenly, he realized how wonderful the sight must be for the people in the crowd, where his mother and his friends stood. His heart filled with a warm joy. He would have liked to look for them in the crowd, but just then, Norius’ palms turned towards each other. A ray of sun shot out from between them and fell on the Imperial Palace, as if Norius were sharing the Deity’s power with his successor!
The ray of light fell on the throne, and the crystal embedded in it lit up with a blinding burst that made everyone squint. Uni had been looking in that direction to see what would happen next, and he slapped his hands over his eyes. The light from the throne was so bright that it made him dizzy, and the white spots on the backs of his eyelids pulsed with the rhythm of his racing heart. He heard the people around him cry out in amazement and fall to their knees. For the first time in his life, he followed along with everyone else. His only thought was a fear of going blind, and there was something comforting about the crowd and knowing that they were all equal in the face of the Heavenly Deity’s immeasurable power.
The people around him were whispering, but Uni kept his head down and his eyes closed until he heard a deep voice from up above him call out “Most diligent servant of the Heavenly Deity, protector of his people, tireless guardian of everything under the skies, His Majesty the Emperor of Herandia Kergenius!”
Seated at the foot of the great throne in a robe that sparkled with all the colors of the rainbow was the man whose name was spoken with awe throughout the Empire and in all of Dashtornis. Every Herandian knew that the true honor and praise were due to the Sun, however, and at just that moment the fire of its eye on the throne was subdued, leaving nothing but a faint golden glow around the Emperor’s head.
“You are not bowing to me, but to our Lord. I am merely the most diligent of his servants!” Uni recalled the words spoken by Norius. Centuries had passed, but the ceremony remained unchanged, and it still made people quiver in amazement.
Later, Uni could never remember exactly what the Emperor said during the ceremony. There was something about the Empire’s unshakeable foundations, its great mission to support harmony and peace in the world, and the Emperor’s own duty to ensure the prosperity of his subjects. Uni’s whole being was concentrated on the glowing light around the throne. The man standing before him was not the same man who had spoken kindly to him just the other day; no, he was the steward of the Heavenly Deity! If he could have seen himself, Uni probably would have laughed at his enthusiasm. As it was, he stood motionless, staring at the glowing crystal on the throne, all other thoughts and concerns carried away as if by a river. If he had paid attention, he would have found things to add to the Emperor’s statement of the usefulness of initiating diplomatic and trade relations with the Virilans based on “mutual respect and sincere trust on the part of both parties.” And he would have been interested to hear that the Empire was destined to bring the Heavenly Deity’s light to the world, specifically to Virilan, “like opening the windows in an old house to let the sunshine and fresh air in.” But he did not pay attention, only waking from his happy daydream when the sounds of a march reached his ears and a wave of commotion swept through the rows of people around him.
Ontius Sanery left the delegation and, ears at the ready, swept up the grand staircase with a dignity that came from decades of government service. Trumpets sounded when the ambassador reached the foot of the throne. Uni expected to see him bow, but Sanery suddenly turned his back to the emperor and spread his arms wide. From behind, a strange object – part helmet, part mask – was lowered onto his head. Once Uni got a clear view of it, he saw that the object was a lightweight frame made of gold wire. The sky above the square fell silent as everyone waited for the culmination of the ceremony.
“Ontius Sanery, Steward, second class, are you prepared to bear the Great Lord’s will to the leader and the people of Virilan?”
Uni could not see who was speaking, but it seemed to be the Emperor.
“The Lord’s will is like the light of his eyes: it is the same for all of us and a source of joy for each! There is no choice but to obey. Our freedom is in his will!”
“Ontius Sanery, are you prepared to speak for the Great Lord in Virilan?”
“I am ready!” the ambassador intoned after a decent pause. Two priests did something with their hands in front of his face. When they stepped back, Uni saw that a golden mouthpiece had been affixed to the mask on his head, large enough to be visible from the last rows.
“Ontius Sanery, are you prepared to be the Great Lord’s ears in Virilan?”
“I am!” Golden ears were affixed to the mask.
“Ontius Sanery, are you prepared to be the Great Lord’s eyes in Virilan?”
“I am!” Uni murmured to himself. A sliver of envy began to prickle him in a far corner of his heart. How he would have liked to be the first ambassador to that strange country and to be hailed as the one who opened it for Herandia! It was the world of his dreams – why had it been given to someone else? Uni felt like he was at a wedding where his best friend had stolen his bride and the only role left for him was as the groom’s best man. Why was life so unfair, even at joyous moments like this? Was it trying to show Uni his proper place? Yes, he knew his place.
I just want too much, he thought. “I’ve already been given a fantastic opportunity. Or is this a dream inside a dream?” His forehead went cold and he shivered. I must keep my imagination in check and praise the Sun for taking notice of me. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
In a flash, Uni felt that he was willing to pray to anyone’s God if only this tiny sprout of success would continue to grow and eventually bear fruit.
Meanwhile, Sanery had descended the stairs to the booming strains of a march. He had not looked the least bit ridiculous in his symbolic mask, and now he carefully carried a scroll. Uni knew that such scrolls usually enumerated the powers of the delegation and contained a greeting to the leaders of other states. As always, he had missed the moment when the scroll was handed to Sanery because he was daydreaming about his own glory.
He shook himself. “I really have to start paying attention! This isn’t the archive. I need to keep my eyes and eyes open at all times.”
When he reached the square, Sanery gestured for the delegation to follow him. In the pushing and shoving that followed, Uni tried to get closer to the head of the procession, but his neighbors used their elbows to keep him where he belonged. All he could do was give his body up to the stream of people slowly making their way through the streets toward the riverbank, singing hymns as they went. When they finally reached the river, Uni saw that the ambassador’s ship was at the dock. His attempts to find his mother or his friends in the crowd following the delegation were unsuccessful.
As he turned his head from side to side, something heavy came down on his shoulder. He spun around and saw the closed helmet of a palace guard. The helmet leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Enel Virando? Follow me. You are expected.”
“Already? Am I permitted to leave the line?” Uni had lots of questions, but his intuition told him to let it go. As he followed the guard through the noisy crowd, he felt like a criminal until the guard stepped aside and he saw Manelius Ronko standing in a niche in the side of one of the buildings. He was grinning like a cat.
“Most honorable Enel Ronko, I am pleased to see you!” and Uni did his best impression of the long form of Herandian courtly greeting.
The Emperor’s advisor nodded with satisfaction and slapped him on the shoulder. “As I am to see you, my friend! I was disappointed that you ignored my advice about avoiding wine, but I was equally delighted that you made such a fast recovery after that terrible unpleasantness. You are well now, I hope?”
“Yes, Enel Ronko!” Uni tried to look like he imagined a hopeful young civil servant would look. “It was just a dinner with friends. And I’m absolutely fine now.”
“I’m glad to hear it! I was going to give you some final advice, and then I thought better of it. Anything I could tell you would be empty words. You are the one who bears the responsibility from now on. It was my job to find you, and now that the Emperor has chosen you, my job is over.” He leaned forward with a serious face. “That, Uni, is the best way to manage people. Do not tell them what to do – simply help each one find his place. Do you agree?”
“Of course, Enel Ronko. You know more about it than I ever would.”
“Perhaps,” and the man laughed softly. “Is there anything else you want to say to me, Interpreter?”
“I don’t know.” Uni floundered for a second. “Although there is one thing you might want to know. When you took me to the Emperor’s chambers, I saw someone there. He looked like an Arincil. At least, that’s what it seemed to me. That’s all I know. I thought it might be useful to you, but perhaps you already knew about it…” his voice trailed off.
Ronko’s attention was aroused. “Wait. Did you say an Arincil? Are you sure about it?”
“I’ve never seen one in person before, but he looked exactly the way they are described in books. Tall, copper skin, a hooked nose…”
“I see. Thank you for telling me. Do you know anything else about it?”
Uni briefly recounted what he had seen in the back room at the palace, wondering what role his crumb of information might play.
Ronko nodded, deep in thought. “Good. I’ll make use of that. And now,” he said, “it is time for you to go. Your delegation is moving like a regiment of tortoises, but eventually they will miss you.” Then he gave a wide smile that Uni had never seen on him before. He shuddered, but Ronko just winked. “No fear. I have a gift for you. Consider it my thanks for your quick eye.” The imperial advisor leaned over him and held out something with two fingers.
“A ring?” Uni asked, wide-eyed.
“That is correct.” Ronko turned it so Uni could see it from all sides. Then he took Uni by the hand and dropped it in his palm. “Keep this as a talisman of your success on this mission. And wear it in good health.”
“Thank you!”
The ring was smooth in his hand. It almost felt alive, as if made out of some magic stone rather than metal.
“I’ll need to find a leather cord to tie it around my neck,” Uni thought. For the time being, he slipped the ring on his finger. It fit perfectly.
“Just you look at that!” Ronko declared in surprise. “With a fit like that, it must be your fate to wear the ring.” He smiled again, this time with a blend of understanding and even melancholy in his eyes.
Later, as he followed the rest of the delegation onto the ship, Uni couldn’t shake the memory of that smile. He had a feeling that Ronko could see the future and knew what awaited them all. The man wore his smile like a mask because he was burdened with knowledge. It all made sense.
As he stood on deck, it dawned on Uni that he was a pawn in a very complicated game – or even a whole series of games with an unknown number of players – but that he was, nonetheless, a very valuable pawn. It was a risky position, to be sure, but it was also his door to real life. Later, when he thought back to that day, he was only sorry that he had not managed to see his mother one more time or waved to his friends. As the ship pushed away from the dock and started to drift down the broad Fela, Unizel Virando looked away from the banks of the world he had always known and turned his eyes to the bow, from which he expected to greet a new world, a new calling, and a chance at a better life.
Hey there, life! Here you are, carrying me along like the river carries this vessel, and the riverbed itself, in turn, is formed by the hills and the mountains, and those… well, something takes care of those as well. What is the essence of all things being under the Heavenly Deity? How does one even figure it all out? How does one see the world in a droplet of water? Or rise above being that droplet? Hello, Fate! Hello, Good Fortune! Let’s get to know each other!
* * *
The icy cold water tumbling from the artificial waterfalls cooled the air pleasingly. Red, green, and blue lamps hanging in the trees flickered invitingly from the dark woods. Young girls dressed as river fairies sang and danced on small islands to the enchanting music of sitars and flutes. A carved wooden boat with a canopy in the style popular in Ulin was drawn downstream by small canoes shaped like seahorses. Enel Dorgoe was slowly gliding along the winding canals that surrounded his villa, his large body arranged on soft pillows. His left hand held a cup that was made of green glass and filled with sweet Perian wine. Eyes closed, one of the most influential courtiers of the Herandian Empire enjoyed a relaxing moment while making his plans for the morrow.
“Master! Master!” came the voice of Huraria Zhoslo, his butler. The man was jogging along the bank to keep up with Dorgoe’s boat, all the while attempting to bow. “Please accept my apologies for intruding on Your Excellency’s peace and quiet!”
Dorgoe hated to be bothered when he meditated in the evening, but he felt it was his duty to be available to handle important matters. “Come here, my friend” he held out a hand to his servant.
Zhoslo, dressed as he was in an embroidered silver and dark brown robe, jumped into the canal and, up to his waist in water, made a heroic effort to keep up with the boat as it drifted further and further away.
He looks like a bear trying to swim, Dorgoe thought. “I see that you have something important for me,” he said with a smile.
“Yes, Master!” Zhoslo cried out, gasping for air. “Our guest has left the capital and is on his way to the Great Expanse. We have successfully…ensured the confidentiality…of the mission!”
“I am glad to hear it,” Dorgoe nodded and took a sip of wine. “You may hold onto the edge of my boat. I see you are tired out.”
“Thank you, Master!” Zhoslo gasped and wrapped his hands around a carved sturgeon on the boat’s port side, hanging there like a piece of eel grass.
Dorgoe set his cup on a small table with three thin legs, scratched his fat chin with his thumb, and sank into deep thought. It had been no small feat getting the Arincil out of the capital without mishap. But it would be utter foolishness on his part (and he knew it) to assume that his enemies would remain blind to his plans until the whole business was finished.
“Tell Asp,” he turned and rested his left elbow on a soft velvet cushion so he could better see Zhoslo, “that he will answer to me personally for the success of the operation. Personally, do you hear?”
“Right away, Master!” Zhoslo nodded emphatically. “I hope that he is still worthy of your faith in him!”
Dorgoe snorted, setting his cheeks aquiver. The man splashing in the water was the kind of servant who, if shown a chest containing his master’s darkest secret, would dust it every day without even the slightest desire to open it. The de facto minister of foreign affairs reflected that the best protection was often offered by the narrowest mind. Zhoslo had no clue that the small war that would result if the Jaguar returned home (and which Herandia would have to lose) would help Dorgoe discredit the Imperial Army, one of the few institutions that had so far resisted his hairy paws. If things went according to plan, he might be able to replace certain figures with his own people. But no, it was too early to think of that!
His mind returned to what Zhoslo had said about his faith in Asp. “Everyone makes mistakes,” he smiled. “And perhaps it was not a mistake after all. In any case, we have a backup plan. The most important thing is that no one suspect my involvement if the whole thing falls apart. Make sure Asp sends the key witnesses into the Shadows. I think Tameto is entirely too fond of his little men!”
“Yes, Master!” the butler bowed, accidentally putting his face in the water. “Shall I go?”
“Yes,” Dorgoe mumbled. “Would you like some wine?” he suddenly asked, holding up a metal pitcher made in Mustobrim.
“I thank you for your generosity, but I am not worthy of it!”
“Of course. And you still have to swim back. If I get you drunk and you drown, what would I do without you? Now get going!”
Struggling in his wet robe, Zhoslo stumbled along the sandy bottom toward the bank.
The star Utaru in the constellation of the Thief had been watching the whole scene from behind a cloud and winked dryly.
Part II. Blind Nobility
Chapter 1. How to Have Adventures
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Of course it is.”
The two friends had stopped by the same place many days in a row, but only now was their persistence rewarded.
“I remember his face,” drawled Sorgius, rubbing his fingertips together comically. “Look at him smiling like a reflection in a bad mirror!”
The face of the dandy in a purple robe with gold embroidery who sat two tables away from them really did look like a flattened reflection in a crude mirror, the kind made by Torgendam craftsmen trying to imitate the work of masters from Capotia or the Empire’s central provinces. The effect was intensified by his hair, which was swept up and back in the latest style.
“I bet that haystack would burn if we touched a spark to it,” sniggered Sorgius.
“Only if absolutely necessary,” Vordius replied. “Here I go.”
“Patience, brother,” Sorgius stopped him. “Talking is my specialty. Sit still and watch the expert at work!”
Song of the Star had a dubious reputation among Enteveria’s taverns, and not just because it was frequented by people who earned their living by the knife. In the many years since the popular tavern had opened, no one had ever figured out what drew people to it: the food, the drink, the dancing, the easy women, or the wafting scent of aromatic weeds being smoked? At Song of the Star, family men and their wives sat next to arrogant toughs from the port discussing business affairs that lay most decidedly outside the law, all to the vulgar laughter of courtesans with kohled eyes and rouged cheeks. In this atmosphere, strangers often found themselves on friendly terms, and Sorgius used that fact to his advantage as he moved in on his target.
“Hello, old friend! You haven’t been here in ages. What are you drinking?” He eyed the man’s cup. “Never mind.” He caught the eye of a server and gestured confidently. “Waiter! Bring us a jug of Tasquilian dry!” And then, with a grin, he turned back to the stranger, who was now on his guard. “No worries, it’s on me.” The two young women who had been sitting with the man smiled brightly at Sorgius and waited to see what would happen next.
“I want to drink the health of these lovely ladies, so we must have the best wine!” he announced to his new friends. Two of the three smiled.
“Tasquilian is worth the money,” the man drawled as he put an arm around each young woman, “but we prefer dark Vuravian grapes.”
“Of course, I remember,” Sorgius leaned back in his chair, looking delighted. “You drank something like that two weeks ago. That was the time you were here with that little redhead. The one that came over and joined me later.” There was steel in his smile now.
“What little redhead? Asked the woman on the left. Her voice was deep and impressive, like her cleavage.
“I have no idea what he’s going on about,” the dandy tried to look indifferent. He attempted to change the subject back to wine. “I’m surprised you like Tasquilian. It knocks you off your feet.”
The young women laughed again, but this time awkwardly.
“Don’t you remember?” Sorgius pressed on, crossing his legs and staring down his adversary. “Her name was Fenia. Or was it Fellia? She told me all kinds of things about you. For example…”
“That’s enough!” cried his victim. “We weren’t bothering you. Why don’t you find another table? There are plenty of empty ones.”
“Oh, don’t get all riled up. I just want the address of that little redhead. She got me three sheets to the wind that night and then up and disappeared before I could get to know her better. You understand!”
