Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon

Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic

The Stranger (25 page)

BOOK: The Stranger

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I can’t say that Echo is the quietest place in the world in the evening. Even so, it’s unusual for locals to run around in groups of twenty to thirty, dressed only in their underwear and accompanied by their young children and hysterical domestic animals. As far as I know, shrieking so loud that the sound carries above the rooftops is not common, either. But that is precisely what everyone was doing at the moment.

“Juba Chebobargo’s house. It’s that dirty pink chicken shed over there,” said Juffin, pointing.

A barefoot man, whose firm body was only just covered by some pathetic scraps of a ragged tunic, ran out of the building just described to me in such unkind terms. A bright shiny object, too large to be a piece of jewelry, was attached to the hem of the tattered garment. The next instant I noticed that the “object” was alive.

A rat! I thought. Could it really be a rat? Ugh!

I’ve been afraid of rats since childhood. This common phobia even has a long scientific name, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it is.

A moment later I calmed down. I told myself that multicolored rats like that don’t exist in nature. The creature known as a rat has to be the same grayish or dun color, no matter what world it’s in. Besides, this thing had clearly anthropomorphic features.

“It’s a little man!” I shouted happily. “Just a little man! Exactly like the one the girl described!”

The white flame that leaped out of Lonli-Lokli’s left hand consumed the little man completely, leaving not even a pile of ashes. The sturdy fellow in the tattered tunic carried on, frightened but completely unhurt, his pale backside flickering mysteriously in the gathering twilight for the benefit of any incidental fans of male striptease.

“Should I stop him?” asked Shurf.

Juffin shook his head. “It’s not Juba. Let him run around, there’s no harm in that. And what on earth are you so pleased about, Max? Is it something to do with the little man?”

“Not exactly.” I felt myself blushing. “I was just glad it wasn’t . . . a rat.”

“A rat? What’s a rat?”

“You don’t have rats here?”

“I guess not, unless we call them something else. Let’s go see what’s going on inside the house. Sir Shurf, you go first; and you, Max, keep your wits about you. Today doesn’t seem to be your lucky day.”

That day I realized that I truly enjoyed being in the company of Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli. Shurf was a consummate killer. To be standing so close to death, and yet to be certain it won’t touch you, is a unique feeling. It gives you an unfounded but absolute confidence in your own powers. It made my head spin!

In the hallway of the pink chicken coop, my inappropriately buoyant mood hit the skids. Another little tot was smacking his lips and chewing happily as he sat on the stomach of an ample, middle-aged dead man, upon whose innards he was snacking. Lonli-Lokli quickly put an end to this grotesque scene. If it had gone on a second longer, I would have run the risk of parting with the pastries I myself had eaten only a short time before.

“Why, that’s Krelo Shir!” Juffin exclaimed, approaching the mutilated body. “What a shame! I never would have thought Juba could afford such an excellent chef. Poor artist my foot!”

We entered the living room. The scene before us deserved to be sculpted in bronze. The heroic Sir Melifaro, in a cloud of fluttering remnants of a turquoise looxi, was ripping apart a writhing, angry little body with his bare hands. A good ten miniature bodies lay motionless, strewn about like a splendid backdrop to this immortal exploit. I couldn’t help but laugh. Lonli-Lokli shot out of the room like a bullet.

“Was he really that repelled by my laughter?” I asked Juffin in confusion.

Melifaro brandished the beheaded torso, and grinned at the same time. He was probably imagining how this scene must look to an outsider.

“Oh, no, Max, not at all. I simply sent him to go after the others.”

“There’re more?”

“No less than a dozen running about. And Mister Juba made a run for it, too. But I wouldn’t worry about him. Our friend Melamori doesn’t take kindly to men who don’t lavish attention on her,” Melifaro assured me. “She’ll smoke him out wherever he is.”

“Just what are these little freaks? Can you tell me, O slayer of trolls?”

“Why do you call them freaks? They’re sweet, really; take a look!” Melifaro held out a little head that had been separated from its body. I winced. Then I saw that the head was made out of wood. And the face was truly lovely. Sinning Magicians!”

“Is that a doll? The same one you gave Melamori?”

“The same one, or a different one. It doesn’t matter. There were several dozen of the little monsters and they just went mad. When we first arrived they were having a meeting, discussing whether they should kill Juba or swear loyalty to him. He was a sorry sight.”

“Let’s go, fellows,” Juffin said, cutting short our intriguing conversation. “We’re no match for Sir Shurf, but we should each try to make ourselves useful, insofar as our humble abilities will allow us. Where, by the way, is good Sir Shixola? Could he possibly have deserted?”

“Just about! No, just joking. He called for a backup, too, and now he’s heading up the races on the rooftops, in the company of the city police. I hope they’ve managed to catch one or two. Patch me up, will you, Juffin? Jokes aside, I don’t think I’m in very good shape.”

I watched, enchanted, as Sir Juffin Hully stroked Melifaro’s arms, which were covered in tooth marks, with the tips of his fingers. Melifaro winced.

“That’s nothing; my stomach is in a much worse state.”

“Ah-hah!” Sir Juffin’s palms darted to the spot where Melifaro’s bright yellow tunic was darkening with a maroon stain. “Goodness, my boy! It looks like these beasts are crazy about human bellies! Are you still on your feet? Good show! There you go. You’re lucky that these critters can jump so high. A little lower, and even I wouldn’t be able to redeem your personal life.”

“Werewolves take you, Juffin! That’s no occasion for joking!”

“No worse than your jokes. Alright then, let’s go.”

Outside, the apocalypse raged on. A child ran right past me with a shriek. Horrified, I noticed that a tiny figure was prancing right at its heels, emitting a barely audible hissing noise. In the twilight it looked so much like a rat that I had to summon all my courage to perform a deed worthy of renown. Bending over, I grabbed the beast by its fragile leg and, shuddering with fright, smashed the horrid creature on the cobblestones. The doll shattered to bits.

“Is that how you punish disobedient children in the Barren Lands?” asked Melifaro with acerbic admiration. “Let’s go look for some more to finish off. Maybe we’ll get lucky!”

But lucky we were not. No sooner had we started our excursion around the block when we came upon Sir Lonli-Lokli, who looked tired, but absolutely calm. His snow-white looxi was still flawlessly draped.

“That’s that,” he announced. “I told the police to start restoring the peace. There are no dolls left.”

“Are you sure there are no more of them?” I almost asked, but restrained myself in the nick of time. If Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli says something, then it must be true. I should have learned that by now.

“Thank you for your expediency, Sir Shurf. I have been dying for some kamra for an hour and a half now,” Juffin said, and yawned.

“That is just why I made haste, sir.”

If I didn’t know Lonli-Lokli better, I would have sworn that he was teasing. We went back to the amobiler, but on the way a familiar operatic growl caught our attention.

“Crap like that should stay in a pig’s toilet where it belongs! Bull’s tits! You’re going in there, and you’ll eat your own turds until they stop coming out of your skinny little butt!”

“Boboota’s leading the operation?” I asked.

“But of course!” said Juffin. “It’s great publicity, restoring the peace and whatnot. Do you really think he’d miss a good opportunity to go wild? Boboota jumps at the chance to wave his sword around. It’s his only talent, after all. Praise to the Magicians, have my dreams come true? Looks like one of the little monsters managed to bite him!”

“No, sir,” said Lonli-Lokli. “Captain Foofloss arrived along with General Box. Sir Foofloss, as you know, is a very disciplined soldier. If ordered to open fire with a Baboom slingshot, he does it.”

Juffin and Melifaro exchanged glances and guffawed.

“Captain Foofloss is the worst marksman under the sun!” Juffin explained through his laughter. “If he aims for the ground right under him, he shoots into the sky.”

Then he turned to Lonli-Lokli, “So, what happened?”

“Captain Foofloss’ shot ricocheted off the wall and hit General Box. The injury isn’t serious, but it’s liable to cause him a good deal of discomfort. I mean it will be difficult for him to sit down for a while.”

I joined in the mirth with my colleagues.

Finding myself in the driver’s seat of the amobiler, I decided that I, too, needed a bit of kamra. So we drove back even faster than we had on our way here. I’d swear the darned jalopy was about to take off flying. If anyone besides me got pleasure out of the ride, it was Melifaro. In any event, I had to promise that I would reveal the secret of speed to him. As if it was a secret!

All of a sudden I thought, I’m one to laugh at Captain Foofloss! I don’t even know how to shoot a Baboom! In fact, I don’t even know what it is.

Juffin intercepted my inner monologue, and rushed to comfort me.
If you like, we could practice a bit together at the shooting gallery in our free time. But you must keep in mind that we are Secret Investigators, and thus find it beneath our dignity to be involved in such nonsense. And keep your eye on the road, for goodness’ sake!

It was indeed comforting.