The Stranger

  “He’ll tell you all about it. Don’t worry about him, Max.”

  “Thank you, Sir Mackie. I’m grateful to you for the coffee, and to Sir Maba for the cigarettes. I never dared hope—”

  “We had nothing to do with it,” Sir Mackie Ainti said. “It was all your own doing. You always get what you want—sooner or later, somehow or other. Strictly speaking, that’s a very dangerous quality. Never mind, though, you’ll manage.”

  “I get everything I want?” I was astonished.

  This announcement, in my view, didn’t conform to reality at all. Just what “everything” did he mean?

  “Yes, that’s what I said. But don’t forget—sooner or later, somehow or other. That changes things, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I sighed.

  Then we both fell silent. I thought over the new formula for my own happiness, and Mackie observed this process with kind curiosity.

  “As I understand it, I can come here anytime?” I asked, getting up to go.

  “You? You sure can. Good night, Lady Marilyn.”

  “Good night, Sir Mackie.”

  I went outside, armed myself with the first map I hit upon, and turned toward my lodgings. I had to gather my thoughts, but the main thing was to make sure my new home still existed.

  Everything went off without a hitch. The bridges led me back, just as Mackie had promised they would. And lucky for me, unlike Maba Kalox, he didn’t have the distressing habit of playing tricks on novices.

  Making myself comfortable in the rocker that I had grown to like, I lit up a cigarette. The meaning of what Sir Mackie had told me was sinking in very slowly. I would have preferred to be a complete blockhead. My head was spinning in circles, my ears were ringing unpleasantly, the world consisted of a million tiny points of throbbing light, and, it seemed, it was about to implode.

  Max, I told myself earnestly, get a grip on yourself, all right? Whatever those mighty Creators of the World may have done, it’s no reason for you to lose your mind.

  This helped, as it had helped me occasionally in the past. I decided to take a bath. Twenty gallons or so of cold water on an overheated head is an ancient, time-tested remedy for all misfortune.

  When I went back to the rocker, I lit up again and noticed with pleasure that the living room looked just as it was supposed to—without even the throbbing points of light. There was an ordinary human floor, ceiling, and four walls, all exactly where they were supposed to be.

  “Okey-dokey,” I said out loud. “Now it’s safe to go wherever you wish, honey, whether to the Country Home in search of wayward Lonli-Lokli, or beyond the gates of the city to observe absolute emptiness, or whatever I’m supposed to discover there. I suspect that the first option is more tempting, but Sir Mackie was very insistent in urging the second on me, so—” I shut up then, as there was a clear hint of madness in that soliloquy. I smiled an apologetic smile at Marilyn, staring at me from the large antique mirror, then stood up and left the house with a determined air.

  My legs took over and led me in an unknown direction, beyond the uncanny bridges and the narrow dark wrinkle of the Meaire River. To the city gates—where else would my crazy limbs be destined? It looked as though I had no choice but to go along with them.

  Forty minutes later I was already walking along the ancient wall of the city. It was so high it seemed the inhabitants of Kettari had tried to block out the sky, and only after many centuries of stubborn effort finally abandoned the hopeless endeavor. I was able to find the gates easily. Too easily for my taste, since my fear was far stronger than my curiosity, and only a strange feeling of helpless doom pushed me to undertake this expedition. I passed quickly beyond the gates as I had once dived headfirst off an enormous cliff.

  Instead of a yawning abyss, I was relieved to discover the massive silhouettes of the famous Vaxari trees, blacker than the sky. The greenish disk of the moon kindly agreed to light my path, and I gazed at it in gratitude. I had never thought a distant celestial body would do so much to help out a lowly human creature.

  I found myself walking down a wide road. There was no doubt that it was the same road that our caravan had driven along into Kettari just yesterday. I ambled along straight ahead, realizing with pleasure that my mood was steadily improving. My silly, childish fears scattered into the dark lairs of my unconscious like scampering mice. For the time being, at least.

  I don’t know how long this stroll lasted, but at a certain moment I noticed it was already getting light. I stopped abruptly and stared, flabbergasted, at the sky. It could hardly have been later than midnight when I left home, although . . .

  Are you sure your sense of time is in working order? I asked myself. After the instructive conversation with Sir Mackie Ainti and your pathetic attempt not to cave in under that small avalanche of information?

  I looked around, and my heart thudded behind my ribcage—but this time from joy rather than fear, though it was most likely a mixture of both. A few yards ahead I saw the end station of a cable car, and up ahead loomed a city in the mountains—the wondrous, seemingly uninhabited city in the mountains I always dreamed about. I was certain that these were the silhouettes of its massive buildings; its fragile, almost toy-like towers; and the white brick house on the edge of the city, atop its roof a weathervane like a parrot that spun even on a windless day.

  This fantastic city was already quite near, and I realized I could use the cable car to reach it. It was the only means of municipal transport, as I well remembered. I also remembered that I was never afraid of heights sitting in the flimsy little car. I simply wasn’t afraid of anything there at all.

  I crawled into the cable car as it slowly floated past, and ten minutes later I was standing on a narrow, crooked little street that I had been familiar with since childhood. Melamori, I thought, here’s a place where we could walk after all! How is it possible? A place so marvelous, and I’m all alone. I’m going to explode, it’s so wonderful. It’s too much for just me alone!

  I didn’t explode, of course.

  I knew this city better than the one where I was born. It seemed to me that now I had really come home. I had finally returned, not in my dreams, but for real, and wide awake.

  I don’t remember all the details of this mind-boggling stroll. I can only say that I conscientiously walked around the entire city, the name of which I don’t know to this day. It was no longer uninhabited. Occasionally passersby would come my way. Their faces seemed vaguely familiar, and many of them greeted me cordially with strange guttural sounds. None of it really surprised me. I just remember that by the time my legs were numb with weariness, I sat down at a table in an outdoor café, and someone served me a tiny cup of Turkish coffee. An inch above the surface floated a puffy cloud of cream. You could either eat it, or spare it and just admire it. I took out a cigarette and snapped my fingers mechanically. A neat greenish flame burned close to my face. The cigarette started to puff smoke, and I took a drag, as though I had always been certain of my ability to summon fire.

  Getting used to magic was a trifling matter—as long as it happened with the same regularity as ordinary events.

  I continued on my way, crossing the empty English park (this place was from another dream altogether!), and was soon gazing on the eleven Vaxari trees by the city gates. Then I was in Kettari again. The tiny red ball of the sun was just resting on the horizon. I realized I was as tired as though I had been walking for a few days. Sinning Magicians, how long had I been roaming around? But did it even matter? Now I needed to go home. And sleep, sleep, sleep—come hell or high water!

  Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli was waiting for me in the living room, sad and stern.

  “I’m glad to see you in one piece,” he said. “When I got home, your absence didn’t seem strange. After all, we came to this city on business. But by the next day—”

  “What? The next day! Gosh, how long was I gone?”

  “To answer that question, I’d have to know when you left. I’ve bee
n waiting for you for four days—but I was gone for a while myself.”

  “Oh, my!” I groaned. “No time to sleep now. First, I have to figure this all out. Where is my only joy in life? Where is my sweet little bottle of Elixir?”

  “In your traveling bag, I guess. I took the liberty of putting it in the closet, since you had managed to leave it right in the middle of the living room floor for all the World to see. For a while I thought maybe you had measured the room and made it the centerpiece for a special reason. Then I realized that wasn’t your style, and I cleared it out of the way.”

  “Sir Shurf, what a nice treat!” I took a hefty gulp of Elixir of Kaxar. My weariness abated for a time. “Good Old Shurf, who’s not calling me ‘Lady Marilyn’ or braying like an insane donkey, but only lives to look after my welfare. I think I must have died and gone to heaven!”

  “I don’t think it makes sense to call you ‘Lady Marilyn’ any more, just as it doesn’t make sense to stand on ceremony with someone who’s been with you through thick and thin, and has even gotten to know—”

  “A very sweet and kind version of Shurf Lonli-Lokli,” I said with a laugh. “It’s for the best. Decorum has its place, but it’s only right that it should yield eventually to openhearted familiarity. But why no more ‘Lady Marilyn this’ and ‘Lady Marilyn that’?”

  “Take a look in the mirror, Max. It’s lucky there aren’t many people in Kettari who know your face. I believe we’ll have to find our way out of here without the caravan, though. If, of course, we want to keep our mission a secret.”

  I stared into the mirror in astonishment at a face that looked haggard, bedraggled, and exhausted. Goodness! Not just any face, but my own!

  “Yikes!” I blurted out. “All my life I was sure I was anything but plain, but now . . . but how did Lady Marilyn’s pretty face get left behind? Actually, who could possibly know but me—and I haven’t the foggiest notion. So let’s talk about you, Sir Shurf. You probably haven’t spent the last few days in the best possible spirits? What I mean is that I should have sent you a call, but I felt sure I was only gone for—”

  “I don’t know where you were, Max, but I tried to contact you several times.”

  “And?”

  “To no avail, as you might have guessed. But I knew you were alive, because—well, I tracked you down. I’m not as good at it as Lady Melamori, but I do know how, if you’ll remember. The trail of a living person is always distinct from that of a dead one, so I wasn’t afraid for your life. But duty required me to follow your trail, though from the very beginning I felt I shouldn’t meddle in your affairs. Anyway, the trail led me to the city gates, and there I had to turn back home. I felt I couldn’t pursue you further than that. It was a very unpleasant sensation. I hope I don’t have to experience it again. But at least I realized you weren’t in any danger.”

  “I’m very sorry, Shurf,” I said. “You won’t believe where I was. My dream, the city in the mountains, the cable car—do you remember?”

  Lonli-Lokli nodded.

  “You don’t have to explain anything, Max. I have a feeling that that secret isn’t yours to tell. So it’s better to keep quiet, all right?”

  “Yes, all right.” I stared at him in consternation. Then a light went on in my head. “Did you just have that same unpleasant sensation again that you had by the city gates?”

  Lonli-Lokli nodded.

  “Holy moley! In that case, I’ll zip my lips. In fact, I think I’ll go take a little snooze. After the Elixir two or three hours of sleep will be enough. Then you can tell me—no, you’d better tell me now, or I’ll die of curiosity. What have you been doing all this time? Not you, I mean, but him—that cheerful chap. How did he entertain himself?”

  Lonli-Lokli frowned.

  “I’m afraid the news isn’t very good, Max. He—that is, me—we played cards. It was so pleasant and exciting! Oh, I was just going to ask you, did you have any money on you when we parted? Because I have nothing left.”

  “You blew all the money?” I laughed so hard I wanted to collapse to the chair, but missed and fell into a heap on the floor instead. “You lost all the money? How long did you play? A year? Two?”

  “Two days and two nights,” Lonli-Lokli admitted in embarrassment. “But a round of Krak usually doesn’t last more than a dozen minutes, so—”

  “I see. As for me, I have three crowns and a bit of change left. Never mind. We’ll survive. I have a lot of experience in frugal living. If worse comes to worst, we’ll just murder someone. It’s a piece of cake! Or become robbers. Do you know how to rob, Shurf? I’m sure you do.”

  “Yes. It’s not a very sophisticated kind of trick,” he said somberly. “But I don’t think it would be right. We are serving the Crown, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” I said quickly. My wonder-saturated body had been seeking an outlet for mild hysteria for some time already. “You’re delightful, Shurf! A fine fellow. And I’m a dolt. I was ready to rob a jewelry store. Well, we’ll live modestly, tighten our belts. Honest poverty has its advantages. I’ve read heaps of books that claim it does, anyway.”

  “You’re a very magnanimous person, Max,” Lonli-Lokli said. “I assumed that you’d be quite displeased with me.”

  “I’m not a bit magnanimous. It’s just that I have loads of more serious problems. And besides, it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have given you that joint.”

  “Your treat afforded me great pleasure,” Shurf exclaimed. “A person needs a rest from himself, at least from time to time. As I understand it, that substance is available to you whenever you wish to have it?”

  “Alas, no. Remember how surprised I was myself?”

  “I understand. But if you ever . . . If I remember correctly, you don’t like to resort to this form of release, so . . . well, don’t throw that thing away, but hide it for me. Maybe someday, in several dozen years . . .”

  “Well, in several dozen years, I figure I’ll be able to procure most anything at all!” I announced confidently. “You don’t want to have a good time before then?”

  “Oh, no, Sir Max! How could I? A person shouldn’t neglect the opportunity for relaxation, but it’s inadmissible to indulge in it too often.”

  “I’ll take that into account. How wise you are, Sir Shurf. You don’t mind if I just lie down here on this divan, do you? I’ve already grown used to it—I’ve never been upstairs to the bedroom. I don’t have the strength to get used to yet another new bed. Wake me up in two or three hours. I’ve got so much to do . . . don’t I?”

  With these words, I closed my eyes and bid farewell to all the Worlds. I had no dreams, only one infinitely long moment of complete repose.

  When I awoke, it was nearly dark in the living room. The windows let in a meager, dusky gray twilight. A fat greenish moon had already begun its triumphal ascent above the horizon. I looked around, dazed, to see Lonli-Lokli sitting stock-still in the rocker. He seemed to be practicing his breathing gymnastics.

  “W-hat happened, Sir Shurf?” I mumbled in dismay. “I asked you to wake me up! Are you getting absentminded?”

  “I did try wake you up,” Lonli-Lokli’s said. “In three hours, as you requested. I never could have imagined how lustily you can curse. I must admit, I didn’t understand more than half the words—but I jotted them down. And I would be much obliged to you if you would explain what they mean.”

  “You jotted them down! Sinning Magicians, what did I say? I’m even curious myself. Come on, show me the list.”

  “It’s quite dark in the room. We should probably light a lamp. You can’t see in the dark, as far as I know.”

  “I don’t need a lamp. I’ll figure it out somehow. I’m not yet awake enough to be able to stand bright light.”

  I took the neat, small piece of paper covered with Lonli-Lokli’s large, evenly spaced handwriting, and read the words. Well, I’ll be! Some of them were words I hadn’t even resorted to in my moments of greatest despair. I
felt very ashamed.

  “Ouch! Shurf, I’m terribly sorry! I hope you understand that I don’t think that way.”

  “No need to trouble yourself with apologies, Max. I know very well that a person can say anything at all in his sleep. But I’m truly interested in what these words mean.”

  “All right,” I sighed. “First I’ll bathe, and then we’ll go out somewhere to eat. Honestly, I’ll have to drink some courage if you want to hear a real translation and not some pathetic attempt to beat about the bush!”

  “That’s a reasonable suggestion,” Shurf nodded. “I must admit, I’m hungry.”

  “Oh, and our last pennies are in my pocket! What a scoundrel I am! Well, never mind. We’ll get back on our feet again.”

  A half-hour later we were sitting in the Old Table, where I had breakfasted so enjoyably not long ago. As it turned out, the place became even cozier and livelier toward evening. In any case, according to our landlady, “some people spend every waking hour of the rest of their born days in the Country Home; and there’s nothing better closer to home.” As for the Down Home Diner, I would drop in there later, and alone. I had to play that game without Shurf—for the time being, anyway.

  I began my “morning” with a jug of kamra and a glass of some sort of burning hot infusion. Drinking directly upon waking isn’t my style, but we had to celebrate the return of my own dearly beloved countenance. I had also promised to deliver a lecture on uncensored profanity for Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, seeker of fresh knowledge. Without a hefty dose of a strong beverage, this just wasn’t going to happen.

  After I had started to relax, I examined Shurf’s handwritten list. He eagerly scooted closer to me.

  “Well, this is nothing very exciting. Just a female dog. And this . . . how should I say it, Shurf—a man who is undeserving of respect and who has some serious problems with the plumbing in his backside. It’s a word that describes stupid people, although the root is directly connected to the process of reproduction.”