Free The File on H. by Ismaíl Kadaré Page A

dangerously creaking wooden staircase in single file. The innkeeper pushed open the door to one of only two upstairs rooms.
    â€œHere is your room, gentlemen. The bedsheets are clean. If you wish, you may make a fire in the fireplace. At night the wind blows a lot, but if you close the shutters you won’t hear or feel a thing. They’re thick, made of oak, and bulletproof. And here are some slow-burning candles for the night.”
    The innkeeper’s eyes lit up, and then he furrowed his brow in thought.
    â€œIt’s very odd, but two weeks ago I dreamed that I had two guests who were very different from my usual clientele. They came on horseback, and their mounts had, in place of manes, unlit lanterns hanging around their necks, I thought in my dream: Let’s hope that is a good omen! And then, two days later, news of your visit reaches me….”
    The foreigners exchanged glances.
    â€œDoes it happen that rhapsodes sometimes lodge at your inn?” Bill asked.
    â€œRhapsodes? Hmm...Of course they do. Even though …”
    â€œYes?”
    The innkeeper made a wide gesture with his arms, as if to express deep regret.
    â€œThey used to come much more often. These days there are not all that many of them left.”
    â€œHow come? That’s not what some people reported to us. Apparently your inn is at the point where all their routes cross."
    â€œThat is right, sir. And I am glad that you know. It is perfectly accurate information. Perhaps I said more than I meant. What I meant to say was that in the old days there were more players of the
lahuta
the long-necked instrument with one string, with which you may be familiar."
    â€œThat goes without saying,’ both travelers said simultaneously.
    â€œSo....But if you want to see these singers." the innkeeper continued, “then there’s nowhere apart from here that you’ll find them, except perhaps at the Inn of the Two Roberts, where
lahuta
players still drop in, but that’s a long way away.”
    â€œWe’ll talk again about that," said Max. “We really do want to get in touch with them.“
    â€œI’ll be glad to help, gentlemen," the innkeeper said, as he stood to one side to let in the lads who were bringing up the luggage.
    Late that evening, the governor was busy at his desk, drafting a report for the Minister of the Interior, and he glanced from time to time at the account that his informer Dull had written on the two foreigners’ first day at the Buffalo Inn.
    He does write well, the old devil, thought the governor. He may be a mere informer, but his prose is better than what you find in the
Albanian Effort
.
    He had long secretly envied Dull’s style, especially turns of phrase like “leaving aside the fact that this task is not incumbent upon the present writer," or all those “notwithstanding"s that he sprinkled around his sentences with such elegance. The governor himself used to try inserting the latter word wherever he could in his letters, even when it did not really fit, and on rereading his texts, he always found himself obliged to cross it out.
    â€œBarely had they arrived at the Buffalo Inn and after exchanging a few words with the innkeeper (leaving aside the fact that this task is not incumbent upon the present writer, I am obliged to point out that some of the innkeeper’s words, specifically when he told the newcomers that he had seen them in a dream, appeared to the present writer to be not only meaningless but quite inappropriate in the mouth of a citizen of our kingdom when speaking to foreigners) — after exchanging a few words, then, the foreigners remained in their room.”
    The governor skimmed through the report and stopped at the point where Dull Baxhaja described the opening of the suitcases and especially of the trunks that contained the machinery, not to mention the thousands of file cards that the Irishmen took out of various card boxes