The Stranger

  “That pearl of wisdom could have dropped from the lips of the ancients,” Lonli-Lokli said placidly.

  I looked at him out of the corner of my eye—could he have learned how to joke? No, I was hallucinating. My nerves had always been unreliable.

  “Well, let’s go look for your friend,” I suggested when Shurf’s plate was finally emptied. “By the way, how will we do it? Can you pick up his trail?”

  “Sometimes you say the oddest things, Max,” Lonli-Lokli said. “How, I wonder, can you pick up the trail of a dead man?”

  “Me? I never intended to pick up his trail at all. It’s not my department. Do I look like Melamori?”

  “You’re wrong there. You can do it; you just have to try. But it’s not the proper topic of discussion now.”

  “What do you mean ‘not the proper topic of discussion’?” I said indignantly. “It wouldn’t ever have occurred to me that I could do anything like that. Will you teach me how to pick up a scent, Shurf?”

  “Sir Juffin gave no orders. He’s not sure of the consequences, and I’m not the one to decide something like this. You can ask him yourself when we get back.”

  I sighed again. It seemed that in this crazy world everyone was fully briefed about my hidden talents but me.

  “Fine, Shurf. What a bunch of conspirators you all are. How are we going to sniff out this dead granddad of a Magician? Do we look for the smell of carrion, or—”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Lonli-Lokli said coldly. “We’re going home.”

  “Home?”

  “Of course. I need my gloves.”

  “Oh, right. See what an idiot I am? Then what?”

  “Then it’s very simple. Simpler than simple,” Lonli-Lokli said. “But you probably don’t understand. Now I need the left glove, but not so I can do battle with him. It would never harm its owner; rather the contrary. But it will make finding him very easy.”

  “Wait,” I said, growing alarmed. “How do you intend to fight him without—”

  “We’ll see,” Lonli-Lokli said with a shrug. “I hope you don’t believe that I can’t do anything without gloves?”

  “Of course I don’t think that, but . . . Well, it would be better if they were on our side, your ‘mitts with a mind of their own,’ that’s for sure.”

  “Of course it would be better,” said Shurf. “Let’s go, Max. I’ll need some time to get ready, and I’d very much like to meet up with Kiba before the moon rises.”

  “Does the moon empower creatures like him?” I asked fearfully, lifting my behind from the seat of the chair in alarm.

  “No. It’s just that when Kiba Attsax and his assistant came after me in my sleep, the moon was out. I didn’t like the spectacle one bit.”

  “I see,” I nodded. “I do see, and that’s a fact.”

  “I’m sure you do. Who could understand things like that, if not you?”

  When we got home, Lonli-Lokli headed straight for the bedroom. When he was on the stairs, he turned around unexpectedly.

  “Don’t come upstairs while I’m there, Max. There are things that can’t be done in the company of others—you know that yourself.”

  “I understand. I also have to get ready for your colossal battle, by the way. I’m going to be very nervous tonight, you know, and that means I’ll be smoking a lot of cigarettes. And I’m completely out. So I’m going to do some sorcery. Maybe something you like will come my way, too.” I made the last remark to an already closed door.

  “Oh, boy,” I said aloud, seating myself more comfortably next to my favorite pillow, which, through Maba Kalox’s kind attentions, had long since ceased to be only a pillow, and had become a plug in the Chink between Worlds. I had already thrust my hand underneath it, ready to wait patiently for my catch. My hand grew numb almost immediately, and I withdrew it in confusion. I had acquired a whole box of chocolates. Sweet, I punned. What was happening to me? I thrust my hand under the pillow again and was surprised at how swiftly it sank into the unknown. A half hour later I was the proud owner of several bags of cookies, a collection of keys, four silver spoons, and a box of expensive Cuban cigars, which I had never learned to smoke since I had never been able to afford them. I stared at the treasures in bewilderment. What the devil was going on? Until now I had only succeeded in getting hold of cigarettes—and I was perfectly content with things that way. Somewhat at a loss, I sent a call to Maba Kalox.

  Sir Kalox, can you enlighten me about what’s happening? You taught me to catch cigarettes, not all this junk!

  I have nothing to do with it, Max! You learn magic completely on your own. You’re just diversifying. What’s the problem?

  That’s great, I said plaintively. But I still can’t get used to the local tobacco.

  It’s a matter of taste. Personally, I like it. Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. Don’t get too attached to the pillow. Try it with other objects. The main thing is not to see what your hand is doing—that will only throw things off. You happen to have some free time, I know. So just practice. And don’t waste time with trifles anymore. And Sir Kalox disappeared from my mind.

  After a time, it occurred to me that I had easily gotten through to Sir Maba, who was in Echo, I presumed. Maybe that meant I could finally contact Juffin?

  After the first try, I realized it was futile. Dead silence, as before. I tried once more, just so no one could say I hadn’t. Nothing.

  Could this mean that Sir Maba was also lurking around Kettari? It’s becoming a very fashionable watering hole, I told my reflection aloud. Then I got down to work again, which I won’t deny was quite entertaining . . . It turned out that I could get a pizza right from under my favorite divan. After the third pizza, I realized this was the limit of the divan’s capabilities. I stuck my hand under the rocker. A bottle of grappa, then a can of Belgian beer. All right, got that figured out. That’s where they keep the drinks. But it was high time for a cigarette. I had only one left. Well, live and learn! I stuffed my hand in the pocket of my looxi almost mechanically—and to my astonishment, it grew numb almost immediately. I quickly drew my hand from my pocket. I couldn’t believe my eyes! There was a golden-yellow pack. A full pack of my favorite cigarettes, a hole in the heavens above your head! Unopened! But of course, where should you find cigarettes but in your own pocket? I stuck my hand in the same pocket again, and out came the crumpled, empty pack I had counted on finding from the very first. My head felt giddy from my own power, so I had to smoke and calm down a little. And try to get a grip on myself. These miracles were all well and good, but I still had to take charge of the situation somehow.

  “What’s that, Max?” Lonli-Lokli asked in surprise. I hadn’t heard him come downstairs. The protective gloves, covered with runes, adorned his already enormous hands.

  “Food from another World,” I said with a weary sigh. “It seems today I’m on a roll, though I’m quite baffled myself. You’re not hungry, yet? It might do you good. Maybe it’s wonder-food?”

  “Maybe,” Lonli-Lokli drawled, sniffing cautiously at the pizza. “It does seem edible.” He tore off a piece, chewed it a while, then shrugged. “You know, I don’t really like it.”

  “I don’t like it much, either,” I said, feeling a bit guilty. “Let’s try the chocolates. Do you want a drink, by any chance? A shot of courage, and all that? Do you have your holey vessel with you?”

  To my surprise, Lonli-Lokli nodded enthusiastically and drew from his looxi the bottomless cup.

  “In any case, I intended to resort to this, since I need to try every possible means,” he explained. “And a drink from another World could only increase my chances of victory.”

  “So all my efforts weren’t in vain!”

  It took only a minute to open the bottle, and I poured the grappa into the holey cup.

  “May I try, perhaps? I mean, drinking from your crazy vessel?”

  Lonli-Lokli stared at me, then emptied his cup in one gulp, and shrugged.

  “Well, try it if you
wish.”

  And he handed me the cup. I poured a little grappa into this truly bottomless object and drank it down with gusto. I don’t much like the taste of grappa, but since I was privileged to be using Lonli-Lokli’s cup I was prepared to brave even this.

  “Thank you. What am I supposed to feel now?”

  “You? I have no idea!” My friend seemed quite bewildered. “I almost thought that your strange, powerful wine would pour straight through it. You haven’t undergone the initiation into the Order. I had some doubts about you—completely silly, unfounded ones—so I let you try it. Tell me, Max, are you aware of your own powers?”

  “I didn’t even know there might be a problem,” I replied. “I thought that it all depended on your magic cup.”

  “The cup is the most ordinary kind. Just an old cup full of holes,” Lonli-Lokli said. “What matters is who drinks from it. You know Max, you’re a very strange creature.”

  “I’ve always thought so, too. Especially recently,” I said. “Well, let’s go find your friend. I must say, I’ve never felt so superb, even after a good dose of Elixir of Kaxar.” I stood up and went to the door. At the threshold I turned around, as Lonli-Lokli hadn’t budged from his seat. “Do you need to do something else? Did I jump the gun?”

  “Max,” Sir Shurf asked slowly, “Tell me. Do you always walk without touching the ground, or . . .”

  “Only in Kettari. Why do you ask?” I looked under my feet suspiciously. Between the soles of my boots and the floor there really was a small space—almost too small to be seen. “Holy moley! I don’t have the strength to be surprised anymore. I don’t think it will affect the matter at hand, so let’s go before that silly fool of a moon starts scrambling up the sky. You know, I seem to have a strong urge to drink some blood. Is that a normal reaction after using your cup?”

  “Absolutely,” Lonli-Lokli said, nodding his head. “But try to keep yourself in check, and try not to confuse your real strength with an illusory sense of power.”

  “I’ll try. I must say, I’ve really never received so much opportune advice before.”

  “It’s just that I know what your present condition feels like. Which means I also know that you can control your behavior if you want to.” This weighty compliment committed me to a great deal, whatever miracles might befall.

  When we were outside, Lonli-Lokli cautiously took off his left glove, stopped for a few seconds, and then set off toward the bridge with a determined stride.

  “Is he nearby?” I asked. My heels, which suddenly tore away from the earth, were buzzing like crazy.

  “Not yet. We’ll have to walk for about half an hour. That will give us time to discuss a few details of what awaits us. I was going to ask you not to interfere in the fight, and suggest that you generally keep your distance from Kiba Attsax, but—”

  “You changed your mind?” I asked. Shurf nodded earnestly.

  “Yes, you taught me a good lesson. Underestimating your enemy is an unforgivable blunder. But underestimating your ally is even more dangerous. So go ahead and interfere, if need be.”

  “That’s all well and good,” I said, somewhat confused. “But how do you kill dead Magicians? Until now, I knew of only one method—your famous left hand. An excellent thing. But as I understand it, it won’t shine for us?”

  “No. If it were a matter of any other creature, perhaps. But my glove was at one time Kiba’s hand, so it won’t offer us any help. I can still do some other tricks, maybe they will be sufficient. Each person has his own best way of killing a Grand Magician, living or dead. You have a chance now to find out what your own best way is,” said Lonli-Lokli, and fell silent. I decided not to burden him with conversation.

  Meanwhile, we continued along the streets of Kettari. I enjoyed this walk as I had enjoyed no other. Every step sent a pleasant tickling sensation through my entire body, starting as a pleasant itch in the soles of my feet.

  “Why am I levitating, Shurf? Has anything like this ever happened to you?”

  “Yes. After I drank dry all the aquariums of the Order I didn’t touch the earth for several years. It happens from a surcharge of strength and the inability to use it properly. That befell you after a surprisingly small dose, so your case might differ from mine. I must note that Kiba Attsax is now very close by. A bit closer, and I’ll have to take off my glove. It’s burning my hand.”

  “Wow!” I said, and immediately shut up. What a thing to say at such a moment!

  “Well, Max, I’m taking off the glove,” Shurf said quietly. “I have to give it to you now. Together with the protective one, of course. You have no part in the old dispute, so you can hold it without any problem.”

  “Maybe I should just shrink it and hide it away? That’s my favorite trick. Would it be safe?”

  “Yes, go ahead. Take it and follow me.” Shurf nodded at me, already somewhat aloof.

  The dangerous glove obediently settled down between my thumb and the forefinger of my left hand. One thing I had certainly mastered was transporting bulky physical objects in this supremely practical way.

  “Whatever you do, try to stay alive,” Lonli-Lokli said all of a sudden. “Death is a horrifying prospect if you’re dealing with Kiba. I know that for a fact.”

  “I have a long lifeline,” I said, glancing stealthily at my right hand. “Do you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, save it for later, Max. He’s there in that house. Let’s go!”

  The house Lonli-Lokli pointed to was a small, two-story structure with a signboard that read Old Refuge on the façade.

  “A rooming house?” I asked in surprise. “A dormitory for dead Magicians, room and board for a modest fee?”

  “I think it is some sort of hotel. Do you really consider that to be important?”

  “No, it’s just funny. A dead man living in a hotel. Where does he get the money, I’d like to know? Or did he have an account in a local bank when he was still alive?”

  “Well, he had to be somewhere,” Lonli-Lokli murmured glumly.

  I threw open the heavy lacquered door for him with a determined gesture.

  “After you.”

  The ancient steps creaked under the weight of his tread.

  “Here we are,” Lonli-Lokli observed calmly, stopping in front of a completely nondescript white door with the vestiges of a number 6 in faded gold—something only I would notice, with my habit of paying attention to random nonsense.

  “Open it, Max. Don’t hold back.”

  “Oh, I forgot—your hands are tied up, in a manner of speaking.”

  I grinned, and opened the door. Somewhere in one of the numerous magazines I devoured long ago in a previous life, I read that they asked Napoleon what the secret of his victories was. “The main thing is to throw yourself into the fray. After that you can sort out the details,” he quipped. Or something to that effect. Quite a fellow, that Napoleon—though he met with a rather unfortunate end.

  By the window, with his back turned to us, sat a completely bald, withered old man in a bright looxi. Suddenly, a ball of lightning, white as snow, flew out from under Lonli-Lokli’s looxi. It struck the bald man right between the shoulder blades, and he flared up with an unpleasant pale light, like an enormous streetlamp. The ball of lightning didn’t seem to hurt the stranger in the least, but he turned around.

  “Greetings, Fishmonger,” said Sir Kiba Attsax, the former Grand Magician of the Order of the Icy Hand.

  The most horrifying thing was that Kiba Attsax looked very much like Lonli-Lokli himself. I remembered that Juffin had said our Shurf had an unremarkable appearance—that people who look like him are a dime a dozen. Blockhead that I was, I hadn’t believed him!

  The many years he had spent in a non-living state had not made him more attractive. The bluish, pock-marked, unnaturally gleaming skin was what really compromised his charm.

  The whites of his eyes were dark, almost brown, and the eyes themselves were light blue—a lovely combinatio
n, it can’t be denied. I even felt a bit calmer when I got a good look at him. How could such a pathetic, dilapidated old creature possibly harm the fearsome Lonli-Lokli?

  Oh, how wrong I was!

  The dead Magician, it seemed, welcomed the opportunity for a chat. Completely ignoring another ball of lightning, which struck him in the chest this time, he went on with the performance.

  “You succeeded very well in hiding from me, Fishmonger. You hid yourself very well indeed! But you weren’t smart enough to stay away from a place like this. Did it never occur to you that a newborn World is like a dream? Here your powers don’t work. You don’t believe me?”

  I turned to Lonli-Lokli. I still thought that this dead man would put the fear of the Magicians in us, and then we would make short shrift of him, as the genre required. But the expression on Sir Shurf’s face—Sinning Magicians, what’s happening to him? I wondered, starting to panic. He was really afraid, and—it looked like he was falling asleep!

  The jangling voice of Kiba Attsax jolted me back to reality. “I have no quarrel with you, boy. You may leave. Don’t interfere. We have old accounts to settle,” he said. The dead Magician waved the stump of his left arm in front of my nose. “He stole my left hand. How do you like that?”

  A cold lump of panic shot into my throat. The situation completely knocked me off course. Until that moment I had been sure that I could calmly observe this World full of dangers safely behind the shoulders of the invulnerable Lonli-Lokli. But “even old ladies make mistakes,” as they say where I come from. And today we had mistakes galore—enough to share among widows, orphans, and other have-nots, if they wanted them, I thought with crazed glee.

  And then I stopped thinking and went into action. It seemed I had been pinned against the wall. For a start, I spat at the dirty mug of the dead Magician. It wasn’t that I seriously believed this would help matters, but I couldn’t come up with anything more original. To my surprise, the spitting improved the general situation. Of course, it didn’t kill my opponent—he was already dead on his feet, so to speak. But I was lucky. It turned out that my spit left proper holes in corpses—just like the ones that adorned my rug at home. The dead Magician seemed very surprised. For the time being, anyway, he was distracted from his cryptic plans for giving Lonli-Lokli his comeuppance.