The Stranger's Shadow

  “Maybe I can tell you about everything tomorrow?” I said. “If I have to give you a report here and now, it won’t turn out too well.”

  “You don’t have to report anything to me,” Juffin said, smiling. “Not today. Not tomorrow.”

  “You probably know everything already.”

  “I don’t know, but I can guess. Rather, I draw conclusions based on observations. Mynin’s Sword—the bargain of a lifetime, by the way—is missing. Your clothes are stained in blood, and there’s an impressive hole in your looxi. At the same time you don’t look like you’re wounded. From all that I infer that I’d better not stick my long nose into any mysteries of Origins. I’d like to, naturally, but that’s just out of habit. You’d call it a ‘conditional reflex.’”

  “I might,” I said. “I’m going home, okay? I’ll get some shut-eye, and then I’ll mop the floor with this Doroth.”

  “Of course,” the boss said. “I intend to remind myself what it’s like to sleep in my own bed, too. By the way, it’s already nearly noon.”

  “And Melifaro hasn’t shown up yet?” I said, suddenly alarmed.

  “I sent him a call while we were climbing the stairs. I had to do something to amuse myself. His conversation with your subjects was in full swing, but I told him to take himself in hand and give up this unearthly pleasure immediately. He’s coming back this evening. I think you should be awake by then.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” I said, yawning. “I’m almost sure I could sleep for several days running.”

  “Doesn’t matter how sure you are,” the boss said. “If I say you’ll wake up, you will. Any more questions?”

  “Nope,” I said with a sigh. “No questions. And no me, either. I’m gone.”

  I barely managed to get behind the lever of the amobiler. After that, everything was much easier. I was hardly aware of braking next to my house on the Street of Yellow Stones. I didn’t want to barge in on Tekki in a bloodstained Mantle of Death with an eloquent hole in my chest. And I had no idea what my face looked like. I forgot to look into the mirror in the hallway at the Ministry of Perfect Public Order. But it wasn’t just that. I felt the need to be alone, like a dying cat.

  This time the spacious empty apartment where I almost never spent any time these days finally seemed like the perfect place to come home to after . . . I wasn’t yet ready to put into words what had happened to me.

  I went up to the second floor and took off my clothes, still sticky with blood. Then I studied my chest, somehow noncommittally. There was not a mark to be seen where it had been pierced with the Sword. Odd. The blood was very real, and the rent in the Mantle of Death, too. Well, whaddaya know.

  Then I rolled up into a ball on the edge of the bed, pulled several blankets over myself, and finally dozed off.

  Of course, Juffin’s call jolted me awake. It was the most reliable alarm clock—and the most merciless—in the Universe. When I looked out the window, I saw that it was already dark. This alone suggested that I had been able to sleep my fill, though my own body told me otherwise.

  You’ll get a headache, the boss said. Too much sleep is worse than a hangover.

  No, it’s not, I protested.

  Let’s continue this enlightening discussion in my office. In thirty minutes.

  An hour, I countered.

  Then I went all the way downstairs, because Echo had turned me into an awful sybarite. From time to time I catch myself thinking that a person who has just woken up must splash around in at least eight bathing pools in succession.

  An hour later, as promised, I crossed the threshold of the House by the Bridge. In addition to Juffin himself, Lonli-Lokli was sitting in the office. They were both munching away. This cheered me up. I had already worked up an appetite during my watery orgy, but there had been no time for breakfast.

  “Has Melifaro crawled back to Echo yet?” I said, looking up from the mug of kamra I was already guzzling. “No? Why did you wake me up then?”

  “Sir Max decided to economize on breakfast again,” Juffin said, like he was plumbing the depths of the human soul.

  I sighed histrionically. The boss could elaborate on this subject endlessly. But he did deign to answer my question.

  “Melifaro should be here shortly. He sent me a call saying that he was just driving through the Gates of Kexervar the Conqueror.”

  “Oh, no, that means the speed demon should be here by tomorrow morning,” I said.

  “Max, don’t get so uppity,” Juffin said. “If I had known that that sinning Shadow would mess with your mood and turn you into a grouch, I would never have invited you to spend time in her company.”

  “I think she really did mess with my mood,” I said. “I don’t feel myself tonight.”

  “I, too, think you have changed, but it is for the better,” said Lonli-Lokli. “You have certainly become calmer. Before, even the furniture would get nervous once you walked into a room.”

  “Calmer? Perhaps. I guess I just stopped being ‘too alive.’ I’m glad you like me this way,” I said with a crooked grin. “Then again, I put up with your exacting nature for so long that you should welcome me into the ranks of grumblers and mumblers.”

  “Well, never mind your temper, present or past,” Juffin put in. “Before you went to sleep, you threatened to wipe the floor with our little rascal of a mouse when you woke up. Perhaps you would care to preface this exploit with a little introductory lecture?”

  “Only if you would be so kind as to preface my lecture with another order from the Glutton Bunba. I never thought it possible that a person who was still hardly awake could be so famished. Now I know it is.”

  “Congratulations. Learning something firsthand is always more convincing,” Juffin said. “By the way, I sent a call to the Glutton as soon as I saw the vampirish gaze on your face. It should arrive any minute now.”

  “Excellent. Then I probably won’t have time to eat alive any of those present. As for the mouse, I’m planning to follow its trace to the Dark Side of Rulx Castle. Mynin’s Shadow promised me that I’d succeed. In everything. I hope it wasn’t just a sick joke. Do you happen to know whether King Mynin had a sense of humor? What do the ancient legends say about it?”

  “Don’t digress,” Juffin said. “You know, Max, I think you’re as alive as ever.”

  “My hunger is making me cranky. If you don’t feed me, watch out, I may set out in search of human flesh.”

  As if to ward off that possibility, the door to the office flew open and a young messenger from the Bunba came in with a tray laden with contents I lost no time in trying to devour.

  “I’ll have to take all his poor victims with me,” I said with my mouth full. “The dolls, I mean. Here in the World there is no way to help them, but there is still a chance there, they say. I won’t be able to carry the goods all by myself, and I don’t want to hide them in my fist. My hands need to be free, at least. So I’ll need an assistant.” I winked at Lonli-Lokli. “Well, Sir Shurf, do you feel like taking a walk with me to the Dark Side of Rulx Castle and back?”

  “I’d consider it an honor,” he said solemnly. He made it sound like I’d offered him the post of prime minister in a newly formed government. After pausing for a moment to think, Shurf said, “Do I have an hour and a half to take care of a few matters?”

  “You have an hour and a half,” I said like a rich man passing out alms.

  “Very well. In that case, I will not say goodbye to you, gentlemen,” he said and hastened out the door.

  “Can you really take him with you?” There was a note of surprise in Juffin’s voice. At another time I might have swelled with pride, but now I just shrugged.

  “Sure. That is, if your legendary King Mynin didn’t have a passion for practical jokes.” I smiled at Juffin. “I would be very glad to invite you, but to expect you to carry the luggage—that would be going too far.”

  “How long have you been studying the art of diplomacy, your majesty?” Juffin said
caustically. Then he softened and smiled an almost sad smile. “Of course you made the right decision. You can’t bestow a gift like that on me. Although you are perfectly capable of saddling others with your horrible souvenirs. Sir Shurf is the prime candidate for them: you have made a mockery of his life and reason many times already.”

  “Are you saying that by way of praise?”

  “A hole in the heavens above you! You can already read my mind,” the boss said with feigned horror. “If things keep going like this, you’ll soon be sitting in my chair or in Xolomi. One of the two.”

  “Let’s leave everything as it is,” I suggested. “Xolomi isn’t bad, but Tekki won’t like it. She’ll tattle on me to her dad. And I already sit in your chair nearly every night. It’s just an ordinary chair.”

  In the doorway appeared all that was left of Melifaro. It wasn’t much, to be honest. The poor guy looked so exhausted that it seemed he had walked the whole way. He struggled to restore his habitual smile to his weary, beleaguered face.

  “Good evening. Do you have anything here to eat that isn’t sweet? The nomads decided that any close friend of their sovereign leader deserved to be nourished only with cheap candy and cookies. I was afraid that if I refused, the only alternative would be the traditional dish of menkal dung. So I ate my sweet things like a good boy.”

  “It looks like my subjects really wore you out.”

  “‘Wore me out’ is putting it mildly. During the sugar orgy I had to listen to forty-nine original versions of the legend of Doroth, Master of the Manooks. Praise be the Magicians, another two dozen volunteers wanting to shed the light of their wisdom on me turned out to be third-rate storytellers, so Sir Barxa Bachoy ordered them—and I quote—to ‘stuff their mouths full of moldy dung and shove off.’ But I shouldn’t gripe. I found out a great deal about that sinning Doroth. By the way, the nomads are sure that the Manooks hid their sleeping leader in one of the bales with the booty of the conquerors, in the hopes that he would wake up in Echo and avenge their defeat. They unanimously agree that he is to blame for what happened to the girls.”

  “And they are absolutely right. I’m sorry, Sir Melifaro,” Juffin said. “It seems we sent you there for nothing. While you were enjoying your banquet with the worthy sons of the Barren Lands, I had a personal encounter with the legendary Doroth. Then Max and I undertook an exploratory expedition to find out about him, and—”

  “Just tell me one thing. Can we save them?” Melifaro implored.

  “I’m going to try, anyway,” I said. “If you want to, we can go to the Furry House together. I have to gather all the victims into one big sack.”

  “Why in a sack?” Melifaro said. He sounded indignant.

  “To take them to the fair in Numban. At least we’ll be able to make some money off this misfortune,” I said.

  When I saw his crumpled face, I was sorry I had said it. I hurried to make amends.

  “I’m taking them to the Dark Side. That’s where our friend Doroth is scampering about now.”

  “So we’re going to the Dark Side?” Melifaro sounded happy.

  “To the Dark Side of Rulx Castle,” I said softly. “So your mission will be the hardest of all: you’ll have to stay behind and wait to see how it all ends.”

  “The Dark Side of Rulx Castle?” He was alarmed. “But that’s impossible. Juffin, what is he going on about? Ah, I understand. Some tipsy elf must have shown up again, bringing along a dozen lumps of rust for sale, and you all drank yourselves into oblivion to seal the deal.”

  “Magicians be praised, Max means every word. And he’s being surprisingly straightforward,” the boss said, laughing. “So go with him to the Furry House, and after that go home. I can see you’re dying to get some sleep.”

  “I am,” Melifaro said, “but I’d feel much better if I could take part in the hunt for that omnipotent piece of mouse turd. If only as a Sentry. After all, the lousy scoundrel cast a spell on my girlfriend.”

  “I understand you completely,” Juffin said, “but someone who passes over to the Dark Side of Rulx Castle doesn’t need a Sentry. Max is right. You must stay home and wait. As we both know, this isn’t easy, but you are a brave man and a great hero, and people like you are few and far between. You’ll manage. Remember when you had just arrived here to take up your post and your life felt like one long bout of insomnia, with or without cause?”

  “I remember,” Melifaro said glumly. “You taught me the Moffaruna lullaby. Are you hinting that it will come in handy again? Don’t worry, Juffin, I won’t get underfoot or trouble you in any way. I’m not a kid anymore. I’ll help Max gather up the dolls, and then I’ll go home to sleep. After this trip I don’t think I’ll be needed a lullaby, either. I’m beat. Let’s go, Monster.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Juffin.

  “Of course you will,” he said.

  “Are you sure this outing of yours will work out?” Melifaro said, settling in beside me on the front seat of the amobiler.

  “How can I be sure?”

  “But do you know how to get back?”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” I said, smiling. “Besides, I stand a good chance of surviving. I’ll be in the company of Sir Shurf. He’ll whack their butts, if push comes to shove.”

  Melifaro let out a guffaw. “Whack their butts!” he groaned in delight. “I can see it now.”

  “Yep, me too,” I said, pulling up in front of the Furry House.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, crossing the threshold of my residence. “Your subjects asked me to tell you that they won’t go any farther until they learn about how everything turns out. Can you imagine, they set up camp right in the garden of some poor farmer. I had to negotiate with him. I had to explain that it’s not the beginning of a war, and to swear that His Majesty Gurig VIII will find a way to compensate him for the inconvenience. Anyway, keep in mind that when all this mouse business is over, you’ll have to send a messenger to them. Otherwise your subjects will never return to their Barren Lands and will be the first nomadic tribe in Uguland. Then all their pining relatives and neighbors will join them. Imagine what that will be like.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “So nice of my subjects to be concerned about my domestic affairs, although I’d rather they just went home.”

  We went up to the bedroom, where I collected the rag doll servants I had so solicitously arranged on the pillows the day before. While I looked around for something to pack them in, Melifaro gave the edge of the curtain a sharp tug. The material ripped, and a large piece of lilac checked fabric lay at my feet.

  “How thoughtless of you. This is royal property,” I said. “His Majesty Gurig took such care to choose the right pattern and color. I’m sure he even lost sleep over it.”

  “Right, I’m sure he wanted the curtains to match all the colors of your crazy eyes. Well, are they all packed away?”

  “All except for the girls. They’re in the next room. Perhaps I should put them in my pockets. Young ladies shouldn’t travel in such close proximity to strange men.”

  Melifaro nodded and dashed out of the room. He returned with two daintily dressed dolls.

  “Tuck them away in your pockets, Mister Lucky Break,” Melifaro said. He paused and then put his hand under his armpit. He took out one more doll and smoothed the mussed-up threads that had once been the short dark hair of Lady Kenlex. I saw how hard it was for him to part with her.

  “I will comport myself like a true gentleman,” I promised. “Not a single attempt to fulfill my conjugal duties, honest.”

  Melifaro grinned, almost like he used to in the good old days. “Come off it, I know you better than that!”

  I drove Melifaro home. He dawdled a bit in front of his house.

  “Maybe you want to come in?” he said uncertainly. “The last thing I want to do right now is sit in my own living room all by myself. ‘The dinner will be over once and for all,’ as your rotund friend would say. And after a visit f
rom such a terrible, rude, and disgusting guest as you, solitude will feel like a gift of fortune. Do you still have half an hour to spare?”

  “No, but I’ll come in anyway. After all those insults, I’m duty bound to ruin your evening.”

  “Awesome,” Melifaro said, beaming. “Now we’ll have a little tussle, and when I’m all tired out, I’ll fall asleep right on the floor. Do you want a drink? When I was home the last time, I think I saw a bottle of some kind of firewater or other. True, after seeing that miserable elf, I was so distressed I might have thrown it away. You’ll have to rummage around in the trash for it.”

  “That doesn’t sound too inviting. You’d never make a career in advertising,” I said. “Besides, I don’t want anything, except maybe some coffee. You can’t help me there, so I’ll have to forage on my own.”

  I stuck my hand under the table and tried to remember the heavenly cappuccino I had tasted a whole eternity ago in a tiny Italian restaurant in . . . I didn’t even remember which city it was. My memories were shrouded in a thick mist. They stayed with me, but now, instead of clear, unchanging pictures, I found scattered fragments, mutable and shifting, like the patterns in a kaleidoscope. The reliable glue that had linked them together in a chain of cause and effect had expired. I never noticed how it had happened.

  This did not prevent me from drawing a cappuccino out of the Chink between Worlds, however. My hand grew numb, but my disobedient fingers didn’t drop their valuable plunder: a pink porcelain cup with a white foamy cloud resting on top of its contents. There was even a little cookie on the edge of the saucer.

  “What’s that?” said Melifaro.

  “Coffee. It used to be my favorite drink. A million years ago, it seems. Want to try it?”

  “Sure.”

  I handed him the cup. Melifaro carefully dipped his tongue in the milky froth and melted into a blissful smile.