The Stranger's Magic: The Labyrinths of Echo: Book Three (12 page)

Then Shurf returned to his ivory tower, trusty Kimpa came to pick up Juffin, and Sir Kofa Yox sent me a call, saying he would come to the House by the Bridge in a few minutes.

It wasn’t necessary for me to wait for Kofa and I could have gone home right away if I had wanted to. The idea didn’t really appeal to me, however: I had just tried to send a call to
Tekki and found out she was fast asleep. I, on the other hand, was wide awake. Maybe later, when it was almost morning, I would be able to close my eyes and catch a few winks, but not now.

My recent skirmish with Lonli-Lokli had done more damage to me than I had previously thought while I still had my favorite sedative, in the form of the omnipotent Sir Juffin Hully, by my side. I
had to admit that I was only eager to go look for that wicked genius Gugimagon because it was not a bad way of distracting myself from my personal problems and anxieties.

“Good night,” said Sir Kofa, entering the office. I looked up at him and saw a face with thick, bushy eyebrows rapidly becoming
Kofa’s own. “You’re still here, boy? And what kinds of werewolves, pray tell, are you contemplating at the bottom of your empty cup?”

“I could use a full cup right now—you’re spot on—and that’s easy enough to fix. Sit down and help yourself to anything you can find. If there’s something you
can’t find, we can take care of it in no time, praise be Dondi Melixis, who has been paying our bills from Madam Zizinda’s place.”

“I always knew that your working methods were something else,” said Sir Kofa.

“Thanks to you. You were the one who taught me that one should spend one’s office hours in taverns at the company’s expense. Now you can sit back and admire the results of your
labors. You have the right.”

And we sent a small order to the Glutton Bunba. The capacity of my stomach was staggering. Today I had started munching at dawn and had hardly stopped munching since, except for that brief
intermission when I had waged a little war against my friend Lonli-Lokli and flown hither and yon above the spiked roofs of Echo.

I was finally able to appreciate the comic side ofmy recent adventures—it was about time, too—and laughed in relief. For that reason Sir Kofa was privileged to hear my narration of
the evening’s events in the genre of black comedy rather than Shakespearian tragedy. Thank goodness at least someone derived some real pleasure from the story.

“Okay,” he said when he stopped laughing, “you have convinced me that you had a great deal of fun. Now you only need to convince yourself of the same thing.”

“Yeah, that’s not as easy as it may sound,” I said. “Not to worry, though. Tomorrow I’ll be as good as new.”

“Tomorrow? Of course. Tomorrow you’re having a different kind of adventure. But you like change, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” I said. “Usually it takes the form of a rapid change in my decision about which tavern to while away my evening in.”

“I think you’ll find tomorrow’s event more than amusing,” said Kofa. “The guests alone will be worth it.”

“You mean my subjects? Actually, ever since I taught them to tie their headbands the right way, they haven’t looked half bad.”

“Well, to each his own, of course, but I didn’t mean your subjects. I meant the grandees from our provinces. You’re in for a sea of pleasure.”

“Are they really funny?” I said.

“Oh, yes. Each in his own way. Besides, His Indefatigable Majesty Gurig VIII has invited almost every foreign ambassador who happens to be in Echo at the moment.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Why do they ‘happen to be’ here? Aren’t there always ambassadors in the Capital of the Unified Kingdom?”

“No. Why?” said Kofa. “We don’t need them here. That’s actually not a very good idea, Max. It’s bad enough that they bring their backsides to Echo every time
they want something from us. Then again, they always want something from us.”

“I see. Tell me about our ‘grandees,’ Kofa,” I said. “I don’t feel sleepy, and I desire to be entertained.”

“Telling won’t do them justice. You need to see them. And tomorrow you will. Well, you’ve already heard about your notorious ‘fellow countryman,’ I
presume?”

“Count Gachillo Vook? Sir Dark Sack? Of course. But frankly, I don’t know much about him. I’ve heard that he got pretty bored in his castle and got all excited when he heard
he’d have me as a neighbor. Fortunately, his hopes were all in vain. Oh, and I also heard that he’s a fierce warrior. One heck of a miscreant.”

“Very true. By the way, the old Count Gachillo taught the art of war to the late father of our king. The Dark Sack can easily take half the credit for the epic hundred-year war, with the
Battle for the Code as the grand finale, whatever Grand Magician Nuflin Moni Mak thinks about it.”

“Why is he called Dark Sack, by the way?”

“Oh, there’s a whole story behind it. Count Gachillo abides by two firm principles. Number one is that he should always travel light. Number two is that it’s beneath his
dignity to lack the most necessary things when traveling away from home. Since old Gachillo is a decent magician, especially considering that he was born far, far away from Uguland, the count found
a simple way of reconciling these two contradictory principles. He simply cast a dozen spells on his old traveling bag. Since then, he’s always come to the Capital with no luggage whatsoever
except the empty traveling bag strapped to the saddle of his antlered steed. Whatever he needs he can produce from the bag—everything from an outfit for a festive occasion to an army of loyal
vassals in full regalia. Hence the name Dark Sack. As far as I know, Count Gachillo is very fond of his nickname.”

“How ingenious!” I said. “I should make friends with him. Better yet, I should become his apprentice. I completely and wholeheartedly share his two firm principles. All your
stuff in one bag—what could be better than that?”

“See? And you didn’t want to become the ruler of the Barren Lands.”

“I’d rather Count Gachillo ruled them,” I said. “I’m sure he’d feel right in his element.”

“You underestimate your own people, Max,” said Kofa. “Your subjects would rather die than be subjugated to some ‘barbarian,’ as they call anyone who wasn’t
blessed with having produced his first cry in the boundless steppes of the Lands of Fanghaxra. And the ‘rather die’ part is something Count Gachillo would love to do for them.
He’s very eager to wield his sword, given the opportunity. Believe me.”

“I believe you,” I said. Suddenly I yawned, taking myself quite by surprise.

“Are you ready to have some quality time with a pillow?” said Kofa. “Good. Tomorrow’s going to be a difficult day for you.”

“Not the whole day, though, just the evening, praise be the Magicians. The fun doesn’t start until almost dusk. Still, I just realized that my pillow is one in a million. I think
I’m going to go cuddle with it. Thank you, Kofa. You’ve set me up on my feet again.”

“Knocked you off your feet, rather. Then again, it was just what you needed, wasn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” I said, getting up and yawning again. “If there’s a hue and cry about an official amobiler being stolen in the morning, know that I’m the culprit.
That wicked Lonli-Lokli destroyed mine, and all the stores are already closed. Good night to you, Kofa.”

“And good night to you, too,” said our Master Eavesdropper.

I sincerely hoped that his words would come true.

And come true they did. As soon as I found myself in Tekki’s cozy bedroom, where she was snoozing happily, I got under the blanket and fell fast asleep, and my dreams resembled a
documentary on the Garden of Eden. So I slept soundly all the way through to lunch—who could say if there would ever be a rerun?

Waking up was pleasant, too. Tekki was magnanimous enough to leave a small burner with a jug of kamra by the head of the bed. She herself was nowhere to be found. She had probably buried her
head in the morning issue of the Echo Hustle and Bustle behind the bar. I sent her a call to thank her.

Don’t mention it, baby. I’m just trying to get used to my new role as king’s concubine, she replied.

Will you come up?

I’m sorry, I’ve got customers, and the help is nowhere to be found.
It’s all my fault: I told her she could come in late today. So make yourself presentable and come down.

Anything you say, ma’am.

And slowly, one step at a time, I made my way to the bathroom, where I dipped myself in each of the eight bathing pools. Then I donned my black-and-gold Mantle of Death and proceeded to the
first floor of the house, the Armstrong & Ella tavern.

Indeed, there actually were a few customers there. Their haggard faces discouraged morning chitchat, to put it mildly. But there, on a barstool, sat my old friend Anday Pu. I still hadn’t
gotten him his longed-for ticket to Tasher. To my utter surprise, he was drinking kamra. For as long as I had studied his habits, he had preferred much stronger beverages at any time of the
day.

Tekki greeted me with one of her most beautiful smiles. Then again, I’ve never known her to smile any other way.

“A hole in the heavens above my coronation,” I said. “It’s so great being here. Instead, I have to go somewhere else and dabble in international politics and other such
nonsense.”

Anday Pu jumped on his barstool, perturbed, then turned to me. “Max, you don’t catch! It’s super cool to be a king! Then you can just tell everyone else to stuff it! If I were
you—”

“Yeah. If you were me. That would be something. I’d love to see it. Preferably through a keyhole,” I said. “What’s going on with you today, buddy? You’re
suspiciously sober and all dressed up. Wait, don’t tell me you’re going to the coronation.”

“Sir Rogro Jiil, praise be the Magicians, does catch that I’d do a much better job there than some know-it-all writer for the society pages,” said Anday.
“Because—”

“Because they don’t allow journalists in to such events at all,” I said. “Now you, on the other hand, as a friend of mine, do stand a chance to gain admission, right? You
don’t have to answer—I know I’m right. Being my friend is a unique advantage.”

“You don’t catch, Max,” said Anday. “Sometimes you can be so cynical, sound the alarm!”

I laughed to conceal embarrassment. I didn’t know what had gotten into me. It’s easy enough to offend an artist, not to mention a poet making a living as a reporter. Anday was
devastated. It pained me to look at him.

“Hey, stop pouting, Blackbeard Junior,” I said, winking at him. “It doesn’t matter what I’m blabbing about. What matters is that I’m inviting you to the
celebration, seeing that you’re all dressed up already.”

Anday winced. “I told you my head starts to spin when you call me those strange names. You don’t catch, Max. My name is the only thing that keeps me rooted.”

“You don’t need to be rooted,” I said. “You should fly for a change. It’s loads of fun, trust me. I tried it myself the other day.”

Tekki studied me with candid curiosity, but Anday Pu turned a deaf ear to my inadvertent confession.

“Still, I’m not prepared to be deprived of my only name,” he said.

His forced sobriety didn’t improve his mood, which even at the best of times was of a somewhat gloomy cast. My ambitious prophecy that living high on the hog and enjoying a brilliant
career would one day improve the temper of this hotheaded creature had been no more than wishful thinking.