The Stranger

  “Excellent. That means that I won’t be the only one who’s dead tired at daybreak. But you know what? Your favorite Elixir of Kaxar can help you for another two or three days. Four if you’re lucky.” Juffin looked at me closely. “Has it ever occurred to you that it would be easier and much more practical to pack up and move, rather than shuffling around Headquarters with your eyes glued shut?”

  “No, it didn’t. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, now and then,” Juffin said smiling. “So do you want to stay in the Old City or move to the New? Then you’d have the chance to demonstrate your chief talent every day—driving the amobiler into the ground.”

  “If you need to change things, you should do it all at once. I’ll move to the New City! Somewhere there a sweet lady has opened a tavern. At one point I had the sense to give her the same advice I just heard from you. Funny, isn’t it, how much harder it is to take advice yourself than to give it to other people? By the way, you’re slandering me. I’ve never driven the amobiler so hard it broke down.”

  “Not yet, anyway. Here, take the key, and remember this address: 18 Street of Yellow Stones. I tried to find something awful, so you’d think it was cozy.”

  “I have a feeling there won’t be fewer than ten bathing pools.”

  “Only eight. Of course, there are sometimes fewer, even in the most elegant houses in the New City; but you see, I have principles I find hard to ignore.”

  “For certain things you should just say thank you immediately, so that you won’t be kicking yourself later, as Grand Magician Nuflin said.” I had just realized the magnitude of what my boss had done for me. “Juffin, you’re saving me! Do you want me to kiss the hem of your looxi? I see you don’t . . . But when did you have time to arrange all of this?”

  “What do you think Silent Speech is for? And the junior officials of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order? Better to eat now than spoil your appetite worrying about trifles. One of the messengers can move your menagerie and other household effects. How about good old Urf? He’s already used to helping you with your household affairs.”

  “You’re so wise, and I’m a dolt. You know, I’ll probably keep the house on the Street of Old Coins. I have a pillow fastened somewhere there, a plug in the Chink between Worlds.”

  Juffin began to laugh. That’s not the right word for it, though. He let out a guffaw that came from the bottom of his soul, infectious and long. I stared at him blankly. Whence this merriment?

  “What a bunch of baloney, Max! Maba was just joking with you. He loves practical jokes. You didn’t have to fasten that pillow to anything. You can take it with you wherever you wish, and continue your activities with the same amount of success. The secret isn’t under the pillow. It’s not even inside the pillow . . . Oh, Max, you’re so funny, you really are!”

  “So he was pulling my leg?” I felt a bit embarrassed. Still, I somewhat liked Sir Maba’s joke.

  “It’s all right, Juffin. Let there be one more deserted house on the Street of Old Coins. Who knows, maybe I’ll want to return there someday.”

  “Time will tell. Now then, release your captive.”

  Agon the Merchant, completely discombobulated by his metamorphosis, immediately sent a call to all his comrades in misfortune, after which he went into the detention cell.

  I rested my head on the table, exhausted. After all, we were all comrades in misfortune: the fashionable dandies in their gleaming belts, the chefs of the capital sporting the Earring of Oxalla, Melamori and I, and other visitors to the Quarter of Trysts, and the countless dwellers of all Worlds, bound hand and foot by spells, obligations, and destiny.

  “It’s not so bad, dear,” Lady Sotofa’s voice jerked me out of my dark whirlpool of homegrown philosophy into the bright world, where fresh kamra and a bracing nightshift awaited me.

  I smiled. “As soon as I meet a good person, I find out that her favorite hobby is reading my mind.”

  “Why would I need to do that, Max?” The old lady sniffed. “It’s just that you looked wise and mournful, like all boys when they’re thinking about their silly problems. Well, where are your poor devils hiding?”

  “You arrived nearly an hour before you promised,” Juffin exclaimed. “So don’t be too hard on us. You’ll have to wait.”

  “Oh, what luxury! I can’t remember the last time I had a whole hour to do nothing.”

  “Don’t count on having a whole hour. They could start arriving any minute now. What did I tell you? Here comes the first one.”

  The first one, by the way, was the same fellow that Kofa and I noticed in the Irrashi Inn at the very beginning of this story. Such coincidences do happen.

  Lady Sotofa’s hands worked wonders. Her lips weren’t still for a second. She managed to sympathize with every patient, and to joke with us at their expense simultaneously. The recent hostages of the belts, now free, informed her where they could be found in the upcoming dozen days. Kurush grumbled at the large amount of tedious work, but managed to process all the information. With a memory like his, he couldn’t forget anything if he tried.

  “They haven’t run afoul of the law, have they?” I wanted to know.

  “No, of course not,” Juffin assured me. “How can you condemn someone who had no choice? The only candidate for unpleasant repercussions is your friend Agon, since he took some of the illegal actions on his own initiative. But let him set sail for his sunny Tashera. I don’t ever want to see his backside again. Ah, yes, Sotofa! We have one more handsome specimen for you. You’ll like him, I promise. Let’s go.”

  Soon Xattel Min, the old Slingshot King, appeared in the doorway of the office, his eyes blinking in confusion. Seeing him now didn’t awaken any negative emotions in me. In a few minutes, the old man was dismissed, after being provided with a long list of qualified repairmen and housecleaners, though there wasn’t much hope he would make use of it.

  I greeted the dawn in my new house. Ella and Armstrong pattered about through all six rooms, meowing in delight. Sir Juffin Hully had strange notions about a “modest dwelling.” After a perfunctory glance around the house, I collapsed on the new bed and fell fast asleep. This time I didn’t dream about Melamori. As before, I had no hand in it. That part of my life had simply receded forever into the past, it seemed.

  At sundown, I was awakened by a call from Sir Kofa.

  I’m waiting for you at the Golden Rams, Max. Do you know how to get here?

  But Juffin said the food there was terrible! I objected sleepily.

  Of course he’d say that. Juffin’s the biggest snob in Echo. He’s like all provincials who’ve lived here a hundred years. I promise you’ll like it. Besides, your debtor is with me.

  Oh, Kofa, let me wake up first. What debtor?

  Captain Giatta. You saved more than just his life, and the fellow is determined to repay the kindness. To tell you the truth, Max, I don’t envy you. The captain has an extremely serious expression on his face, and his intentions are every bit as serious. He’s ready to wait three hundred years, if he has to, to return the favor you’ve done for him. In other words, the sooner you come, the more food you’ll get. Over and out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JOURNEY TO KETTARI

  “GOOD DAY,MR. BAD DREAM,” MELIFARO’S SMILE SEEMED TO spill beyond the edges of his face.

  “Bad night, Mr. Daydream.”

  For a fraction of a second, he stared at me in perplexity, then nodded with relief.

  “OK, I get it. That’s a good one, I must say. Did you think it up yourself?”

  “No, Lonli-Lokli did.”

  “Ha!”

  We were sitting in the Glutton Bunba. My colleague was dining after a hard day of work, and I was having breakfast before a no less hard night of work. Most likely I would sit in my own office, inhaling the dizzying smells of spring invading the office through open windows, and do the breathing exercises Lonli-Lokli had recently taught me. Our humorless Sir Shurf really was the preeminent expe
rt in this department.

  The onset of spring is not the best season for mending broken hearts, which is why recently I hadn’t been the happiest of men. If Melifaro had known me longer than half a year, he would immediately have recognized the biting tone of my ordinarily inoffensive jokes. Good golly, could that be true? Not even half a year had passed since I turned up in Echo. I shook my head in disbelief.

  “What’s wrong?” Melifaro asked.

  “I just thought about how long I’ve been hanging out here in Echo. Not that long at all.”

  “Yet you’ve already destroyed so many lives,” Melifaro said by way of praise, “and I’m sure you’re not going to stop there.”

  “True that,” I said. “You just wait and see.”

  “Juffin asked me to tell you not to worry about chewing too carefully,” Melifaro said with a hearty laugh. His voice expressed a tinge of envy.

  “He must want to try out a new enema on me, but his hopes are all in vain. My stomach can digest pieces that haven’t been chewed at all,” I said. But my heart skipped a beat. If Sir Juffin was planning to burden me with some insoluble problem—gosh, that was just what I needed!

  “He’s getting ready to reveal a secret to you. Huge letters reading ‘Caution! Dangerous Information Enclosed’ are printed across his forehead. I suspect you’ll have to gnaw the remains of several dozen Mutinous Magicians to wrest the great secret of a Universal Laxative from their criminal hands. Alas, I fear that my whole life I am destined to remain an ignorant witness of your malevolent intrigues.”

  “I’m leaving, then. Malevolent intrigues just sound too tempting.”

  “You’re not even going to finish your meal? You’ll starve to death while you’re on duty, and I’ll be dancing a jig on a little heap of ashes that remains of you.”

  “I’m not going to finish the meal, nor am I paying for it,” I replied, wrapping myself in my warm Mantle of Death. “I’m so fearsome that it doesn’t matter what I do.”

  With that, I strode boldly to the door. Our repartee could go on forever, and I was spurred on by a tantalizing mixture of curiosity and hope.

  When I arrived Sir Juffin Hully was just sniffing the contents of a jug of kamra. Then he nodded in satisfaction and filled his mug.

  “For the sake of experiment I compromised my principles. This kamra is not from the Glutton, Max. I ordered it from the Fatman at the Bend. I thought I’d just see how the little wife of our Lookfi earns her bread and butter. It’s not bad, not bad at all. Have you ever been there?”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s very bad of you. I’d go so far as to say it’s unpatriotic. Since the proprietress of the Fatman is the wife of our colleague, we have an obligation. But do sit down, Max. You could have finished your meal back there. That’s very unlike you, choosing work over food.”

  “You aren’t the only one who’s surprised,” I said. “You seem to know everything about me that there is to know, Juffin, even what I’ve left behind on my plate. It boggles the mind.”

  “Not everything. Just the most important things. I need to have a serious talk with you, Max. Very serious, indeed. I want to burden you with a problem.”

  “Finally!” I said ecstatically, and reached into my pocket for the little parcel with cigarette butts that I still managed to salvage from the Chink between Worlds. In other words, from under my own pillow.

  The teaching method of Sir Maba Kalox breaks down like this: many little treats, and no whip. All carrots, no stick. It works like a charm, every time. Tormented by the disgusting taste of the local tobacco, I spent days filching cigarettes from the inaccessible reaches of my own homeland, not bothering to struggle to understand how I was able to pull it off.

  “I’ve been saving this problem for you from the start,” Juffin began. “Only it seemed to me that we’d need to wait several years, to give you time to get used to our World. But it turns out that you’re already used to it. There’s nothing to wait for.”

  “I was just thinking about that myself,” I said, nodding. “It just occurred to me that Melifaro and I have known each other only half a year. And you brought him home only a few dozen days after I—”

  “You can say that again,” Juffin said. “I myself can hardly believe the speed of your progress, even though I knew what a clever fellow I was dealing with. I should have been prepared. In any case, I’m certain you’ll manage with this, and now is just the right time. A short journey to the end of the world—that’s just what you need, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Juffin, don’t hedge! You’ve whetted my curiosity to such a degree already that my head is spinning.”

  “I’m not hedging. I’m just waiting for you to make yourself comfortable, light up a smoking stick, and perk up your ears. It’s a long story, Max, and very convoluted.”

  “A hole in the heavens above you, sir! I adore long, convoluted stories.”

  And Juffin began.

  “There’s something going on in my home city of Kettari, Max.”

  I gaped at him. I had anticipated any beginning to the story except this one, that’s for sure! Juffin smiled an understanding smile.

  “Your knowledge of the geography of the Unified Kingdom is still rather superficial.”

  “Please don’t spare my self-confidence, sir. I never take it with me when I leave home. I know nothing about your geography. It’s a fact.”

  Juffin nodded and began unfolding a map. I stared at it, enchanted. Local cartography is its own branch of art. My chief tapped the neatly clipped nail of his narrow finger on a small, bright dot nestled in the west among finely delineated mountain peaks.

  “That’s Kettari, Max. And Echo is here. See it?” His finger came to rest on the miniature depiction of a town in the lower part of the map. “Not too far, but not so very near, either. Do you know what this brightly colored circle means?”

  I shook my head.

  “It means that the main occupation of the city’s inhabitants is arts and crafts of various kinds. From time immemorial Kettari has been known for its carpets. Even when I was a boy they were inimitable, though there used to be many more fantastic things in the World than there are now. No one makes such fine rugs anywhere else. Naturally, the Capital is eager to do trade with Kettari: they like luxury here.”

  “That enormous carpet the color of dark amber lying in your drawing room is from there. Am I right?”

  “Right you are. How did you guess?”

  “Because . . . because on the edges there is an embroidered inscription ‘Kettari Honey.’” I burst out laughing. Juffin did, too, of course.

  “A vampire in your mouth, son! Are you going to listen or not?”

  “Yes, yes.” I poured myself some more kamra and assumed an expression of intense concentration.

  “Several dozen years ago in Echo it became customary to travel to Kettari in large caravans. It was quite convenient, so no one was surprised by the new practice. Even early on, I noticed that a native of Kettari always accompanied every caravan. I figured that if my countrymen wanted to earn a little money, what right did I have to prevent them? Of course, at first not everyone who wanted to go shopping was willing to go in a large group and pay for the services of a guide. There were a few curious incidents: for example, some of the blockheads from the Capital couldn’t find the road to Kettari. They returned home distraught and spread around some nonsense about Kettari being destroyed. That was no surprise, since idiots abound everywhere, and a person will invent all kinds of justifications for his stupidity. But all these stories convinced our merchants that a small fee for the Master Caravan Leaders, as my countrymen like to call themselves, is the lesser of evils. No one wants to lose time, to suffer setbacks, and to become a laughing stock, do they?”

  “You say that grownup people with all their wits about them couldn’t find the road to your Kettari?” I asked, amazed. “Are the roads in the Unified Kingdom really so bad?”

  “Good question, Max. A lot of pe
ople were amazed about this. How was it possible to get lost? The County Shimara is not the most outlying province, and Kettari is hardly what you might call the sticks. The caravan leaders claimed that most of the towns around Kettari were destroyed during the Troubled Times. Since life in these population centers depended solely on the needs of provincial Residences of the Orders around which they were built, there was no sense in reviving them.

  “They mentioned that the roads had been destroyed, as well. That already seemed a bit strange. I never heard of anyone destroying roads, even during the Troubled Times. Why should it have happened now? There was a curious incident involving one of the Magicians of the Order of the Secret Grass—a close relative of our own Melifaro, by the way. When he was leaving the Capital, he anticipated that he would be pursued, and he caused the road along which they were traveling to veer up skyward. It must have been a strange spectacle—you’re traveling along a road and suddenly you realize you’re moving up into the clouds! I even proposed to Magician Nuflin that he leave everything that way; but in those days he wasn’t very compliant. They brought the road back to earth almost immediately; and that happened not in County Shimara, but right here outside of Echo. So I was very skeptical about the stories of ruined roads.

  “Then I started thinking: if the local inhabitants are saying it, they must know what they’re talking about. And what difference does it make to me anyway? In short, the guides all believed it, and they believe it to this day. And why not? Our merchants return from Kettari loaded down with carpets. They also complain about the terrible condition of the roads. Kettarian carpets, by the way, become finer all the time, and the travelers are all unanimous in praising the beauties and riches of my native city. I don’t remember Kettari being a flourishing cultural center, although everything changes, and it’s a good thing when it’s for the better.”

  “And you, Juffin, how long has it been since you were there?”