The Charlatan

27. A Persiflage

Mor's bar bubbled with as much visual noise as auditory today. Visitors signed enthusiastic-looking conversations and Air was entranced by the lively atmosphere awhile as he stood in the entryway. After a bit of prodding from his Genesese-Mori translator, Air continued into the establishment and claimed a table far from the one at which Safiya had decided to choke him not more than a few nights ago. Air shuffled around his pockets for a gold piece to pay for morning stimulants and noticed that his handfuls of coins were going to soon to become handful. He smiled friendlily at the barkeeper anyway, and thanked them for their service. He toasted to nothing and merely stared at the rows of glasses being stored on the shelf a few paces in front of him. He was restless.

"For someone so enthusiastic to draft a translator, you have been doing very little conversing," his translator said as she also ordered a drink.

"For someone claiming to be part of a professional translating guild, you seem to be doing a lot of drinking," Air quipped in response. His translator merely laughed and made a gesture with her hand Air strongly suspected was actually a sign that she knew he could not understand.

"I will not be intoxicated on the job, should you even give me one. Don't you worry, that's a Mirla guarantee," she said.

Air exhaled a gentle chuckle and downed half his tumbler. I didn't draft you for translating, he thought. "I drafted you for information," he said. Mirla raised a brow, her slightly crooked grin growing more crooked as she eyed Air curiously.

"We have a tourism centre for that," she said.

"As a translator, I'm sure you speak to more people than they do," Air replied. Mirla considered that, and nodded her head in casual agreement. Air continued, "You know the people of Mor, and you also know some of the peoples of the world outside of it." Mirla's eyes narrowed as she seemed to guess what Air was getting at.

"Gossip," she said simply.

"You could call it that. I don't ask for anything of a nefarious nature," Air levelled his usually exuberant tone to appear more genuine, "I just know that Mor welcomes all kinds of people. Surely you must have travellers seeking business here all the time. The profit potential seems great." Mirla made a noise of contention.

"Mor is not that vast. Furthermore, its primary service is medical. We have enough of that domestically, and with our advanced technology we've always been well-prepared for tourism. Aside from those industries, we aren't that ideal a place to be doing business. The travellers who do make it out do not stay for long, and we have quiet tourism seasons that businesses would not cope well with, I feel. Furthermore, coming to Mor usually means you are seeking expensive medical treatment. The people who come simply don't have the gold to spend on frivolities."

"Perhaps not permanent businesses then, but you likely host many travelling traders and salesmen." Mirla leaned closer to Air and put a hand under her chin, studying him.

"What is it that you want to know, exactly?" she asked, cutting to the chase. Air grinned sheepishly.

"I am somewhat of a troubadour, a travelling musician, and I admit that I am getting low on gold. My question is whether busking for some extra pieces is worthwhile." Mirla paused awhile before answering.

"Interesting that you ask about profit before legality," she commented. Her tone was light and rhetorical, but Air strangely felt that what she had said revealed much more about him than he typically gave credit for being part of him. "I think that the Morian people would welcome such a spectacle. Even for non-hearing folk, the mastery with which one plucks strings or keys flutes can be impressive. I myself would love to watch!" Air smiled widely.