More Short Stories to Read on a Bus, a Car, a Train, a Plane (or a comfy chair anywhere). Colin Palmer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ you think I would go anywhere else other than here, to the best?”

      Luigi wasn’t sure if she was actually flirting or being patronising but he was certain that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She looked like an exotic Sophia Loren and he was willing to let his mind believe she was flirting … nothing wrong with a little fantasizing! He hurried around his little desk and made a show of dusting off a padded armchair and offered her a seat. She primly sat down, crossing her legs and arms and raised both eyebrows at him this time. “Yes, so, Showvarrni,” he waited again for her smiling acknowledgement, “how may I help you?”

      She opened her clutch purse and drew out a slip of paper which she placed on the desk in front of him without a word. She watched as he looked at the elaborate patterns on the paper and could see the obvious question developing across his face, then as he opened his mouth to speak, she quickly interjected one single word. “Trishul.”

      “What, Signora, sorry, Chovarni? I, I didn’t catch that …”

      “You don’t know what a Trishul is? I thought you were the best? Perhaps I was mistaken.. " she made to stand up, reaching toward the paper on the desk as she rose.

      “Trishul is a cross,” he look her squarely in the eye as he spoke and she nodded and resumed her seat. “What I don’t know is what this is,” his eyes glanced to the pattern on the note before him. “You were not mistaken, I am still the best but perhaps you could help me with this and what it means in relation to a Trishul?” He was looking directly at her eyes, his master craftsman brain was working hard now and effectively masking his previous shyness.

      “What else could Trishul represent, besides a cross which you correctly identified. You surprised me a little Armandino. I like your surprises. Give me more!”

      “Ah, it was originally a trident, and I wish I could pronounce the name, and yours, as eloquently as you do, but Trishul in more modern times is in the form of a cross, like a religious artifact. And this pattern …?” He didn’t glance at the paper again, instead maintaining their steady mutual gaze. Beautiful woman or not, he was still the only professional craftsman present.

      He had his finger on the slip of paper and she reached out and put her hand near his, tracing the elaborate pattern neatly with a finger without even looking. “It is indeed the cross that I seek and this is the adornment I want on the haft and the quillion.”

      His bushy eyebrows rise together again, “that is a knife or a dagger then rather than a traditional cross,” he nods at her, “and the blade?”

      “As you would normally create Armandino, the sharpest of sharpest edges available,” she smiled.

      They spoke of length, weight, balance, material, the necessity of a camouflaging scabbard and Luigi became absorbed in this new project, this new very interesting project. It was a relatively easy task for him but the very interesting part was the customer. Finally, they arrived at money, as all business transactions are wont.

      “This won’t be wildly expensive but you will have to leave a deposit to cover the cost of the raw materials. For that, I can give no discount,” he shrugged.

      “How much, the deposit? And how much in total?”

      “The materials are exotic but easily obtainable, around three thousand Euros. Three will be enough,” he watched her eyes as he mentioned the amount, she did nothing but nod so he went on. “My charge for moulding, machining, tempering and finishing will be considerably higher than that, but,” he added quickly, “it is a little quiet at the moment so I could spare a small discount, say, a total of twelve thousand Euros.”

      She didn’t blink, instead reaching into her clutch again and withdrawing a small billfold. “Three now and another nine thousand on completion, yes?” This time it was he nodding. “And how long until completion?”

      “About two weeks, but I’ll have to wait nearly a week for the special alloy. If it comes sooner I can finish sooner. Maybe I can call you …?”

      She smiled and stood up, proffering a bundle of cash toward him. “No need Armandino, I will be back in two weeks.” He took the cash and was opening a desk drawer to retrieve a receipt book when he heard her tinkling footsteps. Surprised, he looked up. She was almost at the door when she whirled back to face him. She waved, a dismissal. “No need for that either. Goodbye for now Armandino, I will see you again soon.” She blew him a kiss.

      “Wait, wait, what was your name again?” He started after her.

      “Borsaki my darling, Borsaki,” and with that, she turned on her heel, the tinkling of the bell over the door and her heels dissipating together.

      Luigi walked back and slumped down at his desk, the cash still ensconced in one hand but his eyes remained firmly fixed on the closed door where he had last seen her. He shook his head a little, and not for a second recognised the different name she had given before leaving. It was sometime before he locked the door and went upstairs to his little home to phone the metal supplier.

      The elegant lady walked confidently around the corner to a waiting limousine. The back door opened as she approached and she began to laugh before getting into the car, sinking into the plush leather and surveying the elderly, and some surprised, faces around her. The oldest, a slightly built man dressed in a simple dark suit that clashed heavily with the large gold hoops hanging from each ear, grinned back at her.

      “It went well then, I see,” and when she laughed a little more he added, “so tell us what you did to this little man so we may laugh along with you!”

      “First, first, I told him my name was Chovani,” she laughed more, “then, wait for this one, I told him I would call him Armandino!” Some had laughed at the first name but all of the men broke into laughter at the second.

      “You jest child?” asked one of the other men, also dressed plainly but he too adorned with somewhat smaller hoop earrings.

      “No, no jest, and I thought he was supposed to be worldly and clever but he couldn’t see past my beautiful face … men!” She spat the last word savagely and silenced the laughter. She grinned but not the smile Luigi had seen, this time there appeared to be too many teeth, not beautifully full as he had seen but sharpened, pointed like the teeth of a shark. “Then I told him the truth, I told him who I really was, I told him my name was Borsaki and do you think that idiot noticed? NO, he was still far too enraptured in his appointed task, too sad that the beauty in front of him was leaving.”

      “What if he is aware of the Romani folk?” another asked the elder.

      The old man turned his eyes to the woman. “Yes, so you tell this man you are a witch, a good witch, then you use the name of a cursed one to address him, and you leave after telling him you are in fact an evil witch! What if he does know the Romani and works it out? He will not make the Trishul if he knows.” His voice gathered volume as he spoke and he pointed fixedly, accusingly, at the woman, with a single gnarled finger.

      She laughed out loud, again, slapping her thigh in glee at their combined looks of shock. “Because I gave him the Solax to engrave onto the handle and he did not recognise the old speech. When he completes the engraving he will be putting a hex on himself, a curse that will see him dead within minutes, or hours, or days if he is extremely careful. But you СКАЧАТЬ