The Stranger (99 page)
Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic
“Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t stand that darn-fool word ‘why’? Try using it a little less often. Or, better yet, drop it altogether. At least when you’re talking to me. ‘Why’ isn’t the right way of putting the question when you’re talking about creating a new World. Everything that’s truly interesting and worthwhile exists somewhere beyond the realm of cause and effect.”
Mackie tossed his head angrily, and methodically lit his short, oddly shaped pipe. Then he smiled under his mustache and went on, his tone much gentler now.
“Worlds, both inhabited and deserted, are far more numerous than you’re able to imagine. But we have to do something, you and I, don’t we? And then, who knows, maybe it’ll turn out better for us than it has thus far for others. Not a bad reason either, is it? Is that enough for you?”
“To be honest, no.”
“Well, ask Juffin sometime. There’s one who never objected to the word ‘why.’ On the contrary, he always loved to explain the reasons behind his own and others’ actions. And it’s easier for you two to communicate—you’re almost the same age.”
“The same age!”
“Well, compared to me, anyway. I can’t even remember how long I’ve been knocking about the World. It’s like I just got lost here at some point and then decided to stay. Though I’m not at all sure that’s really how it was.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“All my life I wanted to live forever. Let others die, I thought, but I’ll hold out, somehow. And now you’ve given me hope.”
“Hope is a darn-fool feeling,” Sir Mackie said sternly, tossing his head again. “It’s best not to hope for anything, that’s my advice to you. Well now, let’s drop these serious matters. I have something else to discuss with you. From what I hear, your companion doesn’t know about any of this?”
“That’s something I wanted to ask you. Poor Lonli-Lokli couldn’t get beyond the city gates. When he tried it made him feel sick and uncomfortable. I wanted to let him know about my city in the mountains. He saw my dream, too, one time. Why should I have to hide something like that from Shurf? Besides, he’s good at keeping secrets.”
“I’m not the one you should be asking,” Mackie said, smiling. “A newborn World is always very capricious. They have their own idiosyncrasies. Take Juffin, for example. It never wants him to get too close to it. Why might that be? No idea. Though if anyone should know, it’s me. Honestly, I don’t have a lot to say in the matter. Maybe later, at home, your friend can hear the whole story without even wincing. I think that’s how it’s likely to unfold. But I do have a request that’s more for your friend than for you. Alas, I’m unable to invite him here.”
“A request?” I asked, surprised. “You have a request for Lonli-Lokli?”
“Yes. That comes as a surprise to you?”
“Of course it does. I didn’t think there was anything you lacked or couldn’t take care of yourself.”
“Well, to be honest, it’s not that I can’t take care of it myself, but that I don’t want to. I’m lazy, you know. And then, this matter will be quite intriguing for your friend, you’ll see. As far as the caprices of newborn Worlds are concerned, what they’re always ready to indulge is any kind of culprit or evil spirit. Not long ago, a gentleman showed up in these parts—someone I didn’t take a liking to at all. Not that he’s all that dangerous for the locals, but it’s unpleasant for me to have to be aware of his constant presence.”
“Another Mutinous Magician?”
“Worse, Max. A Dead Magician. Believe me, there’s no evil spirit more restless than a Grand Magician killed unjustly. And your friend is an expert in such matters, as I understand it.”
“You got that right.” I smiled. “He’ll take care of him in no time.”
“Well, I don’t know about ‘in no time’—I think you’re being a bit hasty there. But he’ll take care of him, I’m pretty sure. Just tell your companion that Kiba Attsax is on the loose. That’ll be enough, you’ll see.”
“Sure, I’ll tell him. Is that all?”
“You can also say it’s a big problem, that in Kettari things were just fine till that ornery varmint came around. That claim is very close to the truth, and a person should always be sure he’s doing something important. It’s more pleasant that way, and things will progress better.” He rose from his chair. “Well, I’d say you’ve had enough of my company for one day. Last time it was a bit too much for you, wasn’t it? Did it take long for you to recover?”
“Twenty gallons of cold water on my poor crazy head. The secret cure of Sir Maba of Echo, or Magicians only know where he’s from. Seriously, Mackie—I almost went totally bonkers! Maybe you’ve got a better cure?”
“A long walk. But it’s even better to busy yourself with something completely meaningless. Doesn’t matter what. Read a book. Play cards with someone. The main thing is not to sit in one place, and not to try to reason it all out. Nothing will come of it, no matter how hard you try. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said. “Well, I’ll think of something. By the way, you don’t happen to know the name of that city? My city in the mountains, I mean?”
“No idea. You should have asked the people who live there. G’night, partner!”
“Good night, Mackie. I’m off to do something meaningless, as you suggest. That’s what I do best.”
I left the
Down Home Diner
with fairly firm plans for the night ahead. For one thing, I was determined not to lose my mind. And I liked Mackie’s idea about taking up cards. I reckoned it would give me a chance not only to pass the time pleasantly, but also to improve Shurf’s and my financial situation.
Down Home Diner
with fairly firm plans for the night ahead. For one thing, I was determined not to lose my mind. And I liked Mackie’s idea about taking up cards. I reckoned it would give me a chance not only to pass the time pleasantly, but also to improve Shurf’s and my financial situation.
It was a fairly casual proposition, but not a groundless one—I could play a mean game of Krak. Sir Juffin Hully himself had taught me to kill time that way. And he was the luckiest card player in the Unified Kingdom.
Then some hundred-odd years ago, the late Gurig VII issued a special proclamation that prohibited Sir Juffin from playing Krak in public places. The old King was forced to take this measure after the fortunes of several dozen of his courtiers migrated into the pockets of the enterprising Kettarian. Juffin, by the way, didn’t object. There was no one left who could keep him company at the card table, and the unprecedented Royal Proclamation flattered him no end.
With me, Juffin played purely for pleasure, of course, since this took place at the time I was still financially dependent on him. Anyway, the first day, after a dozen embarrassing losses, I won two games against Sir Juffin Hully. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The next evening, we continued playing. Our luck fluctuated. I still lost more often than my experienced teacher. But, in Juffin’s words, even that was highly improbable.
I should note that I myself saw nothing improbable in it. Already as a child, I had concluded that a great deal depends on who teaches you to play a game. It doesn’t really have anything to do with pedagogical gifts—you just need to learn from a lucky player. If you do, in addition to getting useful information about the rules of the game, some of your teacher’s luck will rub off on you, too.
For this small discovery, I had my unusual lifestyle to thank—rich in nighttime pursuits and friends, lucky and not-so-lucky, who managed to teach me every card game known to man.
So I had the opportunity to compare, and then draw my conclusion. When I proudly announced this conclusion to Juffin, he nodded absently, which could very easily have passed for agreement.
In any case, I had nothing to lose except one crown and a few bits of loose change, the entire paltry fortune that remained to me and Lonli-Lokli. If I lost, it wouldn’t be a great disaster. Otherwise I would just end up spending these riches in the first diner I came across, on some junk like the local liqueur—the mere thought of which, frankly speaking, turned my stomach.
I headed resolutely in the direction of Cheerful Square. I had no doubt about what the customers at the Country Home were doing at the spacious bar at the back of the main dining hall. I had a reliable witness—Sir Lonli-Lokli, who had lost his shirt.
There was one hitch in this whole affair. I hate playing with strangers. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but it seems I am really quite shy. But no one could help me there. And anything was better than sitting in the living room, watching poor Max lose his mind. A few trivial problems might make you forget about your one and only true problem. I crossed the brightly lighted dining hall of the Country Home and headed straight for the bar, plunged in semidarkness, where I found the epicenter of Kettarian card-playing society, just as I had predicted.
I sat down on a barstool, and without much deliberation ordered some Jubatic Juice. This was a tried and true beverage. In sufficient quantities, not only would it cure me of shyness, I wouldn’t even hesitate to sit, lost in thought, in a glass bathroom in the middle of the city’s central square after imbibing enough of it. For a while I wondered, would it be too dramatic to light up a cigarette without leaving my seat in the middle of the hall? Lonli-Lokli was at home asleep, and there was no one to keep an eye on me.
Finally, I decided that the more exotic I looked, the better. The sooner the locals understood I was a simple alien dork, the better were my chances of being invited to join in their sordid doings. A big gulp of Jubatic Juice gave me courage in my reckless, but essentially judicious, decision.
I waved aside all my qualms and lit up. If only poor Sir Kofa, the unsurpassed master of masquerade, could see me now! After all his efforts, here I was sitting in the middle of Kettari with my own inelegant face and unkempt hair, smoking something that doesn’t even exist in this World, and planning to drink some courage and fraternize with the locals! But whom did I need to hide from in this nonexistent city, in this heart of a new World—a World, moreover, that I myself was helping to create? It was crazy, but it made sense. So I finished my cigarette with great enjoyment, took a few more swigs from my huge glass, and reached demonstratively for the yellowish-gold, already half-empty, pack.
“Well, you seem to be rather bored, sir,” someone behind me observed politely.
“I can’t tell you how bored I am. Since the moment I arrived in Kettari I’ve been dying of it.”
I almost laughed out loud at my own awkward fabrication, as I turned to face the person who had addressed me.
Well, what a surprise! It was an old acquaintance of mine, Mr. Abora Vala, our Master Caravan Leader in the flesh. He didn’t recognize me, of course. Lady Marilyn, the most beloved of the fictitious wives of that passionate gambler Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, was the one who had traveled in his caravan.
The fellow studied my face curiously.
“Have you been suffering from boredom in Kettari for a long time already?” he asked casually.
“Five days or so, why?”
“Oh, no reason. I just know most of the visitors to Kettari by face, and yours is unfamiliar.”
“It would be strange if it were familiar to you. I arrived here to visit my aunt five days ago, as I’ve already said. And she didn’t consider it proper to end the dinner celebration for my arrival until half an hour ago. She went to sleep it off; then she’ll start preparing another feast for my departure, I’m sure. That’s why today is the first day I’ve ventured outside in the five blasted days since I arrived!”
In my mind I gave myself an A for quick-wittedness, thought a bit, then added a “plus.”
“Ah, that explains it,” my new-old friend nodded. “I’m acquainted, you see, with the visitors who arrive in Kettari on my caravan. And your aunt, I presume, met you herself?”
“Yes, she sent her sonny boy to some roadside tavern to pick me up. The blockhead is already about two hundred years old, but he’s still a mama’s boy. Can you beat that?”
“Yes, that’s the way it is sometimes,” the gray-haired gentleman agreed politely. “It sounds like you’re sick and tired of your relatives?”
I nodded mournfully. By that time, I had so warmed up to my role that I began sincerely to hate my hypothetical silly aunt and her hypothetical dimwit of a son, my cousin.
“Would you like some diversion?” he asked innocently. “Excuse me for being so forward, but that’s our custom around here. My friends have been enjoying their game for an hour, and I have no partner. We’re not playing for high stakes, so you won’t be risking your fortune.”
You’re darn straight I won’t, I thought maliciously. A certain cheerful and overzealous fellow already had.
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