The Ultimate Linguist

by T. Mason Gilbert

stable master.”

  “Yes, sir.” Trae led the horses off.

  Busterro walked up, no longer looking worried. “My ass is pained beyond this world.”

  “Come,” Radeir said.

  We made our way inside the inn. The cobalt glow of the lighting gave the interior a surreal ambiance. The inn had all sorts of people and other kinds of creatures in it. I looked to see if any of the others looked like Busterro and was pleased to see there were two that did look like him. Busterro saw them too, and waved. The two other Ostagoins waved back.

  “Here is where I must take my leave. Go with thy light in mind and body,” Busterro said.

  “Go with thy light,” Radeir said.

  “Go with thy light,” I said, figuring, While in Rome …

  “Ostagoins practice thievery as merchants, and drive hard bargains. You are lucky I happened along when I did. Else he might have cheated you out of everything you own.”

  “The clothes I wear are all I own at this point.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “More’s the pity I didn’t come along later then.” He laughed hard at this and I flushed at his flirtation. His sexy laughter made me uncomfortably attracted to him and I forced myself to think of Cade at home, who was no doubt wondering where his wife and pot roast dinner had gone, and why his kids had had to walk home from school without supervision. Not that they couldn’t. I bet he has called old Moze the sheriff by now to look for me.

  Radeir and I sat at a table while Yazur headed to the bar to have some beer or ale or whatever else they drank at this inn.

  A harried waitress brought two wooden menus and placed them on the table, then ran off to handle other patron’s desires. Radeir handed me a menu. I looked at the strange writing on the menu and found an item that read cheeseburger. Apparently, some things are universal.

  “Matilda is short-handed tonight. Her usual wait staff must be gone. That’s bad news. Matilda is not a wench to be trifled with when she is forced to wait on people. Mind you’re careful and polite. Newcomers beware,” Radeir said.

  I had no idea what he was talking about. “Huh?’

  Radeir reached across and flipped the wooden menu. More strange writing graced the other side and spelled out the Rules of The Bucket of Gold, ten rules in all. I started to read and each became more and more absurd.

  “Are they kidding?” I asked, looking up at Radeir.

  “The owner sets the rules. Matilda’s the owner. Those that don’t like the rules need not patronize. Mind rule #6.”

  I continued my perusal. “Rule #6 really sucks,” I said, looking at him.

  Radeir looked confused. “Sucks? Sucks what?”

  “Oh, uh … I mean it’s harsh.”

  Radeir shrugged and said, “Yes, I suppose, but the food in The Bucket of Gold is known far and wide. It is out of this world.”

  “Food is food. How good can a cheeseburger be?”

  Before he could answer me, Matilda returned. “Whatta ya havin’?”

  “Cheeseburger,” I said.

  “Mutton, taters and gravy,” Radeir said.

  “Is there a bathroom here?” I asked.

  “The ladies’ room is just around the corner, sweetie,” Matilda said, pointing the way.

  I stood up to go and Matilda ran off. I stopped in my tracks when it happened. People were yelling for Matilda here and there when a larger-than-normal man sitting in the corner and sporting a big black beard began to speak loudly so that others might hear. He had a demeanor similar to that of a formidable black bear. He began to speak in a language that was different than that of Radeir or Busterro. “The service here is so poor that the waitress should service the food, and then service the customers on her knees. The inn may be short-staffed but I can assure the waitress that once she removes my codpiece she will see that I am not.” He bellowed deep, disgusting laughter.

  The man’s vulgarity shocked me, but all I could think of was rule #6. The room became deathly quiet and nothing had ever felt as terrifying as standing in a middle of a crowded room, and not being able to hear a sound. I couldn’t move. I watched as the highly incompetent waitress, now three tables deep in dirty looks and loudly bellowed insults, slid her trembling hand up her smooth left thigh and unsheathed her pearl handled knife she kept ready for moments such as this.

  Like lightning, Matilda’s knife flew across the room slicing through the man’s beard and into his throat. The grotesque teddy bear reached up and yanked it out, dropping it to the floor as he tried without success to staunch the massive flow of blood gushing through his beard. He keeled over onto his table with a crash. A moment of silence went by as Matilda calmly walked over and retrieved her knife.

  “Does anyone else have a problem with the service?” she asked.

  A lot of murmuring of the word “no” ensued in several different languages as everything returned to normal, which shocked me to no end. It seemed that this was a common occurrence.

  I leaned over the table to Radeir. “Is this real?”

  “Real? Of course it is real. Although I didn’t understand what the man said,” Radeir said.

  “He was quite vulgar,” I said.

  “You understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. He probably thought Matilda wouldn’t understand. Bad mistake. Matilda speaks several languages. When newcomers attend without being warned and fail to heed the rules, this occasionally happens. Like Rule #6 says, ‘Rudeness will not be tolerated. Don’t risk your life by being rude.’ Matilda couldn’t be any clearer, could she?”

  “Well, there’s tolerated and then there’s tolerated,” I said.

  Radeir frowned and I let him think about that for a while as I made my way to the ladies’ room.

  The ladies’ bathroom turned out to be a revelation. The décor in the dining area reminded me of an ordinary rustic lodge, albeit one with a blue glow. In contrast, the ladies’ bathroom approximated a high class hotel spa. With yellow candlelight everywhere, an old woman attendant dressed in a green maid’s dress stood by a stack of green hand towels near the wash basins, their water flowing constantly. She smiled and directed me to one of the enclosed stalls. Behind her a young brunette woman in a white satin gown strummed a small gilded harp with wonderfully calming music. The aroma of jasmine incense filled the air. It seemed as though I had stepped into another world. The environment was so relaxing, I took much longer than I normally would have.

  6

  Manna from Matilda

  When I got back to the table I noticed that Radeir had waited even though our food had already been served. How sweet, I thought. Cade would have been half finished by now.

  “You waited for me,” I said, smiling as I sat down.

  “Rudeness will not be tolerated,” he said with a wink. He had still not begun to eat and was watching me closely.

  “What?” I asked, smiling but feeling self-conscious.

  “Your smile lights up the room,” he said.

  I knew I was blushing. He said it with such sincerity that I felt a glow and buzzing in my ears, a reaction I used to have when I felt a real connection with someone of the opposite sex before I got married. It was good and bad at the same time. Stop thinking about him. You’re married, I thought.

  Radeir must have noticed my inward concern. “I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you but that wasn’t all I was thinking about.”

  “There’s more?” I asked as I waited with bated breath and feeling ashamed for wanting to hear more.

  “Yes. The food. Take a bite,” he said, smiling like he knew something I didn’t.

  Of course. He’s a man. Food is everything. My hot guilty thoughts now dampened, I picked up my cheeseburger. I’d forgotten about how hungry I was. Radeir’s eyes burned into me as I took a bite. I started to wonder why he was looking at me so intently when the experience of the cheeseburger turned my world upside down. Oh—my—god.

  This wasn’t just a cheeseburger, it was manna. The fla
vor tasted like every atom had an injection of MSG to multiply the essence about a million fold. But along with the intense savory experience came a feeling of ecstasy similar to the afterglow of great sex. I shivered.

  “This is the greatest cheeseburger in the … in any world,” I said.

  “Yes. That’s the real gold of the Bucket,” he said. “The food is why people come here from far and wide. Why they follow Matilda’s rules. She prepares the greatest fare in the world. It’s her qua.”

  “Pardon me. Her what?”

  “Her qua,” he said, looking like I should know what he was talking about.

  “What’s a qua?”

  “You know: the thing that makes a person special or unique. Matilda makes the best food in our world. Do they call it something else where you are from?”

  “Um, oh yes,” I said, not wanting to appear unknowing. I changed the subject. “I’m surprised we were able to get a seat.”

  “Oh, that is not a problem. People can’t come too often. The sensory overload would kill you sooner or later.”

  “I’ll chance it. Can I have two more cheeseburgers?” I asked smiling.

  Radeir laughed. “It’s upon your head.”

  Ten minutes later, Radeir started laughing. He couldn't believe this petite and pretty girl before him was half-way through her third cheeseburger.

  “I told you I was hungry,” I said, feeling like I really had bitten off more than I could chew and was on the verge of experiencing a food orgasm. The divine experience of the food had made me forget myself. “I guess we should get going.”

  My comment was negated by the sudden applause from the