We two found the tea-room boisterously patroned, more-so than when we had last visited it in the late hours of the previous night.
Nearly every table had laughing groups of men and women, most of whom were eclectic collections of apparent strangers.
Dr. A'Rec quickly spied young Azar in the far-side of the great hall. We windingly made our way to the young man who patiently sipped a steaming cup of black tea.
He had on a simple white shirt and tan trousers, this time in the fashion of my own homeland. I remarked on its tastefulness to the young man who graciously smiled and conveyed his words of thanks to me through the doctor.
We each ordered the same small meal, but I barely tasted mine, instead I busied myself with observing Azar while he delicately ate his own serving.
Azar caught my curious gaze and spoke to Dr. A'Rec, who translated, "He asks why you are looking at him and not eating."
I shook my head to dispel my reverie. "Sorry, I was suddenly struck by your similarities to a boy I knew in the past. Perhaps you and him are of the same people. His name was, -no, is, Moyana."
Azar shook his head and spoke.
The doctor translated; "He says the style of name is familiar to him, but it is too eastern for his particular people, likely nearer to the Baseru Range. His people, the Brindled Tribe, are from the Ancient Plains, beyond Auratica and deep in the heart-desert of Orae. He asks whether perhaps the boy you knew was brindled or spotted like him?"
"No," said I, "He was rather even, save for a birthmark or two on his back."
"He says, 'All my people are brindled, it is what makes us a distinct Tribe. The rare few who are not brindled, are often pie-bald, or at least become partially pie-bald as they age, often long before their second Ail.'"
I nodded, somewhat disappointed. "I am thankful for the knowledge you have given me."
"'It is of little consequence. Perhaps you can–'" Dr. A'Rec paused his translation and began a rapid exchange with young Azar in that language of theirs: the exchange ended when Azar forcefully clicked his tongue. "He asks whether it would be possible for you to teach him the Einnish tongue."
I grew puzzled. "I must confess that I am deeply flattered, but I haven't the foggiest idea how to teach any-one any-thing, much less an entire language."
Both Azar and Dr. A'Rec chuckled at my distress. The doctor spoke for himself, "You will not have to teach him from he ground up, good man, I have already taught him much of both Einnish and Darmmic. He has, however, stubbonly refused I teach him to speak in either language. He claims my heavy Darmmic accent sullies my Einnish, and that my native Darmmic is too vulgar for his tastes."
"What then, pray tell, can I teach him."
"Only the elementaries of pronunciation," said Dr. A'Rec, "Small conversation and reading aloud... though, I must add this to prepare you if you choose to agree, Mr. Feraman, Azar is a quick learner, so quick in fact that it borders on the supernatural."
The statement was punctuated by the two sharing glances they must have mistakenly believed I would miss.
"That runs quite contrary to what you have priorly claimed." I cheekily jibed, raising a warm cup of tea to my lips.
Azar laughed good-humouredly while the good doctor sheepishly ignored my remark. "So, Mr. Feraman, will you be willing to oblige our request. We can discuss your compensation-"
"No, absolutely not," said I, "No compensation will be necessary. I will do you this small favour, my good-men, in the belief that you will do your utmost in caring for me as I steadily accumulate my health."
With that the matter was settled and our conversation tread to other avenues. The topics remained light, with the doctor and I primarily reminiscing about the temperate climes of the south. Azar would interject only sparsely, but he, for the most part, busied himself with watching us talk. At times I would catch him slowly mouth the words we spoke in a childish sort of way.
After we had broken our fast we retired to the cabin, where the doctor produced several thick tomes for Azar and I to immediately begin digesting. They were varied works, most of which were published in Britterly and concerned a wide range of topics, from etiquette, to history, and, oddly enough, an antique work which dealt solely with the mythologies of the Bemmi-Saxins and their related peoples.
I carefully inspected the books before selecting one that caught my fancy. "Now, young Azar, let's begin with this, *"The Nobilities of Britterly"
*******
That first day passed quite peacefully, and so did many of the days that followed.
A simple routine quickly took shape between us three: In the mornings we would break-fast together, after which I would begin tutoring young Azar. At the end of our lessons the young man would freshen himself up before vanishing for hours, only to return after the sun had set. In those hours the doctor and I would converse and idle away the time with a deck of cards or one of the doctor's many books.
After Azar would return we would all take dinner in the luncheon bar and hold conversation on many diverging matters. Following our conversations the doctor would proffer one of his white tablets for me to consume, which I would immediately take and retire to my bed-room for the night.
It was from those evening conversations that my cabin companions and I learned more about each other.
I recall the doctor being quite surprised to learn that I was not a man of science and Will, as he had surmised: he was nearly sick with shock to learn that I had absorbed the scientist's demeanor from the most famous Oirid of the continent, even Azar seemingly revised his assessment of me when he learned of my past relation with Oirid Herminger, whose notoriety had spread even to the distant Ancient Plains.
I, for my part, found myself startled to learn that Azar had at the time only just turned seventeen.
He chuckled at my distress, -a habit, I readily confess, I have never quite succeeded in curing him of.
"It is why we bothered with the deceit of him being my servant, you see," the good doctor explained, "You might have not seen his tender age, but others, more accustomed to the black northerly faces, can easily do so. Young men of the Brindled Tribe are not ever permitted to head out of the Plains, especially 'twice-blessed' young men like Azar here."
Twice-blessed, I later learned, was the most direct translation of the term for the rare few who were both brindled and pied.
"So I concocted the story that I had purchased him as a servitor in the East, because it is easier to believe him being with me by contract, than by his own volition." The doctor continued.
"I told him it was stupid." Azar's smooth voice stated in lightly accented Einnish.
To just say Azar was a stunningly quick learner, would be a great disservice to his savantish wit.
In the eight days I had tutored him, I could only watch on in intermingled horror and pride as he mastered the speaking of not just one, but two separate languages: -after some pleading from both the good doctor and myself, he had reluctantly decided to pursue the study of Darmmic: which proved to have little impact whatsoever on the rate at which he voraciously absorbed knowledge.
To learn to perfectly speak a word he needed only hear it once, after which he would repeat it ceaselessly, dozens, even hundreds, of times, with different inflections each time, until he had captured it, at which point he would move on to the next.
In the early mornings I would see him pace our shared rooms, with a book in either hand and muttering in either Darmmic, or Einnish, or an unnatural amalgamation of both.
In the middle of conversations he would request we pause and explain to him the phrases we had used, their etymological roots if we knew them, and the correct contexts in which to use them. In the evenings, after returning from his mysterious forays, he would request that either I or the doctor read to him a short list of words that he had copied from one book or another, or else had overheard from the conversations of others.
All of this monstrous study led to him piecing together perfect sentences in both languages by the end of the fifth day.
Though the sentences were simple, they were almost perfectly intoned; I could hear in his Einnish, for example, a near identical cloning of my vocal mannerisms and patterns of speech. He could not, however, succeed in completely removing the strong influence his mother-tongue, for the most part, though, it remained fairly light.
"Others are not accustomed to seeing the Brindled." Azar stated, using his head to gesture to our surrounds. "Whether I am a manservant or a lordling, they will watch."
His words rang true. As I slowly looked around, I could feel the piercing scrutiny of others directed towards the tall boy seated across from me.
My quick surveyance stalled, however, when, glancing over young Azar's right shoulder, my eyes met the slanted eyes of a gentleman seated in a shaded corner of the otherwise airy dining-hall.
His narrow eyes shifted in a very casual manner when he saw that I had caught his heated spying. I did not intend to divert my eyes from the rude gentleman until Azar whispered to me, "Look away, old sir. You should not spook our tail, as it will take me days to spot a new one."
The doctor, who was seated to my left hand, thus to Azar's right, shifted his entire demeanor. His otherwise nervously energetic manner made way for a rigid and serious air.
"Which one is it?" he hoarsely asked.
Before I could answer, Azar whispered, "The isolated Nihon gentleman by the south-west pillar, ten and five tables behind me. Black bowler hat and dark red vest, water and an unopened book on his table, -as always."
The doctor furtively glanced at the gentleman whilst smoothly raising a spoonful of soup to his thin lips.
"The Majordomo?" asked Dr. A'Rec.
"Likely one of his boys, yes," answered Azar.
"Your escapades?" asked the doctor.
"No, yours. Mine have no winesses" answered Azar deftly.
"Unfortunate," stated the doctor.
"Very," affirmed Azar.
I was gobsmacked at the rapid exchange. I leaned in conspiratorially. "What the devil..." I stuttered, "W-were you aware of him this whole time?"
Azar smiled genially, "Old sir, I am aware of every thing, all of the time, within a reasonable distance, of course. The man has been on our tail since the first day. He is awfully clumsy too. Ten and five tables behind me, every time. Water and a book, every time. When we leave he will follow, try to catch his amateurish footsteps if you can. For now, please resume your meal and try to forget about him."
I found it hard to follow his prescript, but I attempted to remain as casual as my two companions while they laughed and conversed as usual.
When came time for us to depart, I left last and made sure to slip a steak-knife into my sleeve, for my own protection. The whole affair had struck me as seriously dubious, and I would have strongly dis-liked to be found flat-footed and unarmed.
I thought myself sufficiently surreptitious, but I saw Azar give me a small look that told me my small action did not remain unseen. He said nothing, however, and chose to speak to me on the matter of the book he intended I read to him in our coming lesson.
As we made way to our cabin I fully strained my ears in an attempt to hear our sneaking pursuer; I had little success, neither, I felt, did the good doctor.
We entered the cabin and the day proceeded as usual. I lectured Azar on the pronunciations of dozens of different words and names, after which he began his parroting and pacing, with only minor corrections from myself.
At noon we returned to the cafeteria for a light tea. Just as before, I spied the shadowy gentleman, ten and five tables behind Azar, with an unsipped glass of water and a sealed book on the table before him.
When we re-entered the cabin, Dr. A'Rec retrieved a dusty collection of children's stories written in Darmmic for Azar's perusal.
I sat on the settee and watched the doctor improve Azar's utilisation of uvular 'Rs' .
Mindlessly, I shuffled a deck of cards until that action grew tedious, at which point I pushed the deck, into my coat pockets.
Therein, I felt a cold metallic object I quickly recalled to be the steak knife I had pilfered from the tea-room.
As my fingers ran over the serrated blade, an idea came over me; an idea that seemed perfectly logical at the time and as natural as breathing air or drinking water.
I clasped the hilt of the knife and slid it out of my pocket. I very calmly raised the knife over my throat and slowly ran it into my skin.
The next half-second I felt a weight crash against my body and slam me off the leather settee. My wrists were bashed against the floor repeatedly as my fingers were forcefully unclenched, leading to a clatter of metal on wood.
I wiggled out from under Azar's body and leapt to my feet. "What the devil are you doing, young man!?"
Azar, who was knelt with one hand on the knife, ignored my question. "Luis," ordered he, "see to him."
"I will not be seen to," protested I, "until you explain why on earth you have assaulted me."
Dr. A'Rec deliberately raised his hands and moved closer to me, I responded by taking a frightened step backwards. "Mr. Feraman," he gently said, using the same tone one would use for a spooked horse. "Mr. Feraman, please, turn around and look at your reflection."
He signalled to the neglected glass mirror that adorned one of the sitting-room's walls. In a hesitant fashion, I turned my head round, only to come upon a grisly sight.
Crimson blood gushed from a gory wound on my neck. The thick liquid stained my entire front and continued to steadily dribble from my body onto the floor.
I grew faint even as my reflection moved his hand to his neck; however, I was the one to come away with a scarlet painted palm.
A faint ringing made itself audible to me.
In an echoic way, I heard the doctor explain, "Mr. Feraman, you have just had one of the attacks of dejection I had warned you abou- Mr. Feraman! Mr. Feraman!"
The doctor rushed to my side as I heavily collapsed. Like a rushing shadow, unconsciousness overcame me.