“I see. I need to fetch another another cup for myself,” I said, thrusting my hand under the table again.
It took me less than a minute to produce a second pink cup. I took the first—and always the tastiest—sip and looked at Melifaro. He looked like a kid who was longing for ice cream and suddenly found one in his hand. Until then I hadn’t come across a single kindred spirit. My new countrymen were not enamored of the taste, or even the aroma, of coffee. Some asked in alarm whether I didn’t feel sick from drinking yet another portion of that bilgewater; others said there were more pleasant ways of parting with life.
I ransacked my pockets for cigarettes. Melifaro’s eyes began to glitter.
“Me too!” he demanded, in the desperate tone of a person who had decided to drink away his inheritance in one night.
“But you don’t smoke. You can’t even stand being around cigarette smoke.”
“I don’t smoke Uguland tobacco. I’ve never tried yours.”
“Help yourself.” I passed him a cigarette and watched how awkwardly he drew in the smoke. “It looks like you need to emigrate to my native land. You like both coffee and cigarettes, and that’s a good start.”
“Gladly. At least for a vacation,” Melifaro said. “After all those movies you brought back with you . . .”
“Exactly: the movies. Real day-to-day life is far less exciting. Maybe that’s why we have so many good films. It’s a safe, artificial dream—the same one for everybody. My compatriots bend over backward to escape their reality for a while, each in his own way. They don’t all admit it, of course. I’ve managed to find the most radical way of all. What’s true is true.”
“You can say that again,” Melifaro said, then yawned. “You know, strange as it may sound, you’ve made me feel a lot better, Monster. It’s nice to think that somewhere far, far away there are a bunch of miserable nutcases like you. So get lost, Sir Nightmare. Go do what you’ve gotta do. Go to the Dark Side and catch that blasted mouse. Rescue my girl and the rest of humanity in the bargain. I’m going to hit the sack. Now I won’t have any trouble falling asleep, that’s for sure.”
“Welcome back, Sir Melifaro,” I said softly. “Finally. Who would have thought that I would be so glad to see your brazen face again?”
“Your whole life is about getting pleasure from looking at other people’s brazen faces. That’s the only kind of pleasure you understand,” Melifaro said with admiration, leaning over the railing of the stairs leading to the bedroom.
His eyes were already fluttering shut as he ascended. I dare anyone to tell me yet again that coffee causes insomnia. There’s more common sense and truth in tales about the bogeyman.
“Are you the wiseman now?” Sir Juffin said. “Did you tuck Melifaro in and send him off to dreamland?”
“So they say.”
“Good for you.” Juffin looked at me and shook his head in surprise. “In time you’re going to make a very passable Sir Venerable Head, Max. You’ve begun to decide for others how they should proceed in life and to force them to dance to your tune. The surprising bit is that everyone seems to like it.”
“I’m not deciding for others. I only . . .” My voice trailed off, because it seemed to me that Juffin knew best. If he says it, that’s how it is. How could I understand what was happening to me when for some time it had seemed to happen even without my participation?
“Exactly,” Juffin said. “Besides, you’ve almost stopped saying silly things altogether. When you do, you break off your sentence in the middle. I never dared hope that you’d learn this old man’s art so fast.”
“I’m a fast learner. If, of course, it’s really happening to me. Sometimes I think that there’s not much of me left. Do you remember the kid who wandered around your house, his eyes wide with astonishment? He doesn’t seem to exist anymore.”
“Good riddance. I knew he wasn’t the one I wanted from the get-go. I wanted someone more like the fellow who’s sitting here in front of me now.”
“Really? Well, everything’s great, then. That means you’re not going to fire me this year, anyway.” I smiled.
“Not only am I not going to fire you, I’m not even going to give you a vacation.”
“Never?”
“Never,” Juffin said, looking very serious. “You had one long vacation from work the first thirty years of your life. You didn’t like it, as I recall.”
“No, I didn’t like it,” I said.
“If you were waiting for me, we can go now.”
We turned around. Shurf Lonli-Lokli stood in the doorway, serious and composed as usual.
“Let’s go.”
I was surprised at the buoyant force that ejected me from the armchair. It seemed I no longer needed to borrow Shurf’s holey cup to walk without touching the ground. If anything, I needed to carry a weight around so as not to float up to the ceiling.
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
This time when I strode down the mirrored corridors of Rulx Castle, I felt, to my surprise, that I was coming home. A pleasant feeling, granted—but somewhat strange under the circumstances.
“It’s the Sword,” Juffin explained. “Unlike you, it really is at home here. It was forged in one of the underground armories of the castle. If I understand correctly, you and the Sword are now one whole, so you share all of its feelings and sensations, as well.”
“Of course you understand correctly. Have I already told you that you are always right? I don’t think you’re capable of making mistakes. Nature has cruelly deprived you of that particular knack.”
“Oh, if you only knew how well I made mistakes in my time, though,” Juffin mused. “I admit, I’m a bit out of practice now.”
We stopped in front of the door to the hall where Juffin had met Doroth, Master of the Manooks. The boss had to engage in a fierce struggle with the spell that he himself had cast on it. His angry fuming and fumbling reminded me of trying to use a duplicate key to get into an apartment—in theory, it should open the door, but it only works after a great deal of fiddling and sweating. This undoubtedly builds character.
“Where are the other victims of the Uandook mouse?” said Lonli-Lokli. “As I understand it, my primary task in our undertaking is to transport this valuable cargo.”
“They will arrive shortly. I’ve already sent a call to the Palace Guard chief,” Juffin said. “Don’t distract me, or I’ll never get this sinning door open.”
A few minutes later, the feisty door creaked and opened just a crack.
“I think I should enter the room first. It’s my duty,” Lonli-Lokli said.
“Not here you won’t.” I was surprised at the commanding tone of my own voice. Shurf looked at me sharply and moved aside.
“As you wish.”
A silent guard in a patterned uniform looxi placed a neat parcel at our feet and waited respectfully some distance away.
“Is that all?” said Juffin.
“Yes, sir. Forty-eight dolls. Forty-six were found in your presence, and two more were discovered after you left.”
“Good, you may leave.” The boss dismissed him with a nod and stared at me quizzically. It was my turn to make a move. I had no idea what I should do next.
“Take the parcel, Shurf. And take mine, as well, if you don’t mind.”
To be honest, I felt awkward issuing commands to Sir Lonli-Lokli. The Master Who Snuffs Out Unnecessary Lives nodded and took the package with calm equanimity. From his point of view, I guess, everything was just as it should be.
I pushed open the door all the way and saw a narrow silvery path glinting in the semidarkness of the room.
Up until then I had tried not to think about how I was going to find the path to the Dark Side. Before, I had been taken by the hand and led there, but now I could only rely on the soothing effect of the “we’ll get there somehow” mantra.
As it turned out, my feet knew very well how to get there. They stepped onto the shimmering pathway all by themselves. I even laughed in reli
ef. King Mynin’s Shadow had known what she was talking about—this was as easy as Chakatta Pie.
“Just follow me down the path, Shurf,” I said.
“I have no doubt that you are about to walk down some pathway or another, which you also find very funny, judging by your heightened spirits. To my utmost regret, however, I do not see it,” said Lonli-Lokli.
“Okay, then just follow in my footsteps. Literally.”
“Do as he says,” said Juffin. “Our Sir Max is at the peak of his wisdom now. I hope it will pass in time, like the common cold. Happy hunting, boys.”
“Thanks,” I said as I took another step down the narrow strip of shimmering light. “Thanks for the good-luck wishes, and for everything. I’m not sure who’s going to come back from that Dark Side, me or someone else, so I just have to tell you that it’s been great. I mean the green moon over Echo, our endless lunches in the Glutton Bunba, your adorable acerbity, my second heart, the H. G. Wells story that your friend Glenke ghostwrote, and of course the streetcar on Green Street. I wouldn’t have been able to imagine it all in a million years.”
Then I began walking down the silver pathway that existed for me and me alone. I walked without looking back or worrying about anything. I knew Shurf was walking behind me, following scrupulously in my footsteps with the pedantry that only he was capable of. I caught myself staring down—first, because I was afraid of straying off the pathway; then because I couldn’t take my eyes off the play of light. Its rhythmic quivering mesmerized me. I felt like I was sleepwalking.
The narrow path was getting wider fast. It engulfed me in silvery light and obscured the rest of the World, as happens only in a dream. Then there came a moment when I realized there was no more path. I was wandering somewhere through a bright, empty space.
I felt sand crunching under my feet and heard water splashing somewhere nearby. A damp purple leaf with an intricate asymmetrical shape fell down and landed on my boot. A pale wisp of wind came close to my face and veered off at the last moment without touching it. I looked up. The sky above my head was as bright as the sky over Echo in the morning. The ground under my feet seemed firm and reliable, as it was supposed to be.
“We’re here, Shurf,” I said, dropping to the ground heavily. “I don’t know where ‘here’ is, but here we are.”
“By golly, we are,” he said, amazed. “We are here, where one cannot be. Or, at least, that is what I have heard since childhood: ‘Impossible.’ The Dark Side of Rulx Castle—unbelievable! You, Max, have led me into an ancient myth. It can’t get any better.”
“You know what’s funny? I have this immense craving for a huge mug of Madam Zizinda’s kamra,” I said, smiling. “Wouldn’t it be great if it was in my power to conjure up something like that?”
“The odd part is that there is a mug just to the right of you,” said Shurf.
I turned around and saw a steaming mug sitting not two feet from my right boot. I picked it up, took a few sips, and handed it to Shurf.
“Well, I’ll be! It is kamra, and I’ll be darned if it isn’t Madam Zizinda’s kamra. Here, try it.”
“Thank you,” said Lonli-Lokli. He shuffled around behind me for a few moments, hesitating, then came up and sat beside me, taking the mug from my hands.
“I was afraid I would disappear as soon as I stepped off of your trace,” he said. “But perhaps that danger exists only while one is on the way to the Dark Side.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But you know that I’m a lousy theoretician.”
I allowed myself a few moments to enjoy life: I lit up, took the mug with the remains of kamra away from Lonli-Lokli, and thought with a smirk that anything could change except for my habits. Well, think about it: my chest was still sore from the invisible Sword of King Mynin stuck inside it, I was no longer “too alive,” and I had made it safely to the Dark Side of Rulx Castle—something that the most powerful Magicians of this World didn’t dare dream about. Yet I needed to smoke a cigarette and take a few sips of some lukewarm beverage or other to feel tranquil and happy.
“Let’s go find Doroth, Shurf,” I said, getting up. “I wish I knew where we were supposed to look for him. Then again—”
“Look,” said Lonli-Lokli, tugging gently at the fold of my looxi. “There are some words written here. They were not here a moment ago.”
I looked down and saw a phrase written in the sand in large, neat letters. The missive read:
move away from the river and you’ll see
the tracks of the mouse from the red desert
“Sinning Magicians,” I said. “What are they, words from an anonymous well-wisher?”
Then I realized what had happened. On the Dark Side, my words turned into powerful spells, so the writing was the comprehensive answer to the question I had addressed to the emptiness.
“Now that’s what I call good service,” I said, laughing. “Shurf, do you know what just happened?”
“I think I do,” he said. “Has it ever occurred to you that you can simply command the mouse to come here? Why go somewhere yourself when your words have this power?”
“This obscene power,” I said. “Last night, one gray-eyed Shadow told me that the Origins were obscenely powerful. Now I’m beginning to understand why she chose that word.”
“Then summon the mouse here and let’s be done with it,” Lonli-Lokli said impatiently.
“Gosh, I love you even more on the Dark Side, Shurf,” I said. “But if we were sitting in your office in the Headquarters of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order, you’d frown and say in a stern voice that we should do just what the message tells us to do. Think about it: if I could just summon Doroth, the message would have said something like, ‘Call him and he will come.’”
“That is true,” said Shurf. “All right, let us move away from the river.”
For some time we wandered through pearl-colored dunes. My feet touched the ground but left no footprints, so Lonli-Lokli’s were the only boots that marked our path. Nothing surprised me anymore; it just registered with me.
“Look at these trees,” Shurf said rapturously. “I’ve been to the Dark Side many times, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“I haven’t either,” I said, raptly touching the semitransparent trunk with my finger.
I had always known that trees were beings as sentient as I was, but until then this knowledge had been purely academic. I knew the tree whose bark I had just stroked was undeniably, unequivocally alive, though. It trembled under my palm and purred quietly, like a kitten.
We walked around in circles a bit longer in this wondrous grove. I tried to concentrate on looking underfoot—somewhere here we were supposed to discover the footprints of Doroth. So far the expedition had been extraordinarily pleasant. I had expected something far more dismal and heroic from this outing. In comparison with the scenes churned up by my imagination, and after my recent encounter with King Mynin’s Shadow, who was enamored of cold steel, this was like a Sunday picnic in the park.
Soon I saw Doroth’s tracks. The small dark paw prints on the silvery ground looked clear and deep.
“Here are the tracks, Shurf,” I said. “See them?”
“No, but it is not strictly necessary. It is enough that you see them,” he said. “My task is to carry your bales and thank the heavens that this mouse turns people into rag dolls and not stone effigies. So follow the trail, Sir Origin, and I will humbly bear the luggage.”
“I have the strange sensation that we’ve traded places,” I said. “Next thing you know, I’ll be asking you to be a bit more serious.”
“Do not, I beg you,” Lonli-Lokli said with a laugh. “If I ever hear such advice from you, I will lose my wits all over again.”
“Thank you,” I said, bowing ceremoniously. “Now that’s what I call a compliment.”
Bathed in the milky-white breezes that dodged in and out between the transparent tree trunks that nestled in the dark grass, we followed the tiny tracks of
Doroth. My sense of time had always been far from perfect, but here time seemed to be suspended altogether. I have no idea how long we wandered through the strange transparent forest. Somewhat longer than half an hour, a bit less than an eternity.
“Wait a minute, please,” Lonli-Lokli said suddenly. “There is something preventing me from going any farther. And I can hardly see anything at all anymore.”
I turned to him. Shurf was standing with his back against one of the trees, and the bales with toys were lying on the ground. At first I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, but then it dawned on me.
The tree trunk was absolutely real, dark and wrinkled. It was covered with thick dark-green moss. It had none of the ghostly diaphanous shimmer of the other trees. Instead, the body of my companion had become almost transparent. Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli was slowly melting before my very eyes, like a lump of ice cream in a hot room.
For an entire second I stood there blinking, not knowing what to do. Then I realized that I had no choice but to believe my words really were powerful incantations—which would definitely come in handy just about now.
“I want Shurf to be all right so he can accompany me farther.”
I’m afraid I spoke in the frightened voice of a child who was suddenly told to pick out a present for himself, and who took the risk of asking for the impossible—a motorcycle or a live hippopotamus—knowing beforehand that he was going too far, and that they would rap him over the knuckles or stand him in a corner for his impudence.
“You do not understand. This is no longer the Dark Side, Max,” Lonli-Lokli said in a hoarse, weak voice. “This is most likely that infamous Inside-Out. I once read in an old manuscript that people disappear when they stray into this place. They melt, like shadows in the dark. Now it is happening to me. I am not complaining. At least I made it here. I have had many opportunities in my lifetime to die in far more ignoble ways.”
“I don’t give a damn about your blasted legends!” I was shocked at the sharpness of my tone. “So don’t you even think about dying on me like an imbecile. And don’t you dare disappear! Sir Shurf, I’m talking to you! Now unstick yourself from that sinning tree. This instant! Then pick up your bales and follow me. You will not melt into the dark but come with me like a good boy. Because that’s the way I want it!” By the end of my rant I was screaming.