I was shocked at my own words. I’m usually not so eloquent. Juffin wasted no time in approaching the dead man to make sure he had ended his unnatural posthumous existence.
“Good. Let’s get out of here, Max,” he said with a yawn.
We went up to the office without talking. The boss stared at the empty desk in annoyance.
“I sent a call to the Glutton fifteen minutes ago,” he grumbled. “Where’s the food?”
Just then the door creaked. A young assistant to Madam Zizinda hoisted a huge tray onto the desk. Juffin’s gaze grew warmer. He looked at me with sympathy.
“Are you upset, Max?”
“Fair to middling. It’s just unfortunate that Melamori is connected with this is any way. It’s as if some bloody joker had befouled the hem of her looxi, and she hasn’t noticed it yet.”
“Don’t exaggerate. Lady Melamori, Magicians be praised, is slumbering peacefully right now in a stateroom of The Surf Thorn, floating somewhere between the water and the sky, halfway to that sinning Arvarox. So the hem of her looxi is fine. Some people get along with their parents, some don’t. That’s just how it is. The one I really feel sorry for is Sir Korva Blimm. In his time he fought tooth and nail to keep his wife out of the Refuge for the Mad. Even for someone as well connected as he is, it was almost impossible, since her madness was not only incurable, but she was also a danger to those around her. It can be contagious, as the fate of her bodyguard proves. He flipped his lid, too. But Korva is as stubborn as our Melamori. That’s why Lady Atissa was able to stay at home. Now we’re going to have to intervene. Better late than never.”
“Looks like you didn’t forget my lecture on ‘flipping one’s lid,’” I said, smiling.
“How could I forget? I consider the expression to be your personal contribution to the wiseman’s arts,” Juffin said. “And why, might I ask, is your mouth still empty, while your plate is full of food? Perhaps you need a drink? If so, be my guest. Praise be the Magicians, you’re not an elf.”
“I’m so far from being an elf that I never feel like getting sloshed. Not even now.”
“That’s terrible,” Juffin said, drawing the cork from a small ceramic bottle. “I’ve never in all my days seen such a positive young man. It’s no surprise that the humble inhabitants of Echo are trying to take your life. Another’s person perfection always rankles. I definitely need a drink, though, considering the kind of conversation I’ll have to have with Korva.”
He sniffed the contents of the bottle, nodded in approval, poured it into a glass, and took a big gulp.
“Maybe we should just leave everything as it is?” I said. “Nothing really happened. A lovelorn orderly tried to make a rather nonstandard present to his patient, who was not in her right mind. So what? I’m still alive, and the would-be killer is in the morgue. I don’t see it as a problem.”
“You have rather strange ideas about what qualifies as a problem,” Juffin said. “You don’t have to extend your affection for Melamori to her parents, Max. Unlike me, you don’t even know these people. Lady Atissa and her daughter are not one and the same person, believe me.”
“I understand that very well. It’s just that I feel guilty toward the Blimms. Not guilty enough to deserve being stalked by a killer, but still. I put a lot of effort into supporting Melamori’s brave undertaking, the bravest in her life so far. But even that’s not the point. Sometimes I feel that the reason she left was because of me. Not because she couldn’t stand seeing me, of course. No, I think that she believed it was a way to finally catch up with me, and even outdo me.”
“Outdo you?”
“Yes. You know, she desperately wanted to learn to drive the amobiler faster than I do. Once we even joked that she would catch up with me one day. But it wasn’t really about the amobiler, you understand. Melamori wants to surpass me on a grand scale. Or at least catch up. It’s not even really about me—but I did become a pretty important event in her life. I’m like a novelty that she once feared. But Melamori isn’t the type to forgive herself for such lapses. Now she thinks there’s only one way out—she thinks she has to be like me. A mysterious creature up to my ears in miracles. It’s possible she went to Arvarox only because she knows I decided to leave my World one day and set out for Magicians-know-where. For ordinary Capital-city dwellers, Arvarox is almost the same as another World. Am I right?”
“Most likely.”
I shuddered under the weight of his gaze. Even a statistically average heavy gaze from Juffin weighs a ton, but this one set a new record.
“All right,” he said abruptly. “We’ll visit them together, and then we’ll see. Let’s go, Max. Korva usually goes to bed late, but he doesn’t stay up till the crack of dawn.”
The enormous Blimm mansion in the heart of the Left Bank looked more like an ancient castle. Which, in fact, it was. It had been rebuilt and renovated, and boasted a patchwork of annexes and extensions, but it was steeped in the same ineffable, disturbing smell of ancient mysteries and secrets that had tickled my nostrils that morning in Rulx Castle.
“Like it?” Juffin said. “Lady Atissa’s ancestors were distant relatives of the Ancient Royal dynasty. This little house is actually a few centuries older than Rulx. At one time it lay outside the city bounds. In those days every distinguished person had to have his own castle, especially if he wanted to enjoy nature at his leisure.”
Sir Korva Blimm, Lady Melamori’s father, about whose difficult nature she had complained more than once, met us at the door. He greeted us with calm reserve. He had the same bright-blue eyes as his amicable brother Kima, keeper of the wine cellars of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover, but their similarity ended there. Sir Korva Blimm wasn’t like any of my acquaintances, including his daughter. His grave and haughty countenance might be a welcome addition to any grandiose, formal undertaking—from a modest crusade to the conquest of the Universe.
This handsome fellow must have made quite a contribution to the Battle for the Code, I thought to myself.
“Did something happened to Melamori?” he said first thing.
“Why should something have happened to her?” Juffin said. “As far as I know, she’s just fine. Max, you’ve spoken to her recently, haven’t you?”
“The last time I heard from her was the day before yesterday,” I said, nodding. “She said she was taking part in a hunt for some enormous fish. If her words are anything to go by, the fish was several times larger than the House by the Bridge.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Sir Korva Blimm said drily. “I doubt that the size of the fish corresponds to the description, though. In all likelihood my daughter won a wrestling match with some overfed herring.”
Suddenly I started thinking that Melamori and I were comrades in sorrow. My own father also liked to downplay my achievements in public. I think if I were to go on safari and drag home a lion I had killed, he would no doubt refer to my trophy as a dead alley cat.
Of course, unlike Melamori, I had learned not to let it bother me. There were plenty of other places in the world where I could show off the lions I killed. Deep down inside, I also consider them to be just dead alley cats, but this doesn’t stop me. What’s clear is that the actual dimensions of a lion can be measured objectively. Public opinion, and even that of the hunter, doesn’t affect them in the least.
“It would be nice if you would invite us into the living room, Korva,” Juffin said. “That is not to say I have any objection to smelling the scents of a summer night, of course.”
“Please come in,” said the host.
His face showed no embarrassment whatsoever, making a seamless transition to a grimace of gracious hospitality. He looked rather annoyed, like any normal person who receives uninvited guests at home in the middle of the night.
“I need to talk to you, Korva, and Sir Max desperately needs to see your wife,” said Juffin, making himself comfortable in a sumptuous ancient armchair that might easily have served as a throne for some forgotten k
ing.
“What kind of nonsense is this?” Korva Blimm said coldly. “Atissa is already asleep. Besides, you know very well that—”
“I know a lot of things,” Juffin said. “For instance, I know that your wife’s caretaker disappeared today. Do you want to know what happened to him? The poor fellow tried to kill Sir Max here. He was so fatigued by his failed attempt that he ended up in the morgue of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order. At first I was just going to drop in for a minute on my way home and tell you the bad news. And worse news, as well—that your wife would have to be taken away. Then I was going to sleep the sleep of the just.”
Juffin made a dramatic pause, as if to say, “Now is the moment when you start to tear out your hair and beat your chest in despair.” If I were Korva, that’s probably what I would have done. But he turned out to be a worthy match. Not a single muscle on his face so much as trembled. He eyes reflected only polite interest.
Juffin seemed impressed by his restraint and continued magnanimously:
“But this eccentric young fellow here doesn’t share my views on life. He believes that Lady Atissa should stay at home. I was too lazy to argue with him, and I brought him along so he could personally make the acquaintance of the woman whose cause he was pleading. It’s just possible that he still won’t change his mind, and I’ll again be too lazy to argue with him. And then there will be one less piece of bad news.”
“I understand,” Sir Korva said, nodding. “As you might guess, the aforementioned grievous events are as much a surprise for me as they were for you. There is no need to look upon me with reproach. I know that one should express gratitude in a situation like this, but saying thank you sounds senseless and incongruous.” Sir Korva looked intently at me. “What made you decide to intervene, Sir Max? It would have been logical for you to retaliate.”
“To be honest, I don’t know myself,” I said. “It just seemed like the right thing to do. That was the logic.”
“Very well,” he said. “I like that answer. Kima was right when he said that it was easy to get along with you. I’ll take you to see Lady Atissa. You do know that she is not necessarily the most pleasant interlocutor? But you seem to know everything already. Actually, my wife is not really that mad. Sometimes it seems to me that there are plenty of people walking the streets of Echo who are far more dangerous. They just don’t have caretakers at home who are ready to sound the alarm at a moment’s notice. Sometimes Atissa sees things that aren’t there; other times she fails to notice what’s right in front of her eyes. And she reacts too emotionally to what she sees, that’s all. The wisemen say that she’s a danger to others. I don’t believe this. She hates you because once, a year or two ago, she imagined that our daughter ran into her bedroom to hide from you. Melamori and I could never persuade her that this never happened, although the girl tried very hard. In my view, she tried too hard . . . But never mind. Please, come with me.”
I stood up and followed my host in silence. It took a long time to reach his wife’s quarters. To be honest, my own little palace wasn’t much to boast about in comparison with the Blimms’. From a million miles away you could smell the vulgar scent of luxury available to any nouveau riche in the brand-new carpets that covered the floors of my residence. Here I was stepping on creaky floorboards covered with ancient tapestries. It was not unlikely that they had been woven by the fingers of real elves, in those days of yore before the poor devils succumbed to the temptations of drink.
“In here,” Korva said, stopping by a door encrusted with studs of some glistening substance. “Atissa’s still awake. Try not to distress her with your presence for too long, if you can.”
He turned around and left. His tread had seemed very heavy to me from the very first, and now I noticed that Sir Korva’s soft house slippers left such deep traces in the carpets that he would seem to be made of lead.
I opened the door carefully and entered a huge chamber plunged in semidarkness. In the farthest reaches of the room shone a small sphere of blue gas, casting a light that was too weak to penetrate the other corners.
“Is that you, Korva?” a woman’s voice said nervously. The voice sounded so much like Melamori’s that it made me question my own sanity.
“No,” I said, for some reason in a whisper. “It’s me. Excuse me for visiting you at such a late hour, my lady.”
“Come here,” she commanded. “I can’t see you.”
I went closer and stared in astonishment at a face that was almost an exact replica of Melamori’s. It was somewhat older, a bit fuller. A hardly noticeable crease between the brows and the blurred outline of the lips made Lady Atissa’s face look helpless and vulnerable—feelings our Melamori would never show to the world—but I couldn’t get over the resemblance.
“Ah, you look like a kind guest,” she said hospitably.
This surprised me. After Sir Korva’s dramatic preface, I was prepared for a pillow fight, at the very least. On the way to the chamber I had decided that it wasn’t strictly necessary to tell Lady Atissa who I was. But I was so flustered that I told her anyway.
“I’m Max,” I said. Then I added, “They say you don’t like me very much.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “Sir Max doesn’t look like you at all. I know.”
“And yet—” I began, but Lady Atissa shook her head stubbornly.
“Never mind. If you don’t want to tell me your real name, don’t. It doesn’t matter to me a bit. Do what you came to do. I know you have come to heal me. This morning my caretaker disappeared. That’s a good sign. If he disappeared, it means I don’t need a caretaker anymore, doesn’t it?”
“I have come only to make your acquaintance,” I said in confusion. “I don’t think I am able to—”
Lady Atissa shook her head stubbornly again, as if to say, “Don’t try to wriggle out of it now, friend.”
“Do you see what’s over there?” she asked all of a sudden, pointing into the darkness.
I turned around quickly but saw nothing.
“You’re as blind as all the others,” she said, sighing. “But I see everything. There’s a man standing there. He doesn’t have a face. It’s quite unpleasant. But wait!”
With surprising agility Lady Atissa got down on all fours and crawled to the very edge of her huge bed. She stared fixedly into the darkness, as if she were trying to make out a message written on the far wall, a very important but unintelligible message upon which her whole life depended.
I hesitated. I had never had any dealings with madwomen before —I felt very much out of my element. And the element I found myself in was a complete mystery to me.
Finally Lady Atissa began staring at me relentlessly. “The person without a face says you can do anything you wish to someone. Don’t you wish to help me? Tell me. Why are you trying to fool me?”
“I do want to help you,” I said, sighing.
I knew what Lady Atissa was trying to achieve. She wanted me to strike her down with my Lethal Sphere and then command her to be cured of her madness. It was a good bargain, but I would have preferred to practice on guinea pigs for a couple of years first.
“If you want to, then help,” Lady Atissa urged.
Her likeness to Melamori made my head spin, and it was already hard for me to keep track of who it was that was begging me.
“It’s dangerous,” I mumbled.
“Well, what of it?” she said coldly. “Why did you come here if you weren’t going to do anything?”
Why not? I thought.
I had recently had to undertake so many tasks that were beyond what I considered to be my abilities that I was getting used to the idea that I could. After all, the powers of my Lethal Spheres had sufficed to release the dead Jiffa Savanxa from this World, and very recently I had sent the dying Magician Glenke Taval into the unknown. It seemed that he had decided to make an appearance to Lady Atissa and tell her everything.
I snapped the fingers of my left hand—for the third time in this s
eemingly endless day. I did it without even thinking that there would be no going back. Goodness gracious, I thought, if only it doesn’t turn out that I’ve killed her! Anything but that.
But thinking about it wouldn’t change anything. The green sphere had already gently stuck Lady Atissa in the chest and then melted.
She didn’t die. She simply shuddered and stared at me with her beautiful gray eyes. Gosh, how much she looked like Melamori!
“What do you want from me?” she said in a quiet voice.
Up until now, the victims of my Lethal Spheres had announced, “I am with you, Master”—every last one of them. But it seemed that Lady Atissa’s aristocratic upbringing would not allow her to resort to such idiotic platitudes.
“You must get well,” I commanded. “You must become completely healthy again, as happy and lighthearted as you were in your youth. And no more delusions. Ever again.”
“Very well,” she said. “I will do as you wish. Anything else?”
“Now you must free yourself from my power.”
“What, may I ask, are you doing in my bedchamber, young man?” Lady Atissa said haughtily, scrambling to wrap herself up in the blanket. “Who are you?”
“I am Sir Max. I have already introduced myself, but you wouldn’t believe me when I told you the first time.”
“Ah, the secret police,” she said with a wry smile. “Still, I don’t understand what you’re doing in my bedchamber. Are you searching for felons and malefactors, or are you simply interested in the color of my nightgown? You could have acquired that information by questioning one of the maids. They have a strong sense of civic responsibility. Too strong, even. Hold on a minute. Has there been a palace coup while I was sleeping? And is the Secret Investigative Force now hunting down everyone connected to the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover? In that case you could simply give orders to my own daughter to arrest me. I am certain that Melamori would derive great satisfaction from it. Her presence in my bedchamber would have been slightly more appropriate than yours.” Lady Atissa rubbed her forehead. “By the way, do you realize that you woke me up? And that it is the middle of the night? Or are such trifling facts unworthy of your attention?”