The Stranger

  I lay on my dining room table again, in the usual ostentatious serving-dish pose. The curtains, of course, had been parted by some invisible jerk, so I couldn’t escape the lovely view of the ancient palace. My heart tightened in terror, as if an invisible hand was giving me painful intramuscular injections, but for the moment I had the strength to resist. To my great surprise, I even started getting angry. Of course, anger didn’t help me in any way; but then again, I didn’t know what would happen next. In any case, I latched onto this rage, as it seemed to me to be one of the better alternatives to fear.

  Some wretch won’t let me get a good night’s sleep in my own house, which I pay good money for, for crying out loud! Some foul, loathsome thing is preventing me from getting any rest! And instead of a suspenseful nightmare, I am being subjected to this moronic boredom, I told myself angrily. I did all I could to get myself worked up. And I ended up getting myself worked up with a vengeance.

  Good show, Max! Juffin’s voice in my head interrupted my furious inner monologue. Good show, and it’s working! Now try to be scared again. Your fright is excellent bait. If you don’t show any fear at all, this thing might leave you alone. And we have to lure it out of its foxhole somehow. Be a good boy now, act as if you’re giving up.

  It’s easy enough to tell someone to “be scared.” By then I was ready to go on a rampage and smash everything in sight. On the crest of my own righteous anger, I think I was nearing victory over the horrible stupor that had turned me into the most helpless creature in the universe.

  One good thing about this kind of situation is that if you really want to be frightened, then all the scary stories in the world of nightmares are at your disposal. I needed only to focus on the dark triangular window in the house across the street, and the pathway of sand leading from it, and all my anger turned to a fear that was almost panic. By way of experiment, and for my own emotional well-being, as well, I tried to get angry again. It worked! I enjoyed being able to change my own mood at will. Not having to choose the lesser of two evils, but rather having both at my command—that was variety for you!

  At last I managed to find a balance between fear and anger: to be frightened, but not to the point of losing all other feeling; to be angry, but to remain conscious of my own helplessness.

  Then the hand inside the darkness again threw a fistful of sand, then another, and another. The ghostly path between our windows grew longer. An eternity went by, and a second eternity followed. As a third eternity drew to a close, my heart again tried to refuse to take part in the drama, but I was able to negotiate with it. I could have woken up, but I didn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow to see the next episode. If Juffin wanted to get a glimpse of the star in this matinée, I would try to give him the pleasure. I would tolerate as much as I could, and then just a bit more. It was sort of like going to the dentist: the kind of satisfaction you don’t want to drag out for too long.

  When the edge of the sandy path neared the table with the heap of fear and anger formerly known as Max lying on it, I actually felt relief. The denouement was near.

  Sure enough, a dark silhouette appeared in the window and took the first step along the ghostly pathway. Step by step, he drew nearer to me: a middle-aged man with indistinct facial features and empty, shining eyes.

  All of a sudden, I realized I was no longer in control of the situation. Not because the whole situation was too ghastly, and not even because the creature was not (and could not be) human. In theory, I was ready for that. But I could already feel some kind of connection between us, and it was a great deal worse than any fear or spiritual turmoil. I not only felt, but saw, how something started pouring out of my body. It wasn’t blood; it was some kind of invisible substance. All I knew was that my further existence in any form would be impossible without it.

  Something started squeezing my throat. I can’t say it was violent, but it was unexpected enough to wake me up. So the “rag,” the merits of which Sir Juffin Hully had talked so much about, worked beautifully. And most important of all, it had worked just in the nick of time! One more second, and I’m not sure there would have been any of me left to wake up.

  I swung my legs down off the dining room table, unsurprised by anything anymore. The frame of the open window creaked balefully in the wind. I closed the window and shut the curtains with relief. My body hinted, embarrassed, that it felt like fainting dead away. I shook my fist in reply: just you try!

  Good morning, Max! Juffin’s energetic voice was honey to my tormented senses. Good show, boy! Good show! Congratulations on reaching the end of this unpleasant adventure. Now we know everything we need to know, so the finale can’t be too far away. Take a swig of Elixir of Kaxar as though it’s your wedding day, brush off your feathers, and run over to my place. Righto? Over and out.

  All right, I answered, and dragged my feet back into the bedroom. Five minutes later, I went down to the bathroom with a hop, skip, and a jump, restored to life by the most medicinal of all drinks in this World.

  Juffin’s words about “reaching the end of this unpleasant journey” only now began making sense to me. Did that mean it was over? Could it possibly mean that I would never have to have that terrible nightmare again? Sinning Magicians, what else did a man need to be truly happy!

  On my way to work I decided that one thing a man definitely needs is a light breakfast at the Sated Skeleton. With that, I turned off into the warm half-gloom of the pub. Sir Juffin Hully never required his subordinates to go to work on an empty stomach, even in the line of duty.

  There were more people than usual at the House by the Bridge. Sir Lonli-Lokli was crouched on the edge of a chair writing in a thick notebook in a pose so uncomfortable that it was painful even to look at him. Sir Melifaro, who had only just returned from a visit to his parents’ estate, leaped out of his office like a genie from a bottle. He crowed that the most famous of illegitimate princes was among us and that he was unspeakably glad to bask in the glow of my fame. I thought that the poor guy had gone nuts until it occurred to me that he was referring to the royal gift that had been given to me three days . . . no, an eternity ago. Nightmares can convince anyone that life is all vanity of vanities and weariness unto death. Shaking my fist at my daytime counterpart, I swore I would “tell Dad,” and went to see Juffin.

  I found Lady Melamori in his office, looking much too gloomy for a recently released “prisoner.”

  “Glad you could come so quickly, Max. Our business can wait for an hour. It seems that we have some family matters that need taking care of. I think I should call the others in as well.”

  “Family matters? What do you mean?” I asked in dismay.

  “I’ve been robbed,” Melamori said. “I came home and saw that everything had been turned upside down. All of my jewelry boxes were opened. A hole in the heavens above that thief! I am so upset! When I joined the Secret Investigative Force I was sure that crooks would go three blocks around my house to avoid me.”

  “What’s the problem, my lady?” I asked. “Start tracking the scoundrel and the case will be closed before you know it.”

  “But there’s not a track to be found!” said Melamori. “It’s as though everything missing simply picked up and left.”

  “I’ve always said that living alone is not the life for a lovely little lady!” announced Sir Melifaro as he entered the office. “If I had been in your bedchamber, nothing like this could have happened, my precious!”

  “I’d rather get a dog,” said Melamori pursing her lips. “It would guard the house, and eat a whole lot less too. They say that dogs can even understand human speech, which is more than I can say for you.”

  Lonli-Lokli politely let Sir Kofa enter the room first. Everyone was there except for Lookfi, who, as I understood, was not usually called in on such occasions. Our affairs had little to do with his work at the Main Archive.

  “Well, what do you think of the news?” Juffin asked, fixing each of us with a hard gaze. “We’ve taken a
hit! I hope you all agree that Melamori’s possessions should be returned immediately! The lady is upset, which does not bode well for our general humor, and the whole city is waiting on pins and needles to witness the retaliatory acts of the Secret Investigative Force. Dear girl, I know that you haven’t told anyone anything, but Echo is full of two-bit clairvoyants. Sir Melifaro, I’m assigning this to you. Do whatever you see fit. Max and I have other urgent matters to attend. I’m sorry.”

  Melifaro immediately seated himself on the arm of Melamori’s chair. I noted without any particular pleasure that she buried her nose in his shoulder.

  “I need a list of the stolen objects, sweetie,” said Melifaro, toying with the ends of his colleague’s long bangs.

  “Thirty-eight rings, all with the Blimm family crest on the inside. Money . . . I don’t know how much there was, I didn’t count . . . A lot of money. A couple thousand crowns maybe . . . In other words, I don’t know. Eight necklaces, also with the family crest on the clasp. In my family we always engrave precious jewelry. I’ve always teased my parents about it. I guess I shouldn’t have . . . I think that’s about it. They didn’t touch the talismans. Oh, I almost forgot, they also took the little doll that you gave me on Middle of the Year Day. Remember Sir Melifaro?”

  Melifaro winced.

  “Of course I remember. You don’t easily forget such huge burns in your pocket! It was a beautiful toy. Strange that they would have taken that. It stands to reason they’d want the rest of the stuff. Sir Juffin, perhaps you’ll treat us to some kamra, since we’re all here. Then we can think through this one together and chat. I’ve been feeling a bit listless in that little village lately. I’m sure that your important business can wait for just another half hour, can’t it?”

  “Anything can wait for half an hour, except the bodily functions General Boboota is so fond of discussing! All right, may there be a sea of kamra brought over from the Glutton; only you’ll have to work to deserve it, old boy!”

  “Don’t I know it! Say Juffin, don’t you think it’s a bit odd to steal the smallest and most expensive things in a house, which one can carry away in the pocket of a looxi, and then grab a doll that’s the size of a three-year-old child as an afterthought? It isn’t a worthless trifle, of course; but in that case, why not take all the dishes, or the armchair from the living room? As far as I know, they would have been more valuable than the doll.” Melifaro had left his place on the arm of Melamori’s chair and was squatting next to the boss, who was forced to look down at him from above.

  “I knew you’d catch that. You already deserve one portion of kamra.”

  “I may have deserved it, but if we are to drink, then let’s do it together! Well, then, Sir Kofa, which of the honorable city policemen comes first on our White List?”

  “Sir Kamshi, but he’s not at the Ministry right now. Try to get in touch with Lieutenant Shixola. He occupies fourth place, and he also specializes in burglaries.”

  “All right, I’ll be back in just a moment. Anyone who so much as touches my kamra will choke on it!” With that, Melifaro was gone.

  His pace impressed me. If somebody wanted to make a movie about the great Investigator Sir Melifaro of Echo, they’d have to settle with filming a series of shorts.

  “What’s this White List?” I asked Sir Kofa. He laughed heartily. Even Lady Melamori let out a giggle.

  “Oh Max! That’s just a little game of ours. From time to time we make an objective list of a dozen of the brightest members of the Police Force. The ones we’d want to be involved with, should the need arise. In fact, they do have smart people working over there, but with bosses like Boboota and Foofloss the poor fellows will still end up a laughing stock. And making it onto our White List is a great honor for them. They swell with pride if they get listed. For them it’s even more important than Royal Gratitude, which Boboota is awarded once a year because of his rank. I see you’ve caught on!”

  I’ll say! I couldn’t stop laughing, impressed with the clever idea of such a chart. “The Top Twelve” at the House by the Bridge! Extra, extra, read all about it! Get your copy of the new chart!

  Even Lonli-Lockli livened up.

  “The White List really helps bolster the work ethic over there, Sir Max,” he said in an edifying manner.

  “Sir Shurf is one of the movers and shakers behind the List,” chuckled Juffin. “And here is our kamra!”

  The jugs of kamra weren’t even visible from behind the mountain of treats that arrived from the Glutton. Melifaro reappeared instantly, as if led by his own nose, and he came bearing a pile of self-inscribing tablets. He leapt over the back and into his chair, and was the first to snatch a pastry and pop the whole thing into his mouth. He looked a bit like Kurush: rumpled, smeared with pastry cream, but very happy. He emptied his cup in one gulp and buried himself in a tablet. For a minute and a half—an eternity by his standards—he read, deep in concentration. Then he jumped up for another pastry, and began holding court with his mouth full. A few seconds later his speech became comprehensible for the rest of us.

  “Ah-hah! Just as I thought! In every case a doll like that one was stolen. Besides a load of valuables, of course. But the main thing is that dolls feature in each and every list of stolen goods. Unbelievable! Darling, it seems I gave you a rotten apple. And not without reason! Slighted suitors are terrible in their fury. Now, where did I buy that thing? At some stall in Twilight Market. Well, no matter. I’ll turn the place upside down when I get there.”

  “Hold on a minute,” said Sir Kofa. “Tell me, what kind of doll was it? What did your doll look like, Melamori?”

  “It looked like a redheaded boy of around twenty years old. It looked almost like a real boy; just shorter. Very handsome face. And the hands were made so beautifully. I examined them closely. Long slender fingers—even the palms were lined. It was wearing some foreign attire made of expensive cloth. I can’t say I know where it was from. The garment began above waist length and flowed down to the floor. And it had a splendid collar, something like a short looxi. It was even a little bit warm, like a human. I was somewhat afraid of it. I put it in the parlor, although people usually keep gifts like that in their bedrooms.”

  “Enough said, my girl! There is no need to go to Twilight Market, Melifaro. Eat, take your time. I’ll wager there’s only one craftsman in all of Echo who does that kind of work: Jubo Chebobargo, the man with the magic hands!” Kofa announced triumphantly.

  “Sweet,” Juffin purred. “Now all three of you have something to do this evening. And Max and I will take Sir Shurf and go introduce ourselves to . . . Oh, what is it now! A hole in the heavens above you, boy!” This was addressed to a terrified courier who had blundered in to the room without even knocking.

  “An evil force is on the loose!” He mumbled breathlessly. “An evil force is on the loose in the Street of Old Coins! It savaged someone already!”

  “Oh, I see. An emergency call; that’s what it is. An emergency call,” said Juffin impassively, giving him a curt nod. “Run along then, boy. Why are you shaking like a leaf? Haven’t you ever seen an evil spirit before? Are you new here?”

  The courier nodded feverishly and dissolved into the gloom of the corridor.

  “Let’s go, boys,” said Juffin. “I can’t imagine why such a thing would want to savage a human. As far as I know, creatures like that usually prefer other games. If it hadn’t been for your appetite, Sir Melifaro, we wouldn’t have missed the beginning of the show! Okay, you have your own business to attend to. Cheers!” Then he turned to me. “Don’t just sit there. Let’s go!”

  The whole time we were in the office I had been feeling somewhat sedated, and at that moment I can’t say my condition had improved. Nonetheless, I did somehow manage to stand up and drag myself to the amobiler.

  More than anything else I wished someone would tell me what was going on. But Juffin made it clear he had no idea himself.

  “You see, Max, you kept a firm grip on yourself, an
d that gave me time to study the beast. I was absolutely certain that it wasn’t capable of that—of attacking people in broad daylight . . . By the way, Sir Shurf, keep in mind that there is only one course of action in this situation: destroy it. So you’ll be the only one getting your hands dirty. We’ll just watch. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lonli-Lokli said, nodding. His face looked as though he’d just been told to wash the dishes.

  “Do you know what was visiting you, Max? The remains of your honorable neighbor: Sir Tolakan Enn himself.”

  “How’s that possible?”

  “I think he made a mistake moving into that house. The place is inhabited by a Phetan; it’s clear to me now.”

  “A Phetan?”

  “A Phetan is a spirit from another world, taught to do specific tasks and sent on a mission here. Even during the Epoch of Orders, the appearance of such beasts was extremely rare, because as they master new skills they become more useful, but also more dangerous. The longer a Phetan lives, the more powerful it becomes. Sooner or later it rebels against the Magician who summoned it, and . . . Most of the time the Phetan will take the body of its master. You see, Phetans miss having a body of their own; and once they get one, they set off in search of food.

  “It’s not too difficult to destroy a Phetan—you’ll see that for yourself very soon—but it’s next to impossible to detect its presence. A Phetan surrounds itself with an almost impenetrable protective field. Its main goal is not to attract too much attention. This protective field prevents you from homing in on it. You can’t even detect it. Even if you do notice something, you won’t be able to recall it later. The Phetan feeds its new body on the energy of sleeping people, and after they wake up—if they wake up—they can’t remember what happened. We really are lucky, Sir Max. Very lucky! I’ll tell you why later; that’s another story. There’s one thing that still bothers me, though. Since when does a Phetan attack someone who’s not asleep? I’ve never heard of such a thing before. But no matter—we’ll figure this thing out.”