The Stranger's Shadow

  “I don’t know myself what kind of room this is,” Juffin said. “I’ve seen Mynin’s Dream many times, but each time I ended up in a different place. I think this space is as large as any inhabited World.”

  “What do we do now? Will Mynin’s Shadow come here to us? Or do we have to go somewhere to find it?”

  “We wait. We have the hat and the sword with us—that should be enough. His Shadow knows that we came to see it. I don’t think it has any reason to avoid us. Also, we don’t have to wait standing up: there’s a couch here.”

  With these words, the boss lowered himself onto a bright-blue spot. I bravely took his lead and discovered that I had sat down on something soft and comfortable.

  “We have company. We didn’t even have to wait,” Juffin said in a whisper.

  Then he put his arm around my shoulders, as if to shield me from invisible misfortune. I almost got scared—and praise be the Magicians it was “almost.” It would have been ridiculous to wake up on a heap of blankets, wailing in terror. I guess we would have had to start all over again.

  I strained my eyes to make out the presence that Juffin sensed. An invisible danger is, of course, always more frightening. I stared into the kaleidoscope of colored spots and suddenly perceived at the other end of the room a small human figure wrapped in a long overcoat that resembled our looxis. It approached us at a leisurely pace, moving in a way that seemed coquettish rather than threatening. That was not surprising since I was almost certain that the figure coming toward us was a woman, and I was used to thinking that women were not a source of danger. That was foolish of me, of course. There have been some dangerous creatures even among my girlfriends.

  “Mynin’s Shadow is a woman?” I said in a whisper. “How can that be?”

  “A woman? Why a woman?” Juffin said. “Well, yes, in some sense you’re right. Mynin’s Shadow is not a man, in any case. Wait a minute, did you really think that a Shadow had a sex and corresponding attachments on the body so there’s no mistaking it? My, my, Sir Max—you’re a piece of work. Even here you make me laugh.”

  “Well, I have to earn my royal salary somehow,” I said sighing. “I thought that Shadows of men were also men, and vice versa.”

  “I thought you thought that. Congratulations.”

  In the meantime, the dim silhouette had come right up to us. I peered into the face of the Shadow. It seemed very ordinary to me. I expected to see something that made more of an impression. Deep inside, I was sure that the legendary King Mynin and, accordingly, his Shadow were bound to have glittering eyes, a noble forehead, a chiseled Roman nose—and so forth and so on.

  I discovered nothing of the sort on the face of the Shadow that approached us, which I continued to perceive as a woman. Her countenance showed no clear signs of age, sex, or even character. It was the dispassionate face of a Greek statue, with regular but inexpressive features.

  “The hat is on the wrong head, the sword in the wrong hands. Switch,” the Shadow said. She spoke in a high voice that grated on the ear, but I immediately sensed the tremendous power lurking behind that falsetto.

  Juffin took the Hat from me and placed the Sword on my knees. I gripped the carved hilt mechanically, and suddenly I felt something I had never before experienced: I knew with absolute certainty, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that everything in my life now was right. At last.

  “It is now yours,” the Shadow said. “Return to your friend the money he paid poor Toklian for it.”

  I groped around in the pocket of my Mantle of Death, where I actually did find a whole fistful of coins. I counted out eleven crowns and handed them to Juffin. He took the money with perfect calm and put it in his pocket. I laughed in spite of myself.

  “Money has always slipped through my fingers, but I never thought I’d be a spendthrift even in a dream.”

  Juffin smiled, too. The Shadow waited until we returned to sobriety, then trained her attention on me.

  “You are a good boy,” she said, “but you are too alive for an Origin. It is not fitting. Will you come with me?”

  I looked at Juffin uncertainly. He shrugged. “It’s up to you. I would accept the invitation if I were you,” he said. Then he added, with a hint of anger in his tone, “To be honest, I’m mortally envious of you.”

  “I cannot take you with me, Hunter.” Now the Shadow trained her gaze on Juffin. “But I can let you take another stroll. You love mystery, do you not? That is the only thing you do love, and it will always be thus. I know how it is.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “Walk along the left wall of this room,” said the Shadow. “Try to find the door. I think you’ll manage. This will be a nice stroll. You’ll find several secrets, exactly to your liking. You will not find the secret you came here for, however. That one is for your companion only. There are matters that are only for Origins—you know that yourself.”

  “I do know,” Juffin said. “I will follow your advice without fail. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome. I like giving such gifts. But there are not many who are so willing to accept them.”

  The Shadow turned and slowly moved away. I understood that I was to follow her. Parting with Juffin was the last thing on earth I wanted at this moment, but I didn’t seem to have a choice.

  I got up from the blue couch and shuddered in horror: I couldn’t take a single step. I was again stuck in the viscous air like an insect in amber. The Shadow didn’t even turn to look at me. Apparently, I was supposed to deal with this problem on my own.

  “I told you that indecisiveness is a luxury you can’t indulge in here,” Juffin reminded me. “Vacillating between curiosity and the desire to leave everything as it is may be lethal. Choose one or the other.”

  Hell, I already chose, I thought angrily. Sure, I don’t feel like following into the unknown this strange creature who considers me “too alive.” Who doesn’t have a moment of weakness now and then? But I made the choice ages ago when I stuffed my backpack full of sandwiches and set off to find the streetcar stop on Green Street. Although, no, it was much earlier, when I read the story about the green door in a white wall, shed angry tears for the protagonist, and vowed to myself that I’d never pass up my chance. I didn’t pass it up. Here I am. I’m not going to regret it. It was the right choice. The best one I ever made in my long and pointless life.

  This incoherent inner monologue worked on me like a powerful incantation. I was suddenly free again, and took one step and then another, without even noticing it. I set out in pursuit of the slowly receding Shadow of King Mynin, who had disappeared three thousand years before. I followed without hesitation and without looking around, clutching in my untrained hand his own Sword.

  I caught up with my guide, and we continued side by side.

  Several endless minutes later, I finally realized that a great deal of time had passed since we had left the room where Juffin still remained. We were wandering through a deserted space that felt to me more like being outside than inside a room. My perceptions about these things were hardly valid, however, like any attempt to attach familiar notions to incomprehensible experiences.

  “Do you know that meeting me is the greatest fortune in your life?” the Shadow asked out of the blue.

  I nodded.

  “My own experience attests to the fact that Origins are obscenely powerful yet too vulnerable,” the Shadow said in the tone of a university professor. “The one who was called Mynin paid a high price to learn of his own vulnerability. The joy of becoming invulnerable will cost you very little. Only eleven crowns, and a bit more in fear and pain. In truth, very little, believe me.”

  “May I know what happened to you . . . to him?” Of course, I needed urgently to distract myself from my panicky thoughts about the promised fear and pain. This seemed to be the only way. Besides, I really was burning with curiosity, so I went on. “More than once I heard that King Mynin disappeared, but the word ‘disappeared’ only means something for those who stay
behind. But the one who is said to have ‘disappeared’ in fact undergoes something more concrete. Death, or another life, or even—”

  “Consider that with Mynin it was ‘or even.’ In any case, it was neither death nor another life. Perhaps someday you will find the precise answer, perhaps not. Stop here. There is no need to go farther. This place is no worse than the others.”

  I stopped and looked around. I was still as helpless as a four-eyes who had sat on his glasses. There were colored spots dancing and swaying all around me.

  “It is beautiful here, is it not?” the Shadow said. “You will have ample opportunity to understand this in time. Show me your left hand, Origin.”

  I obeyed. Her hands were unexpectedly soft and warm. The Shadow opened my fingers carefully and examined the marks that had appeared on my left palm after the old nomad Fairiba pronounced my unwieldy True Name. I regret to say I didn’t remember it myself.

  “This is the most remarkable inscription I have ever witnessed,” the Shadow said. “I know the ancient alphabet of the Xonxona, but I cannot read your True Name. It slips away. All the better for you. Now give me the Sword.”

  I was very reluctant to give the Shadow my new toy. It wasn’t that I seriously intended to fight for my life with this ungainly object, but merely touching the Sword gave me a sense of calm and protection.

  Still, I held out the Sword to her. Something told me I had to, because . . . Actually, this “something” didn’t go into detail. It was more like, “Do as you’re told and zip it.”

  As soon as I let go of the Sword, I felt defenseless and terribly alone. I was terrified because it became clear to me why King Mynin’s Shadow had taken the Sword away.

  “Do not be afraid,” the Shadow said softly. “I will not bring you harm. On the contrary. You are too alive. That is why you always want something, and why you are always afraid. Your feelings gush over; their scent attracts death to you like a magnet. Sooner or later death will take you, however many protective amulets and powerful friends you have to guard you from it. Death craves Origins. We are its tastiest delicacies. It always gobbles us whole. People want to believe that nothing ends past the Threshold. This turns out to be true for some of them, but not for Origins. Our death is always the end. This is the price for the power that almost none of us succeeds in using well. You sensed this yourself, did you not?”

  I nodded, trembling from unprecedented horror. It was so strong, it felt like physical pain. I had always thought that the myths of life after death were just reassuring lullabies that kept us from falling into despair and madness. I strongly suspected that these promises of life beyond the grave didn’t pertain to me. This knowledge felt like a gnawing pain in my chest, and I could only be thankful that it wasn’t as bad as a toothache, so excruciating you feel like you’re losing your mind.

  “Now be calm. Do nothing. Just look at your left hand,” the Shadow commanded. “And fear not. All will be well. It is not possible to die here for real.”

  “Only for pretend?” I said, my face twisting into a grin.

  Then I stared at the intricate interwoven patterns on my palm. I stared at them while the sword’s greenish steel pierced my breast as though I were a lump of soft butter. I noticed this with curious indifference, like an outside observer and not the protagonist of this scene from a medieval romance. A moment later I had no doubts that the ache in my chest was a normal, human, nearly unbearable pain. I wanted to scream out, but I couldn’t utter a sound. My mouth twitched convulsively, and my face was wet with sweat or tears—or both at once.

  “The pain will subside soon,” said the Shadow. “It is a wonder that you are still standing. That is a good sign.”

  The pain did lessen to the degree that it became bearable.

  “Look what happened to the Sword,” said the Shadow.

  I lowered my gaze and saw that the ancient blade had penetrated my breast so deeply that it had nearly disappeared. The sword was melting like ice in the hot sun. As the pain receded, it carried away something else with it as well. Maybe it was that absurd boy I had once been—and not so very long ago.

  “Now the Sword will always be with you. This is better for both of you. You need a good protector, and the Sword has long needed a trustworthy refuge. Your chest is just the place. It is far better than a wretched hole in the Shimured Forest. Is the pain gone now?”

  “Almost,” I said, nodding. “For a person who was just killed, I feel superb. Just a bit achy, like I sat too long in a draft.”

  “A draft? Is that a kind of wind?”

  “A close relative, anyway.”

  “Yes, they certainly are close. Death is like the wind: an invisible but palpable power that is always ready to knock us off our feet. Perhaps this pain will return to you from time to time, but not for long. It is not too high a price to pay for invulnerability.”

  “Do you mean to say I’m immortal now?”

  “Not immortal but invulnerable. This means that death will truly get out of your way—for the time being. At some point it will find a way to reach even you. Never mind, you will have the chance to find out how Origins outsmart death. You are still too young yet. I find it hard to believe you are so young.”

  “I am,” I said. “Though sometimes I feel I was born a very long time ago. Only my ‘very long time ago’ can’t be measured in hours or days.”

  “All Origins belong to eternity, and you will gradually come to understand that,” the Shadow said. “Now let us talk of practical matters. You wish to hunt down my mouse, do you not?”

  “It’s not really that I wish to hunt it down, but it looks like I’m going to have to. People I am responsible for have suffered. Can you help me?”

  “You do not need my help. I can give you with a piece of advice, however. You can now easily pass over to the Dark Side from Rulx Castle. My Sword is part of you now, and it is the best key for one who intends to set out for the Dark Side and farther, to its Inside-Out. If you wish, you may take with you someone who belongs to the Dark Side. Origins should bear gifts such as this. You will without doubt find Doroth in some secluded nook. He is frightened and hiding. In spite of all his power and his more than ripe old age, Doroth is just a foolish little beast. You must also take with you all those whom he enchanted. Perhaps on the Inside-Out of the Dark Side, you will find a way to bring them back to life. This is their only chance. Only beyond the boundaries of the World can you hope to overmaster the ancient spells of the red heart of the continent of Uandook.”

  The Shadow fell silent and stared at me with her cold, gray eyes.

  “You look like Pallas Athena,” I said all of a sudden. Then I grew confused and decided to make up for my blundering remark by explaining myself. “In the World where I was born, there was a gray-eyed goddess named Athena. There were people who believed in her, anyway. I saw depictions of her, and you resemble her.”

  “No need to explain. While you are here with me, I know everything you know, including all the fairy tales that fascinate you. You speak of the goddess who sometimes helped people, but only those she liked. You have a beautiful legend about an Origin by the name of Ulysses, who for a very long time could not return home. Keep in mind that the reason he couldn’t return was because he did not wish to—the curses of the gods had nothing to do with it. His story is nothing like yours, but it’s still one and the same story. All Origins are wanderers among people because they do not wish to come home. Perhaps we all still remember that home is a terrifying place.”

  “You don’t mean the home where I was born, do you?” I said quietly.

  “Of course not. The home where you were born, and the home where you count on waking up tonight, and the home where you, presumably, will return on an evening a thousand years hence—these are all just pieces of land, surrounded by walls and covered over to protect them from the sky. Places where you can lie down in your bed and close your eyes briefly at dawn. Nothing more. Do you understand my meaning? Now go. They are waiti
ng for you.”

  The Shadow came right up and embraced me, pressing her heavy, cold body against mine. Her touch felt almost unendurable. It was as if we were made of different, incompatible matter. I steeled myself, and then suddenly I was alone.

  The ground shifted beneath my feet, and a warm wind blew against my face. It grew stronger and stronger, and I knew I shouldn’t try to resist it. Let it have its way. After all, I had never promised to stand my ground, come what may.

  Then I learned what the wind feels when it blows above empty expanses, bending stalks of dry grass down to the earth. I can’t describe these sensations. Human languages do not have words for them; human experience does not encompass such experiences. It was not possible to say, “It was like . . .”—for it was unlike anything else.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Sir Max, alive and kicking,” Juffin said in his most jocular manner.

  His voice jerked me out of the somnolent darkness, at the bottom of which my inarticulate but sweet adventures had safely landed me and drawn to a close. I opened my eyes, saw the smiling face of the boss, and closed them again. When Sir Juffin Hully smiles like that, it means all is well. And if all is well, I can safely hit the snooze button.

  “I get it,” Juffin said. “You think I’m going to pick you up, put you into your crib, and stick your thumb in your mouth. Well, tough. You’ve got two legs, so move them.”

  “Is it necessary?” I said.

  “It’s necessary. I’m not planning on carrying you piggyback up all those stairs. If you decide to close your peepers right here, keep in mind that you don’t have much chance of getting a good night’s sleep in this cellar. Unless you want to go back to Mynin’s Dream, of course.”

  “Oh, no. I’ve had enough for now.”

  I managed to struggle to my feet and take a few uncertain steps. Surprised at this recently reacquired ability, I walked out into the corridor.

  By the time we had finished dragging our long-suffering feet up the endless steps of the staircase, I was more or less awake. My condition, however, still prevented me from feeling I was a full-fledged representative of organic life.