The four travellers received sort of a warm welcome, in a way. Their guide had left them to spend some of his well-earned money. Victor wasn’t sure whether the people of Tao were excited or threatened by his presence. Still, it was only a small town, and it wouldn’t take long for them to find Miss Ling.
They split up, and Victor and Sam entered a small shop where a withered old lady sat in a rocking chair in the corner. She smiled at them with creamy gapped teeth and greeted them in her local language.
“Yes, hallo good lady!” said Victor. “I was wondering if you could help me find someone; uh, her name is Ling…”
The woman laughed at propped herself up, and shuffling to a box of goods she selected a pair of shoes and offered them to him.
“Oh, no,” Victor persisted. “You don’t understand. I’m looking for Ling! Miss Leabelle Ling?”
“Every second person here is bound to be called Ling,” Sam jeered.
Victor tried again. “Xo shimi namba,” he said in what he hoped was the native tongue. “Zetsa Ling? Leabelle Ling?”
The woman’s friendly smile perished and she turned stone cold. Her eyes flared with anger and in a bout of screaming she pushed them both out of the store. There Victor stood confused in the dusty street. “What did I say?”
Sam was on the verge on uncontrollable laughter. “You said that her store was full of fungi, and then you called Miss Ling a three-toed sloth.”
He bowed his head. “Oh, well I can understand her anger then. Maybe you should do the talking at the next store.”
She nodded, and giggled. “Yep.”
ns 172.69.58.165da2