Chapter 4: Of Songs and Townsfolk Part 4

—You like languages a lot —I said, as I bit into a fritter and sent a bit of sugar flying in the process.

—Yes! I love thinking about how different cultures see the world through their words —she replied with a radiant smile—. It’s a shame that languages are only used within their own countries, or in festivals. The UCN, by imposing Hesperian as the global language, took away a lot of the personality from the towns.

—Well, Hesperian common basic is so easy to learn —I shrugged, feeling like I was giving an impromptu lecture—. It was used to facilitate global trade. And with trains, well, everyone had to be connected somehow.

The raccoon looked at me as if she were listening to a history teacher she hadn’t asked for. Mi Fan was also watching me, but with a hint of surprise, as she popped another donut into her mouth. I guess even we can be educational now and then, though we don’t always realize it.

I took a sip of my hot chocolate and, with a gesture that was meant to seem solemn, I pulled out my notebook, as if I were a private detective in the middle of an investigation. I opened it slowly, letting her see what I had written inside: phrases in different languages.

—Al-hayat al-abadiyya tajidunaha 'inda ghuroob al-'alam. —Phuyuy chaska llullupi k'uchushqa. —Calendarium desinit in rubinum.

The raccoon took my notebook and started looking over the phrases, while her little hat continued its struggle to stay on her head. That little rebellious hat seemed to have a life of its own. She scratched her head curiously, looked at me... and had the audacity to steal one of my fritters. I was left speechless as she popped it into her mouth, chewing it slowly while watching us with a mix of curiosity and boldness.

—This… —she said, still with her mouth half full—, is Maurian, Ruc, and ancient Hesperian… but there’s something off here. —She frowned—. It seems poorly written. The words don’t flow correctly. Something doesn’t fit.

While she spoke, she tried to grab my cup of milk, but this time I was faster and snatched it away before she could.

—Correct —I said, with a wide grin—. Well, unless you're an incredible actress, I don't think you're the murderer either. —I swished my tail happily, as if I had made a grand discovery.

Farhana and Mi Fan looked at me in surprise, as if I had just dropped a bomb.

—Yeah, well... one should never rule out suspects too quickly —I said, shrugging with the air of a wise detective—. It’s like in that episode of Columbo, you know, the nicest guy in the world, the one nobody would ever suspect. —I paused dramatically, looking at Farhana and Mi Fan as if I were sharing a big secret—. The guy hosted parties, always smiling, seemed like the heart of the community... and it turned out it was him all along!

Farhana raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

—Ah, but Columbo knew —I continued, wagging my tail from side to side as I settled back into my seat—. That trick of “just one more thing,” and suddenly, the guy was completely caught. As if Columbo had known from the very start, just waiting for everyone else to catch up. —I smiled, clearly enjoying myself—. So, no matter how nice you look, Farhana... —I made a playful gesture with my hands— we can’t rule you out so quickly.

Farhana raised an eyebrow, while Mi Fan kept calmly eating her donut, unfazed.

—Farhana, you know languages, and that’s not something many can say in this town —I said, lifting a finger as if about to make a grand revelation—. But as you mentioned, it’s written wrong. And that’s important. It means that with all your knowledge, you wouldn’t let such big mistakes slip by. Sure, it’s understandable, but… it’s not written with the precision of someone who truly cares about the language.

My gaze drifted for a moment, just in time to notice Farhana’s hand creeping dangerously close to my last apple donut. Before she could grab it, Mi Fan, my savior, snatched it up quickly. But instead of sharing it... she ate it slowly in front of me, never breaking eye contact, clearly enjoying the moment.

I sighed. Sometimes, being the hero isn’t appreciated enough.

—Anyway… AHEM. —I cleared my throat, regaining my posture—. Who else do you think might know a bit about these other languages? With only one school in town, I doubt there are many polyglots around. Even more intriguing… how did you learn so many languages?

Farhana shrugged, as if the answer were obvious.

—The House of History. There are books there, lots of old books. I always was interested in reading while everyone my age went out to play in the orchard. —She paused, clearly remembering those times—. I preferred the books. There were lots about languages, among other things.

As she spoke, she realized there were no fritters or hot chocolety milk left. She let out a sigh of resignation and, as if to complete her defeat, her little hat, which had been struggling to stay on the whole time, finally fell to the floor. She picked it up with an expression of fake dignity and gave me a look as if it were my fault.

—Well, it was fun while it lasted. —Farhana stood up from the seat with a sigh, adjusting her little hat as best she could—. I have to get back to work. I just want to say… I didn’t know Mr. Norton well, but we’re a close knit community. If you guys aren’t the murderers, and if you’re really investigating to bring the true culprit to light,then I wish you the best of luck.

With that, Farhana turned and started walking toward the kitchen. But she didn’t make it far before bumping into a chair, which sent her little hat flying once again. She stopped for a moment, holding her head high, pretending to maintain a dignity that was already long gone.

With a resigned sigh, she picked up the hat from the floor, put it back on, and continued walking, this time with a bit more care. Finally, she disappeared behind the kitchen door, and almost immediately we heard the sound of dishes crashing, followed by the irritated voice of the meerkat scolding her.

—It’s funny, isn’t it? —I said, still enjoying the echoes of the little scene in the kitchen—. Every place has its own kind of chaos.

Mi Fan said nothing, but her ears twitched slightly. We always knew how to read those small gestures.

I decided it was time to go; grabbed my wallet and tossed some Hesperian pesos on the table, enough for the food, and for the trouble that we gave Farhana today.