Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic
The Stranger (72 page)
“Juffin, what do I need with your mysteries? I have enough of my own to solve,” Sir Kofa said with a sly grin, and shut the door behind him.
“You sent him away, because—” I ventured cautiously.
“Yes, yes. Don’t ask foolish questions. Practicing True Magic in the presence of strangers—well, Sir Maba Kalox might be able to permit himself such luxuries, but I can’t. Nor can you. And without True Magic we’ll end up killing our brave captain. That would be unjust, for one thing. And for another, he can tell us a thing or two. For the time being, just watch me, Max; we never know how something will pan out when you’re involved. If you sense that you can help me in some way—be my guest. If not, don’t try to show off.”
Juffin sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and began tapping lightly and rhythmically with his fingertips—not on the mother-of-pearl belt, but in the air. His fingers stopped just fractions of an inch away from the belt. His movements were mesmerizing, and I seemed to doze off in spite of the obvious importance of what was transpiring.
I slept and I dreamed that I was Captain Giatta. I felt rotten, since I knew what was going to happen. This queer old fellow, the Honorable Head of something or other, wanted to help me. But I knew only too well that all he had to do was touch the Belt (in my own mind it had now become a belt with a capital B)—all he had to do was to touch it with the aim of taking it away, and I would die. And my death would be worse than death. It would be an infinitely long and tormenting demise.
“Juffin!” I cried, hardly able to get my tongue around the word, so drowsy was I. “Don’t do it! We’ll end up killing him, no matter how you go about it. It’s something I know.”
“You’re not the one who knows it, Max.” Juffin countered calmly. “It’s Captain Giatta who knows. But he only knows what they told him. Consequently, it might not be true. Take it easy. Don’t allow your empathy to distract you. That can be dangerous.”
And Juffin’s hands finally touched the belt.
A dark wave of pain enveloped my head. It wasn’t simply pain, it was death. What imbecile said that death is a soothing balm? Death is nauseating helplessness and infinite physical pain, gnawing the body into tiny pieces with the voracious teeth of oblivion. In any case, that’s what the death of Captain Giatta was like.
But I’m not Captain Giatta, thought someone next to me. No, not “someone,” of course. That was me doing the thinking, me, Max, a living being, not one of the rough, sinewy scraps of the body of the unfortunate Tasherian captain. Realizing this bare fact held out the promise of salvation.
The alien sensations subsided, and my own returned to me slowly and solemnly, like lazy dancers to Ravel’s
Bolero.
To see, to breathe, to feel the hard seat of the chair with my own backside—it was wonderful! My clothes were wet through, but even that seemed like something miraculous. I thought of the ridiculous local saying “The dead don’t sweat,” and smiled.
Bolero.
To see, to breathe, to feel the hard seat of the chair with my own backside—it was wonderful! My clothes were wet through, but even that seemed like something miraculous. I thought of the ridiculous local saying “The dead don’t sweat,” and smiled.
Juffin got up from his crouching position and looked at me in amazement. The cursed mother-of-pearl belt flopped onto the carpet.
“Everything all right, Max?”
“I’m checking. And the captain? Is he dead?”
“No. You saved him, boy.”
“Saved him? Me? Sinning Magicians, how could I have done that?”
“You took on half of his pain for your own. A strong person is quite capable of surviving half of it. I’ve never seen anything so strange—the belt itself was
pretending
, Max. It was putting on an act, like a regular cunning human being. And when I had ascertained that it was already harmless—well, you now know it all.”
pretending
, Max. It was putting on an act, like a regular cunning human being. And when I had ascertained that it was already harmless—well, you now know it all.”
I nodded, exhausted. My head was spinning, and it wasn’t so much that the world seemed to be receding from me as that it was trembling like jello. Juffin’s voice seemed to reach me from someplace very far away.
“Come on. Take a gulp of your favorite potion.”
Juffin poured some Elixir of Kaxar into my mouth. That meant I would be in tiptop shape in no time. Soon the world did stopped quivering, although I still didn’t experience my usual buoyancy.
“You both underwent the same thing, but it will no doubt be some time before the captain begins to function normally again,” Juffin observed. “Never mind, we’ll turn him over to Sir Abilat now. You’ll see, by morning he will have recovered. I think everything will be much easier when our brave captain begins to talk. By the way, Max, now you can imagine what the effects are when some daredevil begins casting spells while wearing the Earring of Oxalla. Do you remember asking why they were afraid? Well, there’s no better answer to your own question than personal experience. Well done, Max!”
“I didn’t do anything. I’m a victim of circumstance,” I sighed. “I had no choice about whether I wanted to save the poor bloke or not. Now if I had really done all of that of my own free will—”
“That’s just fruitless sophistry,” Juffin declared dismissively, with a wave of his hand. “If you did it, you did it. That’s what matters. You don’t really have to know exactly what you’re doing or why. You did it because you could. And that’s why I say you’ve done well. Am I making myself clear?”
“Clear enough. Give me some more Elixir, or you’ll be seeing the corpse of the great hero by dinnertime. You can add it to your stew of dried Magicians.”
“Take it, but don’t get carried away,” Juffin handed me the bottle. “Listen, you probably haven’t heard the news yet. Now you can buy this potion in any store, since magic of the eighth degree is all you need to brew it. It didn’t occur to me to tell you before.”
“Now I’ll never die,” I said with a blissful smile. “No one’s going to wipe me off the face of the earth. Finally, my life has a meaning! I’ll drink a bottle of Elixir a day, and reach enlightenment.”
“That sounds like our good old Max,” Juffin announced happily. “Just a moment ago there was some pale, washed-out shadow in our midst . . . Still, I think you ought to rest. Go home, try to sleep, or at least just lounge around for a while. We’ll manage until morning.”
“Go away at the most interesting moment? Do you take me for a fool?”
“There won’t be any more surprises tonight, Max. Kofa and I will sniff out what we can, and we’ll wait till Captain Giatta wakes up. I’ve already dismissed Melamori for the day, and Lonli-Lokli is heading for home right after the investigation at the port. I’ll let Melifaro go, too, as soon as he tells me the name of our deceased friend. You, Max, would be getting at least a dozen Days of Freedom from Care if it weren’t for this blasted case. So, homeward, march! That’s an order. Can you stand up?”
“After three slugs of Elixir? I could do a jig!” I said.
I stood up—then collapsed in a heap on the floor. My legs knew what they were supposed to do, but they refused to obey.
“I suspected as much,” Juffin sighed. “Well, let me give you a hand.”
“Strange, I felt fine until I tried to stand up,” I said, leaning on his shoulder. “Now I feel more like a bag of potatoes than a human being.”
“Never mind, it will pass,” the boss said, trying to console me. “By morning you’ll be as right as rain. Be here by noon, all right?”
“Of course! I can be here even earlier.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m no good as a nurse. I hate looking after invalids.”
Juffin stuffed me in the back seat of the official amobiler, relieved to get me off his hands. And home I went.
I was able to get out of the amobiler on my own devices and made it to my living room without too much effort. Things weren’t going badly, all things considered. After a while, I sent a call to the
Sated Skeleton
. I had just managed to hobble to the bathroom when the delivery boy arrived, so I had to turn around and go back. My rate of progress was nothing to brag about.
Sated Skeleton
. I had just managed to hobble to the bathroom when the delivery boy arrived, so I had to turn around and go back. My rate of progress was nothing to brag about.
I stripped off my clothes, still damp with sweat, splashed around in the water, and then had something to eat. An hour later I felt much better. My exhaustion gradually turned into a pleasant fatigue, so I crawled into bed. I fell asleep before midnight. Some night owl I was!
My sweet dream visited me afresh. Melamori appeared at the window, paused, then started to approach. I tried to move, but as always in these marvelous dreams, I could only just raise myself off my pillow. Melamori came still closer, and sat down beside me. I lifted my hand and tried to embrace my vision. The vision didn’t protest.
I still don’t know whether it was the unpleasant recent events that were to blame, or whether the hefty portion of Elixir of Kaxar had given me unprecedented strength. This time, though, my heavy, unwieldy body, and she who was the cause of my grief, both obeyed me. When the vision of Melamori was finally under my blanket, I mentally congratulated myself on my victory.
Then something happened that couldn’t be explained by any stretch of the imagination. I got scratched. I actually got scratched; and the culprit was the sharp edge of a medallion adorning the lovely chest of my wondrous vision. For a moment, I stared bewildered at the tiny droplet of blood on my palm. Then I woke up. At that very instant, I received a monstrous jab in the belly.
“That was . . . that was worse than swinish, Max!” Melamori shrieked—a flesh and blood Melamori, who was drawing her elegant little foot up for the next attack.
The lady was aiming for the place that should never be targeted under any circumstances. Without even thinking, I grabbed hold of her bare foot, and yanked with all my might. Melamori collapsed onto the floor, curled up into a ball, and rolled into the far corner of the bedroom.
“You did cast a spell after all!” she hissed. “I asked you not to, but you had to bare your fangs and do it anyway! You’re worse than the ancient Magicians! At least they didn’t lie when they performed their malicious tricks!”
“I didn’t lie to you!” I said with the equanimity of absolute shock. “Don’t you see I’m just as surprised as you are? I didn’t really do anything unusual. I just dreamed about you, and I felt glad that I did. I don’t see that there’s any reason for a brawl. You should be glad that miracles—”
“I don’t need any of your filthy miracles!” Melamori snapped.
I was astonished at how much venom could fit into such a small lady.
“No sniveling vampire would dare force me to do such a thing! It’s disgusting! To go to sleep in your own home and wake up in someone else’s bed. In the bed of some creature who doesn’t even deserve to be called human. It’s outrageous! You make me sick, Max! Do you know what I’m going to do now? I’m going to the Quarter of Trysts. At least there I’ll be able to meet a real live man and forget about this nightmare. I’d kill you if I could! You’re lucky that I can only kill humans!”
Slowly, my blood began to boil. When someone dumps so much rubbish on you all at once, no amount of breathing exercises promoted by Lonli-Lokli will do any good.
“Fury! Shrew!” I bellowed. “Coward! Go find some weakling whose head you can turn with your pathetic wiles! You need a man you can kill at the drop of a hat! ‘Get on his trail’ and it’s all up with him! I’m telling you, there was no spell! It was a wonder—a mi-ra-cle!”
“You dare say that to me, after all you’ve done?” Melamori asked, her voice tight with rage.
“I’ve done? I didn’t do anything. I just went to bed, closed my eyes, and dreamed about you. That’s the extent of my ‘magic.’ If you don’t believe me—fine! Suit yourself.”
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