“I do not come here every night,” said Lefaun with dignity. “I often go to the Spasm, or to Mopo’s or the Convolvulus. In any case, why go elsewhere, since here is the focus of human intelligence?”
"So it may be," said Wayness. She ate the cabbage rolls, which she found tolerable, and drank a pint of beer.
Patrons of the cafe began to arrive in force. Some were Lefaun s acquaintances and joined him at the table. Wayness was introduced to more folk than she could Remember: Fedor, who hypnotized birds; the sisters Euphrosyne and Eodoxia; Big Wuf and Little Wuf; Hortense who cast bells; Dagleg who spoke only what he called ‘Immanences’ and Marya, a sexual therapist who, according to Lefaun, had many interesting stories to tell. “If you need advice along these lines, I will call her over and you can ask whatever you like."
"Not just now, “said Wayness. “What I don’t know are things I don’t want to know.”
“Hmf. I see.”
The bistro became full; all the tables were occupied. Wayness presently told Lefaun: “I have been listening carefully, but so far I have heard no conversion except that of people commenting upon their food."
“The hour is early,” said Lefaun. “In due course there will be talk enough.” He nudged Wayness with his elbow. “For instance, take note of Alexei who stands yonder.” Wayness, turning her head, saw a portly young man with a round face, yellow hair cut short to a bristle and a short pointed beard.
“Alexei is unique,” said Lefaun. “He lives poetry, and thinks poetry, and dreams poetry, and presently he will recite poetry. But you will not understand him, since poetry, or so he claims, is such an intimate revelation that he uses terms intelligible only to himself."
“I discovered that,” said Wayness. “I heard him speak a moment ago and could understand not a word.”
"Of course not. Alexei has created a language of a hundred and twelve thousand words controlled by an elaborate syntax. This tongue, so he claims, is sensitive and flexible, superbly adapted to the expression of metaphors and allusions. It is a pity that no one can enjoy it along with Alexei, but he refuses to translate a single word."
Wayness said: "It may be all for the best, especially if his poetry is bad.”
"Possibly so. He has been accused of both narcissism and ostentation, but he is never offended. It is the typical artist, so he declares, who is mad for acclaim and whose self-esteem depends upon adulation. Alexei sees himself as a lonely man, indifferent to both praise and censure."
Wayness craned her neck. "He is now playing the concertina and dancing a jig, all at the same time. What do you make of that?"
“It is just Alexei in one of his moods; it means nothing." He called across the room. "Hoy there, Lefaun! Where Have you been?”
"I am fresh down from Suzdal, and glad to be back."
“Naturally! At Suzdal the intellectual climate is as stiff as the weather.”
“True. Their best and almost only resort is a place called Janinka's Bistro, where I had a strange experience.”
“Tell us about it, but first, would you like a glass of beer?"
“Certainly.”
“Perhaps Wayness will buy a flask for us both.”
"No, I think not.”
Lefaun gave a dismal groan. “I will go presently to make my own purchases – unless someone makes an offer. What of you, Lixman?”
“If you recall, it was you who made the proffer to me.”
“Yes, I remember now. What was it you were telling us about Suzdal?”
“While I sat at Janinka’s I met a woman who told me that I was accompanied everywhere by the spirit of my grandmother, who was anxious to help me. At the time I was playing at dice, and I said: “Very well, Grandmother, how shall I bet?” ‘She says to bet on the double three!’ came the answer. So I bet on the double three and won the stake, I looked around for another hint, but the lady was gone, and now I am unsure and nervous. I dare do nothing of which my grandmother might disapprove.”
“That is a curious state of affairs," said Lefaun. “Wayness, what is your advice?"
"I should think that if your grandmother were tactful, she would allow you a few moments of privacy from time to time, especially if you brought the matter up in a respectful fashion.”
"I can suggest nothing better," said Lefaun.
“I will give the matter thought,” said Lixman and went off across the room.
Lefaun rose to his feet. “It seems that I must buy beer, after all. Wayness, your flask is empty; what of you?"
Wayness shook her head. “The evening is getting on and I must leave Kiev early tomorrow I can find my own way back to the hotel.”
Lefaun’s mouth drooped open and his black eyebrows jerked high. “What of the information you wanted? And what of the twenty sols?”
Wayness forced herself to meet the darkling gaze. “I have been trying to tell you without using the words ‘swindler’ or ‘scoundrel’. At noon I would have had no qualms, but now I am dreary and apathetic; today I blurted out everything I knew to my uncle. A man named Julian Bohost was listening and the consequences may be tragic!”
“Now I understand Julian is the swindler and the scoundrel."
"Agreed! But in this case I was referring to you.”
Again Lefaun was taken aback. “How so?”
"Because you tried to sell me information you could have had in two minutest"
"Hah! The indications were obvious enough. But facts are facts and guesses are guesses. For which will you pay out your money?"
“Neither! I found the information by myself.”
Lefaun seemed more puzzled than perturbed. “I am surprised that it took you so long to form an opinion.”
"I worked fast enough when I was able to use one of the information screens be the workroom. You could have done the same, except that you preferred to make a great mystery in order to swindle me to the tune of twenty sols."
Lefaun, closing his eyes, reached up with both hands to pull the hat so far down over his head that it rested on his eyebrows and the tips of his ears. “Ay, ay, ay!” said Lefaun softly. “I am in disgrace, then.”
“Very much so."
“Alas! I have prepared a little supper at my flat; I have simmered rose petals in essence of duck; I have wiped the dust from my best bottle of wine. All for your delectation. And now, you will not come?"
"Even for ten bottles of your best wine I would not have come. I lack confidence in 'Running Wolves' and curators as well.”
"A pity! But here is Tadiew Skander, my partner in vice. Tadiew, over here! Did you get the information?” “I did – but it cost more than we had estimated, since I had to deal with Old High-trousers himself.”
Wayness laughed. "Well done, Tadiew! The timing was perfect; the delivery soft as silk, and the poor brainless fool of a girl will pay whatever you ask!”
Lefaun said to Wayness: “Write the information you have discovered on a piece of paper. We shall have a test, to determine whether or not Tadiew is tricking us. It is now twenty-two sols, Tadiew “
“Twenty-two sols!” cried Tadiew. "The final figure was twenty-four!”
“Now then, Tadiew you have noted your expensive information in writing?”
“So I have.”
“Please place it face down on the table. Now then, have you communicated this information to anyone?”
“Of course not. This is the first I have seen you since noon!”
“Correct.”
Wayness watched with curled lip. “I wonder what you are trying to prove.”
“Tadiew and I are admitted scoundrels; we admit to bribery and corruption of dignified officials. I want him to break down and admit that he is more vile and more scurrilous than I am.”
“I see. But the comparison is of no interest to me. ”Now, if you will excuse me.“
“One moment. I also want to place a fragment of information upon the table; an intuition I gained from looking into the cases. There it is done! Three pieces of paper lie before us. Now then, we need an expert arbitrator who is unaware of our discussion, and I see just the person yonder. Her name is Natalinya Harmin, and she is a senior curator at the museum.” He indicated a tall woman of imposing physique, keen of eye and massive of jaw, her blonde hair braided and tied in a rope around her head: not a person to trifle with, thought Wayness. Lefaun called out: “Madame Harmin! Be good enough to step over here for a moment."
Natalinya Harmin turned her head; observing Lefaun’s signal, she crossed the room to stand looking down at him. “I am here, Lefaun. Why, may I ask, are you glowering at me in that fashion?”
Lefaun spoke in surprise: “I was wearing what I intended for an agreeable expression.”
“Very well have seen it and you may relax. What do you want?”
“This is Wayness Tamm, a handsome little creature down from space, who is anxious to explore the marvels of Old Kiev. I must mention that she is headstrong, extremely naive, and suspects everyone of turpitude."
"Ha! That is not naiveté, but sound common sense. Above all, young lady, do not go running out on the steppe with Lefaun Zadoury. At the very least, you will suffer sore feet."
“Thank you,” said Wayness. “That is good advice."
"Is that all?” asked Natalinya Harmin. “If so –“
"Not quite," said Lefaun. “Tadiew and I are at odds and we want you to arbitrate the point at issue. Am I right, Tadiew?"
“Exactly! Madame Harmin is famous for her forthright candor."
“Candor, is it? Asking me for candor is like opening Pandora’s Box. You may learn more than you want to know.”
"We must take the chance. Are you ready?"
"I am ready. Speak.”
"We want you to identify these words fully and exactly."
He took the paper from in front of Wayness and handed it to Natalinya Harmin. She read it aloud: ‘Aeolus Benefice, at Croy’. Hmf."
"Are you acquainted with this institution?"
"Naturally, though it is an aspect of Museum policy that we normally do not publicize.”
Lefaun told Wayness: "Madame Harmin is telling us that when an anonymous bequest arrives at the museum we state its provenance to be ‘Aeolus Benefice of Croy’ in order to forestall inconvenience to ourselves. Am I right, Madame Harmin?"
Natalinya Harmin gave a crisp nod. “In essence, this is correct."
"So that when one looks in the files and finds that a bequest is attributed to Aeolus Benefices,” he will understand that the entry is totally meaningless?"
“Exactly. It is our way of writing ‘Anonymous Bequest' ,” said Natalinya Harmin. "What else do you want to know, Lefaun? You are not getting a raise in pay this quarter if that is the question you are preparing to ask.”
Wayness had slumped back into her chair, almost weak with joy. Julian Bohost, whatever the reason for his presence at Fair Winds, had been baited along a false trail, and in a most convincing manner.
“One more question,” said Lefaun. “For the sake of argument, if someone wanted to find the source of an anonymous bequest, how would he go about it?”
"He would be turned away, politely but briskly and no one would listen to his complaints. That information is considered a sacred trust, and is inaccessible even to me. Is there anything else?"
“No, thank you,” said Lefaun. “You have provided us full and exact information.”
Natalinya Harmin returned to her own party. “Now then,” said Lefaun. “To the next step. I have noted several words upon my paper. There is no mystery about these words. They were formed in my mind by simple processes. This morning, when I first looked into the three cases, I noted that the genealogical studies in the second case traced the lineage of the Counts de Flamanges, with emphasis upon those associated with the Naturalist Society. Among the biographies in the first case the only volume showing signs of use was that concerning the Count de Flamanges. The third case included much material regarding the Count de Flamanges and his offer of three hundred acres to the Naturalist Society. In short, the cases apparently had been donated by someone connected with the de Flamanges.” Lefaun turned over his paper. “Therefore ‘Count de Flamanges, of Castle Mirky Porod near Draczeny, in the Moholc.’ There are the words you will read here.”
Lefaun tilted his beer mug finding it empty he set it down with a thud. “I seem to be empty. Tadiew, lend me five tickets."
"Never. You already owe me eleven.”
Wayness hastily pushed a number of tickets toward Lefaun. “Take these; I won’t need so many.”
"Thank you.” Lefaun rose to his feet. Tadiew called out: “In that case, bring me another quart!”
Lefaun went to the dispenser and returned with two large mugs brimming with foam. “I take no pride in my deduction; the facts seem to cry out for attention. Now then, Tadiew, what more can you tell us?"
“First, that I am out of pocket fourteen sols and that I have used every trick in my repertory to penetrate the inner files.”
Lefaun told Wayness: “It helps a great deal when one has a warm relationship with the secretary to one of our high bashaws."
"Do not deprecate my efforts!" snapped Tadiew. “I went on tenterhooks, I can assure you, and for a time hid behind a desk."
"In the main, it was well done, Tadiew! I personally lack your subtle skills. You may now produce the lightning bolts of surprising information that your work has achieved."
“Don’t crow!" With a fretful motion Tadiew turned over his paper, to reveal a name: “‘Countess Ottilie de Flamanges’. The bequest was made about twenty years ago, upon the death of the Count. She still lives in her castle, alone except for servants and dogs. She is said to be somewhat eccentric."
Wayness brought out money. “Here are thirty sols. I understand nothing of your financial arrangements, nor who paid what to whom. You must straighten such matters out between yourselves. And now – ” Wayness rose to her feet ” – I, must return to the hotel.”
“What?” cried Lefaun. “We have not yet visited Mopo's nor the Black Eagle!”
Wayness smiled. “Still, I must go.”
"Nor have you seen my dinosaur's tooth, nor tasted my spiced saffronella, nor even listened to the chirping of my pet cricket!"
“I regret these omissions but they are unavoidable."
Lefaun gave a dismal groan and rose to his feet. "Tadiew guard my chair; I will be back shortly."