Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic
The Stranger (48 page)
This time it was very easy for me to pass from one dream to another. I changed dreams at will. When I was bored by walking in the park, I stepped over to the beach. Sad and lonely among the sandy dunes, I suddenly found myself in the cabin of the cable car. Several times I thought I heard the quiet laughter of Maba Kalox nearby, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. Even this seemed like a remarkable incident to me, however.
I woke up before noon, feeling absolutely free and happy. Events of the recent past seemed to me to be part of a good adventure film, the future didn’t scare me, and the present suited me to a tee. After I had washed, I wrapped myself in a skaba and looxi of fiery bright colors, which I had picked out yesterday for the vibrant contrast they made with my malevolently glowering uniform, and sent a call to Melifaro.
You’re already up? You’ve got to be kidding! And I’m still so tired I can’t move! Well, go downstairs and drink some kamra with my esteemed father. Or by yourself, if he’s already gone. I’ll join you in an hour and a half.
I went down to the living room, where my eyes were met by a remarkable spectacle. A fellow of enormous proportions, his eyes downcast, stood by the table, wheedling and moaning.
“But Father, why?”
“Because it will be better that way,” answered his elder in the voice of someone losing his patience. It belonged to a shortish, elegant man whose red hair was woven into a luxuriant braid. I swear to the World, the braid extended all the way to the floor! Sizing up the situation, I realized that this must be Sir Manga Melifaro, the author of the
Encyclopedia
I so ardently admired.
Encyclopedia
I so ardently admired.
“A good morning to you, gentlemen.”
I was beaming with pleasure as I entered the living room. This was strange, since I am usually shy around new people, and I can’t stand introductions.
“Good morning, Sir Max Baxba, greet our guest.”
“Good morning, Sir Max,” the sad giant repeated obediently.
“Well, all right. Go to your trader, boy. Only remember—we need six horses. Six, not twelve! As far as I’m concerned we don’t need them at all, but since you have your heart set on it. But not a dozen! Is that clear?”
“Yes, Father! Goodbye, Sir Max. You’ve brought me luck!” And the giant, already cheerful, bounded out of the room.
“My eldest, Sir Max,” Sir Manga said with evident disbelief. “A child of ‘youthful passions,’ as they say. I can’t fathom how I produced something like that!”
“You are truly a man of passion, Sir Manga,” I smiled, and poured myself some kamra. It was as good as the kamra from the
Glutton
, hands down.
Glutton
, hands down.
“I can’t believe it myself. Besides Baxba and Melifaro, which would be more than enough to break a father’s heart, I have another, middle son—Sir Anchifa Melifaro. I’m embarrassed to admit that he’s a pirate. And one of the most cutthroat, if I’m to believe the dockside rumors. Although he’s quite as homely and diminutive as I am myself.”
“That’s good for a sailor,” I said. “It’s best to travel light, and insofar as it’s hard to leave one’s own body at home, it should be as compact as possible.”
“You no doubt bonded with my youngest,” Sir Manga grinned. “You’ve both got the gift of gab.”
“Moreover, he just has a last name, and I only have a first name. Together we make up one whole person.”
“True, that. Were you really born on the border of the County Vook and the Barren Lands? I don’t recall meeting any young fellows like you there.”
“Me either,” I had to shrug indifferently. “Maybe I’m just one of a kind.”
“It looks that way. Sir Max, I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”
“Sinning Magicians, why?”
“While Melifaro’s still sleeping I can let you in on a secret. Recently he asked me about some customs of your countrymen. Now I understand why he needed to know.”
“Close friendship rituals?”
“Exactly. Did Melifaro already engage in some strange antics?”
“No, but someone else did.”
“A hole in the heavens above, Sir Max! You see, I’m quite vain. And when there’s something I don’t know . . . In short, I couldn’t shame myself in front of my youngest son. I had to think up a story about singing some idiotic songs outside at midnight.”
“That fellow sang them at midday. Besides, I work the night shift, so I couldn’t be present for a midnight serenade. But I came to an agreement with him. He promised to limit himself to the music that sounds in his irreproachable heart.”
“Praise be the Magicians! Because I got carried away and told him that—”
“That on the Last Day of the Year we had to clean each other’s toilets? That certainly came as a surprise to me.”
“Oh no, Max. I could never have said anything of the sort! I know a thing or two about the Barren Lands. There are no toilets to speak of, much less to found a friendship on!”
“Hm, so that was a collaborative invention. Melifaro swore on the veracity of your story.”
“Don’t give me away, Max! It could be very awkward,” Sir Manga begged, laughing heartily.
“Throw you to the lions to be torn apart limb from limb? Never!” I swore. “But only on the condition that you let me taste some of that dish over there.”
I helped myself to the tiny crumbling pastries in culinary ecstasy.
After breakfast I left the house without waiting for Melifaro to wake up, and wandered about the countryside until I got hungry. I rolled around lazily in the grass, sniffed the flowers, and filled my pockets full of little colored stones. I stared at the clouds in wonder. In short, it was one of the pleasantest days of my entire life.
In the evening I met Melifaro’s mother, whose monumental stature gave away the secret of the giant Baxba’s origins. At the same time she was so beautiful that it took my breath away. Not a human being, but a sculpture; moreover, a vibrant, life-affirming one.
I was surprised at myself. I fell asleep just after midnight like a good boy! And I had a serious motive. That night the little room treated me to another round of magical dreams. And I was worn out after a long day of prancing through the fields and meadows.
Morning began with a race with the wind in the amobiler. I had to deliver Melifaro, who had overslept, to the House by the Bridge in record time. He received no pleasure from the race, as he was in dreamland, blissfully unaware in the back seat. I had a hard time persuading the Diurnal Representative of the Venerable Head not to carry on his engaging pastime in his own office after we finally arrived. Upon my success, I went home to enjoy the advantages of my nocturnal schedule: I crawled under the covers again, back in the company of Armstrong and Ella.
At sunset I reported to the House by the Bridge and was pleasantly surprised. Lady Melamori had already returned, cheerful and ready for new feats of derring-do and renown.
“Well, you’re a sight to behold!” I said from the doorway. “You owe me a walk, my Lady, remember?”
“I remember. Shall we go now? Sir Juffin will let you go.”
“Sure I’ll let you go,” the gloomy voice of the boss resounded through the door to his office, slightly ajar. “I’ll be here till late, anyway.”
“Has something happened?”
“Has something happened? The annual report to the Royal Court happened. In a dozen days this blasted year ends, remember? But in a disaster of this magnitude, you can’t assist me, unfortunately. So enjoy life—but only till midnight.”
I whistled ecstatically—there were still five hours left until midnight, by my calculations. Somehow, things had recently taken a sharp turn for the better. It even made me a bit wary.
“I have just one condition, Sir Max,” Melamori announced as we were about to leave. “No amobilers. I’ve heard frightening tales about your driving.”
“All right,” I agreed. “We’ll go on foot, along crowded, well-lighted streets. When the full moon rises and I start turning into a werewolf, you can call for help. By the way, you can follow the example of Melifaro and drop the ‘Sir’ when you address me. Why stand on ceremony with werewolves?”
Melamori smiled, somewhat taken aback.
“Oh, I can’t simply call you ‘Max.’ I wasn’t raised that way.”
“But I can call you Melamori. Practice for ten minutes or so—and I’ll just be rude for the time being, all right?”
“Of course, Sir Max. You probably think I’m silly, but—actually, your suggestion about a crowded place is just what I had in mind. For the time being.”
“‘For the time being.’ That sounds promising. Onward, my lady!”
We walked very chastely and modestly through the center of Echo. Only I kept having the feeling that something was missing. Then I realized: Melamori didn’t have a bag or a purse that I could offer to carry, to display my chivalry. Nonetheless, at the very end of our sojourn we enjoyed the local version of ice cream in a small artificial garden on the Victory of Gurig VII Square. Thus, the illusion of childhood revisited was complete. I felt I had grown younger by about twenty years, and Lady Melamori, all things considered, by ninety. Our babbling conversation was playful and innocent, until I felt it was proper to touch upon a matter that greatly interested me.
“Melamori, I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time—”
“Don’t, Max! I think I know what you want to ask, dear Sir, uh, yes—”
“Really? I’ll bet a crown that you can’t guess what it is.”
“Can’t guess!” she cried, her voice growing shrill.
I had found the perfect ruse. She was as reluctant to let a wager slip as a habitué at the horse races.
“You wanted to ask why I was afraid of you,” she blurted out. “Hand over the crown!” She blushed with pleasure at this absurd, small victory.
“Take it, my lady,” I plunked down a gold coin on the table where we were sitting. “Shall I wrap it into something, or are you superstitious?”
“Please do. I’m not superstitious, but . . . you never know.”
“Excellent! But I’ll bet ten crowns that you don’t know yourself why you’re afraid.”
“Don’t know? I’m not so crazy as to be afraid of who-knows-what nonsense. It’s just that you, Sir Max, are—I don’t know what you are! And the unknown is the only thing I’m afraid of. You lose, Sir Max. Money on the table! I’ll treat you to something a bit more pricy. Would you like some King’s Sweat?”
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