Part 26 (1/2)
”Your valise is stealed in Aeshno?”
”Not exactly. But it's gone, and so I've been traveling for days without a change and I suppose, all things considered, that it pretty well serves me right, but it's getting pretty noisome, and I just couldn't stand it any longer, so I was ready to grab anything I could find, so long as it was clean clean-” She broke off, aware that she was babbling.
Probably Mesq'r Zavune understood no more than half of what she had said, for his brow was clouded as he repeated rea.s.suringly, ”Very pretty for you.”
”Thank you.” She drew a breath and collected herself. ”And you are looking very well, Master Zavune. You've made good time, since we disembarked in Aeshno.”
”Ah. Time. Yes.” He nodded. ”In Aennorve I am home, I am among many friends. Much they help me. I am gived use of carriage, good horses, to carry me comfortable to Quinnekevah. I am having easy time of it in Aennorve.”
”You must have enjoyed that.”
”Muchly. Truth, so muchly that I myself make difficult to fly along.”
”You mean, you were so happy to be home in Aennorve that it was hard for you to move on?” she translated.
”You have striked the nail. There in Aeshno I am with the Madame Zavune, the sons and small daughter Zavune. It is good but brief, so brief, and when do I see them all again?”
”Not so very long from now, I think. The race goes quickly.”
”Today it does not. I am here in station this morning, six o'clock sharp, for eastbound train Number 344, the Flying Goatherd Flying Goatherd, and it does not come. I wait. No train. I wait. Still no train, somebody clips that goatherd's wings. I wait past noon, and now I am waiting for next scheduled train, Number 682, Bizaqhi Bullet Bizaqhi Bullet, scheduled depart one P.M. P.M.”
”Yes, I'm waiting for the Bizaqhi Bullet Bizaqhi Bullet too.” too.”
”And waiting. And waiting. No train.”
So much the better, Luzelle thought. Had you caught that morning train, you'd be miles ahead of me now. Had you caught that morning train, you'd be miles ahead of me now. Aloud she said only, ”There is no help for it, unless you want to look for some other means of transportation.” Aloud she said only, ”There is no help for it, unless you want to look for some other means of transportation.”
”No, no. Train is best, when it come. If it come.”
”It will. All of these people”-her gesture encompa.s.sed the populous waiting room-”can't be wrong.”
”I hope it. I hope too for something to eat, before long. I am not eating since dawn, but I dare not go from here in search of food. What if Bizaqhi Bullet Bizaqhi Bullet hits station while I am gone?” hits station while I am gone?”
”I've got raisins. Would you like some?”
”Miss D'vaire, you are G.o.ddess of mercy.”
They walked on together. As they went, he consumed two packets of her raisins and a handful of blifilnuts. Conversation was agreeable, if labored, centering largely upon amusing or appalling recent experiences. She told him about the claynester ambush in the Iyecktori village, he told her of the outrageously crooked innkeeper along the Eastwest High Road. She had grown used to his thick accent, his fractured syntax, and his speech was increasingly comprehensible. The better she understood, the more clearly she perceived his longing for home, and once again she thought, Poor fellow, he shouldn't be here. Poor fellow, he shouldn't be here.
They walked on through clouds of somebody's foul cigar smoke, and she wondered if they might step outdoors into comparatively fresh air, if only for a moment. Her eyes jumped to the main doorway, and her breath caught.
Mesq'r Zavune followed her gaze. ”Ah,” he murmured sadly. ”Surprise.”
Two fellow Ellipsoids had caught up with them. Girays v'Alisante and Karsler Stornzof walked into Quinnekevah Station together. Side by side, in fact.
Karsler? Here? He should have been miles ahead by now, half a world ahead. What could have delayed him, how could he be here now? And with Girays v'Alisante, of all people? Here? He should have been miles ahead by now, half a world ahead. What could have delayed him, how could he be here now? And with Girays v'Alisante, of all people?
They couldn't have been traveling in company. Girays, who disliked Grewzians, would never voluntarily spend time or share s.p.a.ce with Karsler Stornzof. Their simultaneous arrival was surely coincidental.
It did not look coincidental. They were hurrying straight for the ticket window, and they were talking as they went. She could not begin to imagine the conversational topic, but Girays said something to which Karsler responded with a nod and a smile, and it all seemed very sociable indeed.
They were, she mused inconsequentially, dissimilar in almost every way; externally, at least. She willed herself not to stare.
”We give greeting?” Zavune inquired.
”What? Oh-later, perhaps,” she replied. She found herself curiously uncertain. She would not have hesitated to approach either Karsler or Girays individually-in fact, she would have welcomed the chance-but confronting both at once seemed indefinably awkward. ”I've walked enough, haven't you? Let's sit down.”
He nodded, and they found s.p.a.ce on one of the benches at the rear of the room. She risked a covert glance at the ticket window, where Girays and Karsler stood engaged in some sort of exchange with the cas.h.i.+er. He was probably telling them in Bizaqhi that the trains were running endless hours behind schedule, and they did not understand him, but they would figure it out soon enough. They had not yet noticed her presence, and she was content to remain invisible for the moment.
Mesq'r Zavune was saying something or other, and she would never understand if she didn't concentrate. She turned back to him with a smile, waited while he laboriously constructed some polite query about her last series of lectures, and replied graciously. Innocuous conversation ensued. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Girays and Karsler seat themselves. Together. Very strange.
The skies visible through the dusty station window darkened, and the stars appeared. The lamps in the waiting room were lit, and presently the big clock on the wall chimed the hour of eight. Dinnertime, and she was more than ready. Reaching into her carpetbag, she groped in vain for a packet of raisins, a handful of nuts, or an apple. Not an edible morsel remained.
”I eat all your foods?” Zavune correctly interpreted her look of regret. ”This is bad of me.”
”Not at all. I'm not really hungry,” she lied. Her stomach growled a contradiction.
”This is bad of me,” Zavune repeated. ”I must to try to repair.”
”No, really-”
”Wait, please.” He turned away to face his left-hand neighbor, another of those large, linen-capped Iyecktori women.
Luzelle could not make out what he was saying to the Iyecktori. Probably he did not speak her language, but Zavune was not letting that stop him, and the exchange appeared animated. No scowling disapproval or insults directed at him him, she noticed. A man was allowed to travel alone, without compromise of respectability. n.o.body minded his his uncovered hair. In fact, the Iyecktori was beaming a soupy, maternal, gap-toothed smile, the kind of expression usually directed at adorable urchins or gamboling puppies. Now she was reaching into the wicker hamper on the floor before her to bring forth a couple of napkin-wrapped bundles, which she pressed upon him. And when he attempted to give her money, she shook her head, handed him another little bundle, and actually patted his cheek. It was revolting, really. uncovered hair. In fact, the Iyecktori was beaming a soupy, maternal, gap-toothed smile, the kind of expression usually directed at adorable urchins or gamboling puppies. Now she was reaching into the wicker hamper on the floor before her to bring forth a couple of napkin-wrapped bundles, which she pressed upon him. And when he attempted to give her money, she shook her head, handed him another little bundle, and actually patted his cheek. It was revolting, really.
But she changed her mind when Zavune turned back to face her, unknotted the napkins, and invited her to share the contents, which included stuffed grape leaves, an herb loaf, and dried apricots. She ate, and her mood improved.
Thereafter conversation lagged and time stretched. She would have given worlds for a book or newspaper, but there was none. Finally-bored with waiting, tired of sitting, and sick to death of Quinnekevah Station-she closed her eyes against surrounding sights and promptly fell asleep, sitting there upright on the hard wooden bench.
A hum of voices and a stir of movement woke her. Luzelle opened her eyes. Her head was resting against Mesq'r Zavune's shoulder. He was asleep, his cheek pressing her hair. She drew back, and the disengagement awakened him. All around them people were rising from the benches and moving toward the departure gate. Evidently the train had arrived. Her eyes sought the clock. She blinked. The time was 2:11 A.M. A.M. Disgraceful. Disgraceful.
Stifling a yawn, she stood. Zavune did likewise. She scanned the room, and was instantly wide awake. For there, not forty feet distant, dark-bearded head towering above the crowd, Bav Tchornoi was pus.h.i.+ng aggressively for the exit. He must have entered the station while she slept. Her eyes wandered on almost unwillingly, to light too soon upon the insistently splendiferous figure of Porb Jil Liskjil, whose jewelry caught and bounced the lamplight. And not only Jil Liskjil. For there was the Strellian physician, Dr. Phineska, one of the Grand Ellipse racers whose chances of victory she had dismissed at the start. And there was that Kyrendtish blueblood, the one with the protruding ears and the stammer-Founne Hay-Frinl. She had not caught sight of Hay-Frinl since Lanthi Ume, and had thought him eliminated from the compet.i.tion long ago. Yet here he was. The night was full of unwelcome surprises.
Sighing, she picked up her carpetbag and made for the exit. Zavune walked beside her. They went out onto the platform, and there was the train, venting steam, and there were the scores of long-delayed travelers scrambling to climb aboard. The compet.i.tion was intense, and many ticket holders were actually shoving or elbowing one another.
Wretched manners, thought Luzelle, and quickly remembered to amend, Different customs, different outlook. Not necessarily inferior, just different. Different customs, different outlook. Not necessarily inferior, just different. But it didn't mean she had to like them. But it didn't mean she had to like them.
She and Zavune went politely to the end of the amorphous line, there to wait their turn in decent western fas.h.i.+on. They boarded at last, and the source of pa.s.senger rivalry revealed itself. The train was full to bursting, and all the seats were taken. Along the aisles they stumbled, enc.u.mbered with their luggage, through car after car, and everywhere they went the seats were occupied, sometimes doubly so, with children sleeping across their parents' laps, and cages of live birds wedged in between seated bodies.
As they neared the back of the train, the aisles clogged up with the displaced unfortunates, forced to sit or recline atop their own baggage. A whistle screeched, the train pulled out of Quinnekevah Station, and progress waxed problematic. The third time she tripped over some anonymous rec.u.mbent form, Luzelle balked.
”Enough,” she said.
”Of-?” Zavune prompted.
”Staggering around. There are no seats left. I'm staying here.” She let fall her carpetbag.
”You give up, then?”
”I certainly do. On finding a vacant seat, that is.”