The Stranger (52 page)
Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic
At midday we reported to the Chancellory of Minor and Major Inducements, where those who were eager for awards had already gathered. Never in my life have I seen so many cops in one place at the same time, I thought, and could hardly stop from laughing.
Luckily, ever since the irony of fate had wrapped me in the Mantle of Death, I could afford to overstep the protocol of almost any official ceremony. In the House by the Bridge I was granted almost everything my heart desired. Who cared about the trembling subordinates of General Boboota Box, and their boss, grunting and groaning under the weight of his own significance?
Actually, today Boboota was somewhat subdued. I recalled that it had been a while since I’d heard his refined soliloquies, redolent with a thorough knowledge of the techniques of defecation. Most likely the pre-holiday commotion had put a damper even on the brave General of the Police.
Finally, the corpulent and amiable Sir Kumbra handed me the generic Royal Trinket Box and I went home. For one thing, I had had only the smallest nip of the reviving tonic: these things must be saved for the appropriate occasion. And for another thing, the cats were waiting for me. The poor things were somewhat overwhelmed by their recent close confinement with Sir Melifaro. They, too, deserved some rewards and comfort.
“Max!” Juffin’s voice reached me just as I was on my way out. I turned around.
“Something else?”
“Yes. You still have an unfulfilled promise hanging over you. You should take care of it before the New Year.”
“What promise is that?” I had no idea what he was talking about.
“The last time you were at my house you promised Chuff you would visit him soon.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“It’s a reminder. If my company hasn’t become irksome to you, just know that I’ll be home by sunset, and not a minute later. I don’t think anyone has to sit at the Ministry tonight. Kurush can manage without you until midnight, in any case, especially since there will probably be nothing to manage.”
“Thank you. Of course I’ll come. I’ll eat everything that’s put on the table. And then I’ll go rummage around in the closets.”
“I don’t doubt it. All right, go get some shuteye.”
Armstrong and Ella greeted me with petulant meowing. As a consequence of Melifaro’s deep sleep, they had received their breakfast several hours later than usual over the past few days, and they didn’t intend to welcome the innovation.
“That’s all over, my little furries,” I reassured them, filling their bowls. “Everything’s back to normal now.”
Curiosity proved to be stronger than weariness. Before I fell asleep, I opened the Royal Trinket Box to see what was inside. Not a hundred days had passed since I had tried to open just such a box. Now I did it almost mechanically. Hmm, yes. Magic of the fourth degree we had already mastered, and much else, besides, a hole in the heavens above!
This time I had received a surprisingly beautiful little medallion made of white steel, which is prized far more highly than gold in this World that lacks precious metals. On the medallion was the likeness of a fat, peculiar-looking, but very appealing little creature. Peering closely at it, I gleaned that the unknown artist had tried to depict Armstrong (or Ella, his nearly identical other half).
Three hours of sleep was more than enough. Even a tiny drop of Elixir of Kaxar can do wonders, it seems. In my joy, I straightened up the house, cleaned up after the cats, and even shaved. Then I sat in the living room, filling my pipe with the local tobacco, the taste of which I had never been able to get used to. But the ritual of fiddling with the pipe is itself one of the true pleasures of domestic leisure.
At sundown, I carefully packed myself into the amobiler and set out for the other side of the Xuron, to the quiet and respectable Left Bank. I drove through completely empty streets. Restaurant proprietors were peacefully nodding off in the doorways of their establishments, not really hoping to take in any profits that night. Birds wandered about on the mosaic pavements. The residents of Echo were resting from the cares of the year gone by. There was no trace of noisy celebration, only the deep, unbroken slumber for which the capital had so desperately longed.
Juffin opened the door for me himself. Kimpa, his butler, had gone to sleep right after he had laid the table. Our eagerness to stay up and talk had no doubt struck him as the height of eccentricity.
The first thing I did was embrace Chuff, who was practically swooning in ecstasy. The little dog licked my nose carefully, and then started in on my ear. I prefer other modes of washing, but I vowed to enjoy this one.
“I’ve come bearing no gifts,” I apologized, sitting down in a comfortable chair. “You know how thrifty I am. But I think I can find something for you, little fellow.”
I unwrapped a small parcel. Inside were Chuff’s (and my own) favorite cookies from the
Hunchback Itullo
, delicious beyond description, and just as pricey. Sir Juffin Hully claims that making this delicacy without resorting to forbidden degrees of magic is nearly impossible. Be that as it may, the chef there is above suspicion. They inspect him every dozen days, and no trace of mischief is ever found.
Hunchback Itullo
, delicious beyond description, and just as pricey. Sir Juffin Hully claims that making this delicacy without resorting to forbidden degrees of magic is nearly impossible. Be that as it may, the chef there is above suspicion. They inspect him every dozen days, and no trace of mischief is ever found.
That’s what true culinary talent is—the lack of which, in yours truly, we were bemoaning only that morning.
Max is good.
Chuff is fluent in Silent Speech. Better than I am.
Chuff is fluent in Silent Speech. Better than I am.
“Did you squander your whole life’s savings on those cookies?” Juffin asked.
“Only half of it. The other half I squandered, as you put it, on this.” And with the dramatic flourish of a seasoned conjuror, I gave my left hand a shake, and a small, pot-bellied bottle of dark glass appeared on the table.
“You’re lying about the cost. These things can’t be bought or sold,” said Juffin in rapture. “Is it possible that Melamori is sharing again? I thought that she had broken your heart; but it seems to have been a well-laid plan. You’re a genius, Max! You discovered the only foolproof way of filching wine from the cellars of the Seven-Leaf Clover. Very practical! I’m impressed.”
“Do you think that she would filch something from her uncle to give to me, as if to a bosom buddy? No way. We just had a bet, and I won hands down.”
“You were betting?”
“Well, yes. She loves taking a gamble. But you must be aware of this.”
“I never attached any significance to it. What was the bet?”
“I told her I could talk to General Boboota for fifteen minutes without him using the words
butt
,
crap
, and
gaseous expulsions
, as it were. She didn’t believe it was possible. Then I went to Boboota and began discussing the latest news. As you can imagine, he listened, snorted, and nodded his head. In the privacy of his own thoughts he probably cursed me a thousand times. I simply took advantage of the situation. Melamori hadn’t been around for a few days and wasn’t aware that relations between me and Boboota had taken a new turn.”
butt
,
crap
, and
gaseous expulsions
, as it were. She didn’t believe it was possible. Then I went to Boboota and began discussing the latest news. As you can imagine, he listened, snorted, and nodded his head. In the privacy of his own thoughts he probably cursed me a thousand times. I simply took advantage of the situation. Melamori hadn’t been around for a few days and wasn’t aware that relations between me and Boboota had taken a new turn.”
“I heard about it, though. Some say he’s developed a nervous tic. Whenever Boboota begins to express the fruits of his contemplation out loud, he keeps glancing around furtively to see if you’re anywhere nearby. Gosh, Max, I never expected you could make me so happy!”
“There might have been an easier way—just hire some werewolf.”
“Life has proven that you are far more terrifying. So you won the bet?”
“There’s the evidence,” I said, nodding at the bottle. “
Dark Essence
, one of the best varieties, according to Melamori. She said that it was a fair exchange.”
Dark Essence
, one of the best varieties, according to Melamori. She said that it was a fair exchange.”
“The girl is absolutely right, on both counts. You surprise me, Max. Wines like this are meant to be drunk in solitude, behind locked doors in a distant room, so that an evil wind doesn’t blow your best friends over on an inopportune visit.”
“And I’m sucking up to you. I gather that in your cellar you keep not only the skinned hides of magicians, but also a couple cases of Elixir of Kaxar.”
“Why should I store it away? I can make that stuff myself! It’s not forbidden to disregard the Code in the interests of the Crown. Grand Magician Nuflin Moni Mak thinks the same.”
“All the more. I share those views completely. It’s too bad I’ll never learn how to make it myself.”
“No, you probably won’t. You can’t even learn to make kamra, poor boy,” Sir Juffin Hully seemed to feel truly sorry for me.
“I have to have at least one fault,” I consoled my long-suffering teacher, and pushed the bottle of
Dark Essence
toward him.
Dark Essence
toward him.
By the time I got back to the office, I felt more like a human food vendor cart than a human being. I needed to stretch my legs and wiggle my toes.
Despite Sir Juffin Hully’s optimistic prognosis of a quiet night ahead of me, a matter awaited that wasn’t exactly business as usual. In the Chair of Despond in the Hall of Common Labor, a charming, middle-aged lady, wearing an expensive looxi that she had pulled on right over her everyday skaba, was wailing and keening. The damsel was in that stage of shock when incoherent mumbling is over, but the gift of speech has yet to return. For that reason I didn’t dispute the citizens’ right of our guest to quiet moaning, but obeyed some latent instinct and handed her the mug of kamra I had tried to make myself earlier. I decided that such liquid muck would restore her emotional equilibrium no worse than smelling salts—which, by the way, are prohibited here as magic of the third degree.
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