“But you’re a true philosopher!”

Sir Juffin Hully seemed to be quite satisfied with me.

Let me return to describing my studies. My passion for the printed word had never been as useful to me as it was during those first days. At night I devoured books by the dozens from Sir Juffin’s library. I learned about my new surroundings, at the same time grasping the idiosyncrasies of the locals and cramming my head full of colorful turns of phrase. Chuff tagged along at my heels and was fully engaged in my schooling for he gave me lessons in Silent Speech. Evenings (the middle of the day, by my personal clock), I reported to Sir Juffin. He kept me company at dinner and unobtrusively monitored all aspects of my progress. An hour or two later, Sir Juffin would disappear into his bedroom and I would move on to the library.

One evening, roughly two weeks after my abrupt arrival in Echo, Sir Juffin announced that I now fully resembled an ordinary person, and thus deserved a reward.

“Today we’re dining in the Glutton, Max! I’ve been looking forward to this moment.”

“Dining where?”

“The Glutton Bunba, the most elegant mangy dive of them all: hot pâtés, the best kamra in Echo, the splendid Madam Zizinda, and not a single sourpuss to be seen at this hour of day.”

“What do you mean, not a single sourpuss?”

“Actually, not a single unpleasant face of any kind—but you know this place better than most Echoers!”

“How’s that?”

“You’ll see. Put on your shoes and let’s go. I’m as hungry as an armless thief.”