The Dead Mountaineer's Inn (2015) - Plot & Excerpts
“I have no idea who he is,” the owner said, examining his glass under the light. “He signed the book claiming to be a salesman traveling for personal reasons. But he’s no salesman. A half-crazy alchemist, magician, inventor maybe … but not a salesman.” We were sitting in front of the fireplace. The coals were hot; the armchairs ancient, sturdy, reliable. The port was warm, infused with lemon, and fragrant. The low light was comfortable, ruddy, utterly cozy. A blizzard was whipping itself up outside and causing the fireplace to whistle. The inn was quiet, except for the peal of sobbing laughter that burst out every once in a while, as if from a cemetery, accompanied by the clack of a well-shot billiard ball. Kaisa was banging pans together in the kitchen. “Salesman are usually cheap,” the owner continued thoughtfully. “But Mr. Moses is not cheap—not at all. ‘Might I ask,’ I asked him, ‘Whose recommendation I have to thank for the honor of your stay?’ Instead of answering me he took a hundred-crown bill out of his pocket, set fire to it with his lighter, then lit a cigarette off of that and answered, blowing smoke in my face: ‘The name is Moses, sir.
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