The Stranger

  It looks like there’s a doggone mystery on my trail, I thought. And it doesn’t look pretty.

  Now I was only interested in bookstores and souvenir stands that sold maps. I amassed maps of Kettari, haggling like a gypsy and wheedling the storekeepers down to less than five times the asking price. Where there’s a will there’s a way. The only thing I didn’t manage was to force the merchants to pay me for taking their wares off their hands.

  By sundown, I was tired and hungry, and a quick glace around proved I was standing under a sign that read Down Home Diner. The tavern was on the corner of High Street and Fisheye Street, so there were two entrances. The door around the corner from where I stood seemed to be the main entrance. Above that door was picture of an old lady of epic proportions armed with a ladle. The immediate entrance was far more appealing, an ordinary wooden door draped with some local variety of wild grapevine. I pulled it toward me with a decisive tug, but the door wouldn’t budge. It looks like I’ll have to pass under that cannibal of a cook! I said to myself unhappily. But first, I tried the overgrown door once more, and on my third try I realized that I had to push, rather than pull. This is one of my more embarrassing personal traits—I always have to struggle with new (and sometimes even long-familiar) doors. They say the malady is incurable.

  After I had made my peace with the door, I went inside the nearly empty dining hall, chose the farthest table, and plopped down in a comfortable, soft chair.

  No sooner had I sat down than a cheerful, plump lady appeared and handed me a weighty menu. I was duly impressed. It’s not every restaurant, even in the Capital, that offers such abundant fare.

  “A cup of kamra, please,” I said. “I think I’ll have to study this beautiful book for some time.”

  “One kamra, coming up!” The tavern-keeper smiled graciously. “Kamra, and something a bit stronger, as well, miss?”

  “If I drink something stronger I’ll fall asleep in the chair before my meal arrives. I’d like something more vitalizing,” I said. The Elixir of Kaxar was resting safely in my travel bag in the house at 24 Old Riverbank St., which I had located on only six of the eleven maps of Kettari. Needless to say, this did not infuse me with optimism.

  “I’d highly recommend Elixir of Kaxar,” suggested the tavern-keeper, brightening. “Ever since the rules for cooks were relaxed in the Capital, we have been able to stock this marvelous drink. Are you familiar with it?”

  “And how!”

  I noted to myself that I had probably discovered the “best darn diner in this crazy town,” as Sir Juffin Hully would have said. What luck!

  The mistress of the tavern left, and I buried my nose in the menu. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the names of the dishes contained not a whit of useful information, and were a bunch of abstract lyrical malarky. I waited until the mistress returned with a diminutive glass of Elixir of Kaxar, and explained to her that I needed a hefty portion of something tasty, but not too refined. Yesterday’s experience with the lard had made me wary. After a long exchange, the mistress concluded that what I was after was one order of Wind Kisses. I did not object. The mistress said that the dish would take at least a half hour to prepare. I nodded my approval. It’s always easy to come to an agreement with me. Then she disappeared into the semidarkness of the kitchen.

  I sipped the Elixir of Kaxar. My spirits perked up, and I started to look around. I’d been wanting a cigarette for a long time. I just needed to find out whether it was permitted.

  The hall was almost empty. Apart from me there was only one other customer who sat by the window with a view onto a curious fountain with colored streams that didn’t simply fall downward, but twisted in intricate spirals. I tried but was unable to make out the face of the stranger. I could only see his back, hunched over a board game. By a leap of the imagination it could have been considered a local variant of chess. The figures were more or less similar, but the board was divided into triangles and painted three different colors.

  This fellow seemed to be so engrossed in his intellectual conundrums that not only would it have been possible to smoke a cigarette from another world in his presence, but one could have organized an entire striptease without him noticing. So I lit up without further ado. Lonli-Lokli was totally living it up in this grand city of Kettari—did I deserve any worse?

  Wind Kisses turned out to be tiny patties made of tender fowl. After I finished, I drank the rest of my divine Elixir and placed my souvenirs on the table. Again I studied all eleven versions of the map of Kettari. Now I had another surprise: High Street, Fisheye Street, and the Down Home Diner were there on all eleven maps. This coincidence astonished me even more than the numerous inconsistencies I had found earlier. Not trusting overmuch my own powers of perception, I again pored over the tiny letters on the map. Maybe everything on the map had been just as it should be from the start—only my senses had been confused by the jumble of new impressions. But no, the discrepancies I had found were still there.

  I sighed. I would just have to wait patiently for the errant Lonli-Lokli to return so I could dump this problem on his strong shoulders—assuming, of course, I’d be able to find the road home. What if, indeed, Old Riverbank Street wasn’t where it was supposed to be?

  “Don’t fret so, Sir Max. That’s all neither here nor there. By the way, you’ve hardly collected all the variants.”

  I stared silently at this suddenly chatty gentleman. Did he say “Sir Max” to me? No, I must have misheard. I couldn’t possibly have heard correctly! My Lady Marilyn was a perfectly executed illusion, a masterpiece of Sir Kofa Yox’s artistry, the pride of both of us.

  The chess player smiled slyly under his reddish mustache, stood up, and came toward me. He had a marvelously light gait, and a very unremarkable face that I already couldn’t commit to memory—but that gait I’d no doubt still remember in another thousand years!

  “The name’s Mackie Ainti,” he said softly, sitting down in a chair near mine. “Sir Mackie Ainti, the old sheriff of Kettari.”

  I nodded in silence. My heart was thumping against my ribcage, trying to escape so it could fetch the suitcases and get out of town as soon as possible. The arm of the chair creaked loudly under the convulsive grip of my fingers.

  “There’s no cause for alarm,” Sir Mackie Ainti said, and smiled a slow smile. “You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve waited for this moment, even if I told you myself!”

  “A long time?” I asked faintly.

  “Yes. Quite a while. I’m awfully glad to see you! You can’t imagine just how glad I am!”

  “Glad?”

  I was completely at a loss. Couldn’t wait to see me? How was that possible? He didn’t even know me. As far as I knew, Sir Juffin Hully was not exactly corresponding with his first teacher.

  “Fine. If you’ve got it into your head that you just have to be surprised—well, I’ll just head back to my board over there. When you’re over your shock, send me a call.”

  “What? No, it’s not worth going back and forth. I’ll be quick about it,” I said. “Naturally, the person who taught Sir Juffin Hully what’s what in his time would know everything in the World.”

  “You got that right. You know, Maba and I had a falling out—”

  “Sir Maba Kalox is here?”

  “How should I put it . . . At the moment, as we speak, no. And you never can say anything for sure about Maba. Whatever the case may be, he does sometimes pay me a visit. That’s how we got to arguing about you, and neither of us guessed. I wasn’t at all sure you’d drop in here, and I was getting ready to pay you a visit. But Maba talked me out of it. He reckoned that within a dozen days or so you’d come round to Down Home Diner. But we sure didn’t expect to see you this soon. Have you any notion how lucky you are, partner?”

  “Sir Juffin tells me all the time. I’ve got a whole slew of arguments to the contrary, but they don’t count, I guess?”

  “You got that right. You lucky dogs are all like that. It was
even a miracle that you were born, did you know that?”

  I shook my head in bewilderment. Up to this point I had thought that the story of my conception contained no dramatic plot twists.

  “The details are immaterial to you, but you can keep it in mind, anyway. Well, no matter. Looks like you want to smoke?”

  I nodded. The problem was that my cigarette box was empty and my magic pillow was at my lodgings.

  “Maba left you a present. He asked me to tell you that you’re a very quick learner, so it’s probably not so much a present as a well-earned reward.”

  Mackie handed me a whole pack of my favorite cigarettes, with three gold stars on a yellow background.

  “Whoa! Looks like I won the jackpot!” I exclaimed. “You were absolutely right, Mackie. I’m the luckiest person in the universe!”

  “Almost,” he nodded distractedly. “What else can I offer you? I think a good dose of nostalgia would do the trick. Hellika!”

  The smiling tavern-keeper hurried over, put a tray with a cup on the table silently, and disappeared as quietly and abruptly as a shadow.

  “She is a shadow,” Sir Mackie said, seconding my thought. “But a very sweet one. Well, are you happy?”

  I looked at the cup. That smell . . . Kamra is, of course, an excellent thing. But nothing beats the smell of . . . good coffee!

  “I’m going to cry!” I said. “Sir Mackie, I’m in your debt forever.”

  “Don’t bandy words like that around. It’s very dangerous, especially in your case. Your words sometimes possess a special power, and some of your wishes do, too. They come true, you know. I think this World is going to see some interesting times ahead, if you don’t become old and wise in the very near future. But neither one nor the other is likely to happen any time soon, I reckon.”

  “Sir Mackie, do you always speak in riddles?”

  “Only some of the time. The rest of the time I’m silent as the grave. So just be patient.”

  “No problem,” I nodded, and greedily slurped down another gulp of coffee. “Now I’m going to have a smoke—and you can do whatever you like with me. I’ll agree to anything.”

  “Is that right? By the way, your sense of duty isn’t very strong. If Juffin were in your shoes he would already have fired a dozen questions at me, made a few million deductions, and formed a hypothesis. Don’t you plan to interrogate me about the mysterious fate of Kettari?”

  “I know that you’ll only tell me what you consider necessary for me to know. And you’ll tell me that without any prompting on my part.”

  “Bravo!” Sir Mackie said. “I can’t help but envy Juffin. It’s very easy to deal with you.”

  “I feel the same way,” I agreed. “But I wasn’t like this before. Juffin’s jokes and lots of good food will turn anyone into an angel.”

  “Juffin’s jokes? That’s funny. He used to be the gloomiest fellow in Kettari. I had to work two hundred years to get him to crack a smile. The smile came out crooked, but at least he tried.”

  I stared at my conversation partner in disbelief.

  “Aw, come on! As though I had nothing better to do than sit here and lie to you! So you thought he was born old, wise, cheerful, and with a silver spoon in his mouth to boot? My, oh my, Max. You and I are the lucky ones. There’s nobody left to gossip about my youth, and you’re growing up so fast there won’t be time for your mistakes to stick in anyone’s memory. Well then, drink down your strange brew before it gets cold. If you want more, you’ll have it. Today’s your lucky day. I have to make up for my sins. It’s my fault you nearly went off your head about the Kettari maps. I was surprised you even noticed!”

  “Well, it was just by chance. I have that habit of first looking for where I live on any map.”

  “All the same, good for you. But why did you get so agitated about it? Another habit?”

  “Indeed. By the way, you promised me a refill.”

  “Are you always in such a hurry, Max?”

  “No. I usually sit on the toilet for a long time.”

  “Bread has to sit before it rises, too. At least you do something thoughtfully.” Mackie hid his smile under his ruddy whiskers.

  Suddenly the mistress appeared again out of nowhere, carrying another tray. Then again, a shadow is a shadow.

  “Okay,” I said, starting in on a second cup of coffee with gusto. “I guess I’ll have to play along and ask this question: What’s happening in Kettari?”

  “You already had the right idea,” said Mackie, taking a swig of coffee from my cup before setting it down in disgust. “Are you sure you can drink that stuff? It won’t make you sick?”

  I shook my head, then asked:

  “You’re talking about the line I gave Lonli-Lokli, about the ‘other world,’ and how there are many Other Worlds, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. I don’t object to that explanation. You see, Kettari really doesn’t exist anymore. Or, rather, it exists—you can see that for yourself—but it’s not where it should be, and it doesn’t exist in the ordinary sense of the word.”

  “And the local inhabitants?” I asked with a sinking heart. “They seemed quite ordinary to me.”

  “They are. True, they had to die when their time came, but not for long, and . . . just ‘for pretend.’ You found an excellent little word for it; I’ll have to remember it! They think that they live in the Unified Kingdom, just like they did before, and they have no evidence to the contrary. They can always go wherever they like. They can invite their relatives to visit them; only they know it’s best to go out to meet them so they won’t get lost. It is a small inconvenience that ‘the roads around Kettari are in terrible condition since the time of the Great Battle for the Code,’ and so forth. So when you leave, you must have a good protective amulet: a guide, a key to the Door between Worlds. I think you like metaphors like that, or am I wrong?”

  “Sure I like them!” I said. “So I was right? Kettari is another World altogether, like my homeland?”

  “Well, not exactly like your homeland. You were born in a real place—a rather strange one, but real nonetheless. Kettari, in contrast, is the beginning of a new World that will someday become real. The beginning is a wonderful time, a time of marvels, whether we’re talking about a whole World or about a single human life. Oh, by the way, you should try going for a walk outside the city gates. I highly recommend it. For you the walk is completely safe. And when else will you have the opportunity to see absolute emptiness?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “You bet I am! You must go for an outing. Only do it alone, all right?”

  “But I’m alone now! I was abandoned.”

  “It’s your own fault. You’re lucky your friend is such a beefy fellow. Narcotic substances from one World sometimes have the most unexpected effects on inhabitants of other Worlds. You’ve experienced that yourself, by the way. Remember what happened to you after just one bowl of that harmless Soup of Repose? And there’s no need to fret. Your friend will be fit as a fiddle in no time.”

  “I’m not a bit worried. But how can you know so much about me, Sir Mackie? I understand that for you it’s a trifling matter . . . but why, exactly?”

  “What do you mean, ‘why’? Vile little word. After all, you happened to appear in Juffin’s life, so for me you’re a sort of nephew. Excuse me for resorting to such primitive terminology. But they really are like family ties.”

  I smiled. This made sense to me.

  “Well, now. I think that’s enough for today,” Mackie announced abruptly. “First, walk outside the city, then come back here and we’ll continue our family reunion in the evening. Otherwise I may end up telling you more than will fit into your hapless head.”

  “True, that!”

  I didn’t know whether to be glad or to regret the sudden end of the conversation. Maybe I really was in need of some time-out.

  “Just tell me one thing, please. How should I get home? I mean, which of these maps is right?”


  “They all are,” Mackie said with a shrug. “The fact is that I couldn’t remember exactly how Kettari really was arranged, so there are several floating around out there. The bridges connect the fragments of my reminiscences. You see, I had to create Kettari again from scratch, because the real Kettari was completely destroyed. It’s a sad story—and no witnesses remain alive.”

  “Some Mutinous Magician or other?” I asked knowingly.

  “Who else? And not ‘someone or other,’ but the cream of the crop: Loiso Pondoxo, the Grand Magician of the Order—”

  “—of the Watery Crow!” I added triumphantly, unable to conceal a smile.

  “I’d like to see you smile if you met up with this fellow. Although, maybe you would be the one who could really keep smiling,” Mackie said. “Loiso Pondoxo was so formidable, I still can’t imagine how Juffin managed to win that Battle. Perhaps I’m just used to considering him to be young and foolish. Most likely—it’s always like that with pupils. I guess it’s the same way with children. Well, then, to answer your question, it’s all very simple. The Down Home Diner is on all the maps, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You bet it is. It was my favorite tavern down through all the peaceful centuries. From here you may reach any destination you have in mind. Just use any of the maps that show the house where you’re staying. The bridges themselves will take you where you need to go. Just remember—if you ever get lost, try to find your way back to the Down Home Diner. It’s your point of reference, your touchstone.”

  “Great!” I said. “But my heart tells me I’ll have to try to find Lonli-Lokli. What if he ended up in the Kettari where there’s no Old Riverbank Street?”

  “Don’t worry. Your friend didn’t cross a single bridge. I’ll let you in on a little secret—he never even left the Country Home.”

  “You’re kidding! And he calls that ‘entertainment’? What’s he been doing all this time, eating?”