“The innkeeper roared with rage, and would no doubt have gone in pursuit, save that I stepped up and blocked his way. ‘Innkeeper!’ I said loudly, ‘I wish to settle my bill.’ ‘In a minute,’ he snarled, ‘first I’m gonna get that lousy—’ ‘Now!’ I insisted; ‘I’m a busy man and I must be on my way!'”
“You should have let him go, Barley,” grumbled the Director. “Damned impudence of that wizard—cheating on his bill!”
Barley shrugged. “Perhaps so, but at the time my burning desire was to be rid of the place; it stank, and I was rather peeved by the aches and pains in my back from sleeping on the wretched cot which this parsimonious innkeeper had provided for quite a steep charge.”
“Frugality is the necessary basis of profit,” insisted the accountant. “No doubt,” replied Barley, “but it’s unpleasant to be the source of the profit oneself.” ” ‘Course!” snorted the Director. “Never sleep in one of my own hostels; fit only for the herd.”
“In any event,” continued Barley, “the innkeeper decided to forego his quarrel and returned to the counter. Reaching into my pocket, I took out a coin and tossed it onto the counter. Then, before the innkeeper could scoop it up, Il Conde’s shrunken head thrust itself beside me. His eyes, normally half-closed in reverie, were now wide open; he peered intently at the coin, his lips quivering with excitement. ‘Gasp!—a Ruiz!’ he cried. ‘Been looking for one for years!’ The innkeeper made to pick up the coin. ‘Unhand that, knave!’ shrilled the nobleman, cracking the man’s knuckles with his cane. So fierce was his countenance, so menacing the flourish of his cane, that the innkeeper fell back in fright. Not taking his eyes from the coin for a moment, Il Conde said to me, in a quavering voice—’Sirrah, I am an accomplished numismatist, and I must have that coin. What will you take for it?’
“You can imagine my irritation. I thrust the coin toward the dotard and snapped, ‘You can have it—just pay my bill!’ And with that, I stalked out of the inn. Outside, it was raining again and I hurried into the coach. Before long, all were aboard and we set off. The constant rain was a damper on our spirits, and only the tersest of exchanges took place. By midafternoon, however, the clouds began to scatter. The first ray of sunlight pierced downward like an arrow of gold; this shaft was soon followed by a full volley—before long the day was as bright and sunny as you could ask for. Soon an animated conversation broke out, this time centered upon the person of La Contessa.
“La Contessa’s given name, as it developed, was Freya; the oddity of this name for a Grenadine being explained by a trace of Alsask blood in her family. In age somewhere between thirty and forty, her life had been spent primarily in the acquisition of husbands, an enterprise she had elevated to a fine art. Seven aisles had she trod to the tune of wedding marches, and the result of her latest wedding mumbled beside her with toothless gums. While she was too delicate to dwell upon it, it was clear enough that each of her spouses had been of the order of the current one; her husbands seemed to increase in age and wealth as her career progressed. As it was obvious that the seventh was soon to follow his predecessors, it did not take great insight to see that she had her own motives in accompanying Il Conde to Prygg, which focused about the nonagenarian figure of Prince Roman, the extravagantly wealthy cousin of the King of Pryggia.
“And so the day passed. La Contessa seemed to take a kindly interest in the wretched little dwarf. Several times she attempted to draw out from him his life story—peculiar woman!—but the horrid gnome was too shy to respond with more than stumbling half-sentences. Eventually I dozed off for some few hours, only to awaken when the coach came to a halt. Night had almost fallen, but there was still enough light to discern the features of the surrounding countryside. Would it were otherwise!—for we had arrived at the beginning of the next leg of the journey; but a few miles distant loomed the Grimwald, most ancient and somber of Grotum’s forests. Shivering a bit, I hurried into the inn.