Post by Hermes on Dec 16, 2014 15:56:41 GMT -5
For day 16 of the Advent Calendar, a story of the first meeting of two people known to us.
Preludio.
The boy stood on the steps outside the Hotel Preludio, where, with his parents, he had spent the night following his graduation, and looked anxiously at the cars coming and going. He had been there for some time when a taxi pulled up and the driver climbed out. He was tall and skinny, and had a cigarette behind his ear.
‘Do you want a taxi?’ the driver asked.
‘Actually,’ said the boy ‘I’m waiting to meet someone’.
‘I thought’ said the driver ‘that you might want to go somewhere more exciting. The world is quiet here’.
‘Oh, I see,’ replied the boy. ‘I haven’t any money, but…’
‘You needn’t worry about money,’ said the driver ‘not if you’re who I think you are. Are you who I think you are?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said the boy. ‘I’m –‘
‘Don’t mention any names’ said the driver ‘until we’re out of earshot’.
Cautiously , the boy put his luggage in the trunk, and climbed into the taxi. There was a book lying on the back seat; picking it up, he recognised one of his favourite books, The Bears’ Famous Invasion of Sicily, by Dino Buzzatti. The driver, taking his seat in the front, produced a photograph from his pocket and passed it to the boy.
‘I thought you might like to see this picture of my baby daughter,’ he explained.
Whether the baby in the photograph was in fact the driver’s daughter, or indeed a girl, was not altogether clear, but the boy has read his V.F.D. disguise manual, and so found this at least slightly reassuring. ‘She looks very sweet,’ he said, passing it back.
The car moved off up the street, and, turning a corner, headed for the north. They moved through the city’s Fish Quarter; the boy noticed the Bistro Smelt, a restaurant he had been to with his parents a few times. He was not sure just what ‘out of earshot’ meant, but when ten minutes or so had passed since they left the hotel, he thought it was safe to speak up.
‘So,’ he said, ‘are you Mr Sni-‘
‘Yes,’ said the man ‘but just call me L. And you must be D.’
‘That’ s right,’ said D. ‘What does the L. stand for?’
In reply L took a packet of sweets from the glove compartment and passed it to the boy. D, thanking him, took one and bit into it.
‘Lemony,’ said the man.
‘Yes, it is,’ said D. ‘But –‘
‘My own chaperone would never tell me her name,’ L. explained. ‘She thought working it out would be a challenge, a word which here means “An activity one cannot see the point of”.’
‘All right’ said D, ‘I’ll think about it. Could you give me a clue?’
The man gave a quiet chuckle. ‘Later, perhaps,’ he said.
They had left the city centre and were making their way out of town, towards Briny Beach.
‘So,’ L went on, ‘what made you choose me as a chaperone? I’ve offered my services many times, but no apprentice has ever taken me up on it before. My reputation is rather… ambiguous, I’m afraid.'
‘Well’ D replied, ‘there were a couple of things. One was that you play the accordion. I do too – I think we’re probably the only volunteers who do.’
‘Oh yes’ said L, ‘I noticed that. Your accordion skills are actually going to be quite an important part of your mission. And what was the other thing?’
The boy was rather puzzled – just how could playing the accordion help to prevent or put out fires, literal or metaphorical? – but decided to ask about this later.
‘I think we may be related. The volunteer who recruited me was a Mr Sn – I mean, he had the same surname as you – and he told me what we were third cousins once removed.’
The man turned to look at him with renewed interest. ‘Was his initial J? That would be my brother. I haven’t seen him for a long time, I’m afraid. You haven’t been in touch with him, I suppose?’
‘I’m afraid not. I don’t know where he is at all.’
‘I think he’s on a secret mission,’ said the man. ‘But now you mention it, we do have a sort of family resemblance. I dare say in ten years or so you’ll look quite like me.’
They drove along the promenade overlooking Briny Beach for a while, and then turned inland, following the old trolley line into the city’s northern suburbs. They moved through a wealthy district, where mansions stood in spacious gardens; D noticed a few which were built of green wood.
‘The good thing about our organisation’ said L ‘is its noble ideals. We aim to keep the world quiet and protected. That’s always a good thing to strive for, even if we don’t always succeed.’
He seemed to be waiting for a response. ‘So,’ said the boy ‘what is the bad thing about it?’
‘The people,’ the man explained. ‘Some of us are villains. Of course, many of the villains were detected and expelled quite a while ago – when I was younger than you are now.’
‘Was that the schism?’
‘That’s right. But they keep infiltrating us. There are always a few villains in disguise, and one can never tell who they are. And then others are volatile, a word which here means “You can never tell what they will do next”.’
As he spoke the car made a sudden turn to the right and went down a narrow side-road .
‘I fear some of our enemies may be following us. I came in a taxi because they wouldn’t be expecting it, and I’m going by a roundabout route so that they will find us harder to trace, but they have spies everywhere. Or so I have been told, at least. Anyway, volatile people have basically noble aims, but they are too ready to fight fire with fire. But other people are even more unpredictable, because they always give people what they want. One day they will be helping us, and the next day they will be helping our enemies.’
They were moving back into the city centre now: D saw the Fountain of Victorious Finance and, opposite it, the Museum of Items.
‘And then there are people who have adopted a laissez-faire attitude, a phrase which here means that they don’t do anything villainous, but they don’t do anything to combat villainy either. They think we should observe everything carefully, and intrude only if absolutely necessary.’
‘So are there no really noble people?’ the boy asked.
‘There are a few. I think I am one, but some people disagree with me. It’s often hard to tell if one is noble or not. Sometimes I think I should have been a librarian. There’s no doubt that what they are doing is noble. My sister’s sweetheart is a librarian, and he has a much more rewarding life than me. Have you thought of becoming a librarian? It’s not too late to change.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said D, ‘I’ve always been interested in books. But perhaps we should complete this mission first?’
They were moving through the city’s wealthiest district now; the tall buildings of Dark Avenue overshadowed them.
‘That’s a good plan,’ said his chaperone. ‘We want you to infiltrate the orchestra at the Opera House. They have a vacancy for an accordionist; their last accordionist, um, left in mysterious circumstances. There are not many accordionists in town, so if you apply quickly you are very likely to get the job.’
‘I see,’ said the apprentice, doubtfully. ‘And once I am there, what should I do?’
‘There is a villainous plot being hatched at the Opera House,’ L explained. ‘We think the aim may be to burn the Opera House down, but we aren’t sure of that. The star singers, Count Magnus and Countess Frieda, are either involved in the plot, or its targets. Your aim is to gather clues and see if you can gain a clearer idea of what is happening .’
‘That sounds quite difficult,’ said the boy.
‘Think of it as a challenge,’ L replied. ‘By the way, there is another V.F.D. apprentice at the Opera House. He is in the boys’ chorus. His name is S – I don’t know if you know him.’
‘I’m not sure. There are quite a lot of people with the initial S.’
‘Well, in any case, we’re not sure whether he belongs to the same faction as us. He may be a useful ally, or he may be a dangerous opponent. You will have to work it out.’
‘That sounds even difficulter’ said the boy. ‘But I suppose that’s part of the challenge.’
‘Exactly! That’s the spirit.’ The car came to a halt; they were in the square before the Opera House, where a large banner advertised the forthcoming production of La Forza del Destino. The man looked round; the expression on his face was grave. ‘There is a reason for everything we do, you know, even if it is hard to see. My own apprenticeship was even more confusing than this, but I did achieve something in the end. By the way, have you read any good books lately?’
The boy seemed a bit discombobulated by the change of tone, but after a moment said ‘I found a very interesting one about a changeling’.
‘Thanks for the tip,’ said the man. ‘It’s always good to give a tip’.
They got out of the car, and retrieved D’s accordion from the luggage. ‘The orchestra entrance is round on the right,’ L explained. ‘I’ll be in the café across the square; come there afterwards, and tell me how it went. Good luck!’
They shook hands. D turned, and went round the Opera House until he found a door marked ‘Orchestra’. He went in and found a short flight of stairs, leading to a small room in which a very short man sat at a desk.
‘Good morning,’ said the boy. ‘I believe you have a vacancy for an accordionist.’
‘That’s right’, said the short man. ‘Can you tell me your name, please?’
Preludio.
The boy stood on the steps outside the Hotel Preludio, where, with his parents, he had spent the night following his graduation, and looked anxiously at the cars coming and going. He had been there for some time when a taxi pulled up and the driver climbed out. He was tall and skinny, and had a cigarette behind his ear.
‘Do you want a taxi?’ the driver asked.
‘Actually,’ said the boy ‘I’m waiting to meet someone’.
‘I thought’ said the driver ‘that you might want to go somewhere more exciting. The world is quiet here’.
‘Oh, I see,’ replied the boy. ‘I haven’t any money, but…’
‘You needn’t worry about money,’ said the driver ‘not if you’re who I think you are. Are you who I think you are?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said the boy. ‘I’m –‘
‘Don’t mention any names’ said the driver ‘until we’re out of earshot’.
Cautiously , the boy put his luggage in the trunk, and climbed into the taxi. There was a book lying on the back seat; picking it up, he recognised one of his favourite books, The Bears’ Famous Invasion of Sicily, by Dino Buzzatti. The driver, taking his seat in the front, produced a photograph from his pocket and passed it to the boy.
‘I thought you might like to see this picture of my baby daughter,’ he explained.
Whether the baby in the photograph was in fact the driver’s daughter, or indeed a girl, was not altogether clear, but the boy has read his V.F.D. disguise manual, and so found this at least slightly reassuring. ‘She looks very sweet,’ he said, passing it back.
The car moved off up the street, and, turning a corner, headed for the north. They moved through the city’s Fish Quarter; the boy noticed the Bistro Smelt, a restaurant he had been to with his parents a few times. He was not sure just what ‘out of earshot’ meant, but when ten minutes or so had passed since they left the hotel, he thought it was safe to speak up.
‘So,’ he said, ‘are you Mr Sni-‘
‘Yes,’ said the man ‘but just call me L. And you must be D.’
‘That’ s right,’ said D. ‘What does the L. stand for?’
In reply L took a packet of sweets from the glove compartment and passed it to the boy. D, thanking him, took one and bit into it.
‘Lemony,’ said the man.
‘Yes, it is,’ said D. ‘But –‘
‘My own chaperone would never tell me her name,’ L. explained. ‘She thought working it out would be a challenge, a word which here means “An activity one cannot see the point of”.’
‘All right’ said D, ‘I’ll think about it. Could you give me a clue?’
The man gave a quiet chuckle. ‘Later, perhaps,’ he said.
They had left the city centre and were making their way out of town, towards Briny Beach.
‘So,’ L went on, ‘what made you choose me as a chaperone? I’ve offered my services many times, but no apprentice has ever taken me up on it before. My reputation is rather… ambiguous, I’m afraid.'
‘Well’ D replied, ‘there were a couple of things. One was that you play the accordion. I do too – I think we’re probably the only volunteers who do.’
‘Oh yes’ said L, ‘I noticed that. Your accordion skills are actually going to be quite an important part of your mission. And what was the other thing?’
The boy was rather puzzled – just how could playing the accordion help to prevent or put out fires, literal or metaphorical? – but decided to ask about this later.
‘I think we may be related. The volunteer who recruited me was a Mr Sn – I mean, he had the same surname as you – and he told me what we were third cousins once removed.’
The man turned to look at him with renewed interest. ‘Was his initial J? That would be my brother. I haven’t seen him for a long time, I’m afraid. You haven’t been in touch with him, I suppose?’
‘I’m afraid not. I don’t know where he is at all.’
‘I think he’s on a secret mission,’ said the man. ‘But now you mention it, we do have a sort of family resemblance. I dare say in ten years or so you’ll look quite like me.’
They drove along the promenade overlooking Briny Beach for a while, and then turned inland, following the old trolley line into the city’s northern suburbs. They moved through a wealthy district, where mansions stood in spacious gardens; D noticed a few which were built of green wood.
‘The good thing about our organisation’ said L ‘is its noble ideals. We aim to keep the world quiet and protected. That’s always a good thing to strive for, even if we don’t always succeed.’
He seemed to be waiting for a response. ‘So,’ said the boy ‘what is the bad thing about it?’
‘The people,’ the man explained. ‘Some of us are villains. Of course, many of the villains were detected and expelled quite a while ago – when I was younger than you are now.’
‘Was that the schism?’
‘That’s right. But they keep infiltrating us. There are always a few villains in disguise, and one can never tell who they are. And then others are volatile, a word which here means “You can never tell what they will do next”.’
As he spoke the car made a sudden turn to the right and went down a narrow side-road .
‘I fear some of our enemies may be following us. I came in a taxi because they wouldn’t be expecting it, and I’m going by a roundabout route so that they will find us harder to trace, but they have spies everywhere. Or so I have been told, at least. Anyway, volatile people have basically noble aims, but they are too ready to fight fire with fire. But other people are even more unpredictable, because they always give people what they want. One day they will be helping us, and the next day they will be helping our enemies.’
They were moving back into the city centre now: D saw the Fountain of Victorious Finance and, opposite it, the Museum of Items.
‘And then there are people who have adopted a laissez-faire attitude, a phrase which here means that they don’t do anything villainous, but they don’t do anything to combat villainy either. They think we should observe everything carefully, and intrude only if absolutely necessary.’
‘So are there no really noble people?’ the boy asked.
‘There are a few. I think I am one, but some people disagree with me. It’s often hard to tell if one is noble or not. Sometimes I think I should have been a librarian. There’s no doubt that what they are doing is noble. My sister’s sweetheart is a librarian, and he has a much more rewarding life than me. Have you thought of becoming a librarian? It’s not too late to change.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said D, ‘I’ve always been interested in books. But perhaps we should complete this mission first?’
They were moving through the city’s wealthiest district now; the tall buildings of Dark Avenue overshadowed them.
‘That’s a good plan,’ said his chaperone. ‘We want you to infiltrate the orchestra at the Opera House. They have a vacancy for an accordionist; their last accordionist, um, left in mysterious circumstances. There are not many accordionists in town, so if you apply quickly you are very likely to get the job.’
‘I see,’ said the apprentice, doubtfully. ‘And once I am there, what should I do?’
‘There is a villainous plot being hatched at the Opera House,’ L explained. ‘We think the aim may be to burn the Opera House down, but we aren’t sure of that. The star singers, Count Magnus and Countess Frieda, are either involved in the plot, or its targets. Your aim is to gather clues and see if you can gain a clearer idea of what is happening .’
‘That sounds quite difficult,’ said the boy.
‘Think of it as a challenge,’ L replied. ‘By the way, there is another V.F.D. apprentice at the Opera House. He is in the boys’ chorus. His name is S – I don’t know if you know him.’
‘I’m not sure. There are quite a lot of people with the initial S.’
‘Well, in any case, we’re not sure whether he belongs to the same faction as us. He may be a useful ally, or he may be a dangerous opponent. You will have to work it out.’
‘That sounds even difficulter’ said the boy. ‘But I suppose that’s part of the challenge.’
‘Exactly! That’s the spirit.’ The car came to a halt; they were in the square before the Opera House, where a large banner advertised the forthcoming production of La Forza del Destino. The man looked round; the expression on his face was grave. ‘There is a reason for everything we do, you know, even if it is hard to see. My own apprenticeship was even more confusing than this, but I did achieve something in the end. By the way, have you read any good books lately?’
The boy seemed a bit discombobulated by the change of tone, but after a moment said ‘I found a very interesting one about a changeling’.
‘Thanks for the tip,’ said the man. ‘It’s always good to give a tip’.
They got out of the car, and retrieved D’s accordion from the luggage. ‘The orchestra entrance is round on the right,’ L explained. ‘I’ll be in the café across the square; come there afterwards, and tell me how it went. Good luck!’
They shook hands. D turned, and went round the Opera House until he found a door marked ‘Orchestra’. He went in and found a short flight of stairs, leading to a small room in which a very short man sat at a desk.
‘Good morning,’ said the boy. ‘I believe you have a vacancy for an accordionist.’
‘That’s right’, said the short man. ‘Can you tell me your name, please?’