“That’s a rather intrusive question,” Julian pointed out. “Nevertheless, I will enlighten you. I don’t care to indulge in any marriage ritual. I will never indulge in any bureaucratic ritual in this city, ever again.”
“Why don’t you just hire a cook?” persisted Bili.
“I’d have to give him all his orders! I might as well simply cook for myself.”
“I know that I’m not very bright,” said Bili humbly. “But a profound thinker like you, a man of such exemplary virtue … Everybody knows you’re the finest scribe in our city. Which is to say, the whole world! Yet you live alone in that little house, fussing with your diet and putting on plays in your backyard.”
“I know people talk about me,” shrugged Julian. “People chatter and cackle like chickens.”
Bili said nothing for a while. He knew he had revealed a sore spot.
Mellow Julian examined the sprawling straw mat of a foreign vendor. All the women of Selder adored seashells, because seashells were delicate, pretty, and exotic. Mellow Julian shared that interest, so he had a close look at the wares.
The shell vendor was a scarred, bristle-bearded sea pirate. His so-called rare seashells were painted plaster fakes.
Julian put away his magnifying lens. He nodded shortly and retreated. “Since you were born almost yesterday, Bili,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “I would urge you to have a good look at that wild, hard-bitten character. This marketplace has never lacked for crooks, but this brute may be a spy.”
Bili pointed. “There’s even worse to be seen there, maestro.”
Huddled under a torn cotton tarp were five dirty refugees: black-haired, yellow-skinned people in travel-torn rags. One of the refugees was not starving. He was the owner or boss of the other four, who visibly were.
“They shouldn’t let wretches like those through the gates,” said Bili. “My father says they carry disease.”
“Every mortal being carries
“They’re some ‘curious specimens,’ as you always put it, maestro.”
“Indeed, they most certainly are.”
“They must have come from very far away.”
“You are staring at them, Bili, but you are not observing them,” said Julian. “This man is in the ruins of a uniform, and he has a military bearing. This younger brute must be his son. This boy and girl are a brother and sister. And this older woman, whom he has dragged along from the wreck of their fortunes … Look at her hands. Those hands still have the marks of rings.”
The ruined soldier rose in his tattered boots and stuck out his callused mitt.
“I have some money,” offered Bili.
“Don’t get hasty, Bili.”
“But I think I understand what this foreigner is saying!” said Bili. “Listen! I want to try out my Old Proper English on him.
“It is,” Julian allowed.
“You should no longer call this city ‘Selder,’ Bili. The true name of your city is ‘Shelter.’ ‘The Resilient, Survivable, Sustainable Shelter,’ to list all her antique titles. If your ancestors could see you speaking like this—in their own streets, in their own language—they’d say you were a civilized man.”
“Thank you, maestro,” said Bili, with a blush to his pale, beardless cheeks. “From you, that means everything.”
“We must never forget that we descend from a great people. They made their mistakes—we all do—but someday, we’ll surpass them.”
“I’m going to buy this woman,” Bili decided. “I can afford her. The Selder Academy doesn’t cost all
