The Stranger's Magic: The Labyrinths of Echo: Book Three (23 page)

“As you wish. But I’ll track sand all over Headquarters.”

“That’s definitely not going to be my problem,” said Juffin. “That’s why we keep the junior staff.”

“I keep forgetting that we have them,” I said. “Some king I am.”

“You’ll get used to it. It’s easy to get used to such things as an army of servants. The problems begin later when you have to get out of the habit.”

“Thanks. That really made me feel better,” I said.

I had to gallop just to keep up with the indefatigable Sir Venerable Head, who had descended the stairs by sliding down the railing—a favorite sport of primary schoolchildren and mean
sorcerers in all
Worlds.

“By the way, how did you manage to stay on the Threshold?” he said when I caught up with him on the street. “I didn’t dare hope you’d be able to. You’re still
not in the best shape after the battle.”

“Easy. I just asked for permission to wait for you.”

“You asked? What do you mean ‘asked’?” said Juffin.

“I don’t know. I just did. I even said thank you, so it’s all right.”

“Are you telling me that you just opened your mouth and politely expressed your request?”

“That’s right. Why?”

“Well, I’ll be! Congratulations, Max. Once again, you’ve demonstrated that life is an amazing thing. I’ve never heard of anything like it. You know, it very well may be
that you’ve made a great discovery. So far as I know, no one has ever thought of talking out loud in the Corridor between Worlds. Maybe that’s the easiest way to bargain with
it?”

“That’s exactly what I thought. And you know, I didn’t even have to make an effort. Heck, I didn’t even know what kind of effort I needed to make.”

“I’m going to try it myself next time. Maybe it’ll work. You never can tell.” Juffin looked at me with candid astonishment. Technically, I was supposed to be suffering a
major fit of megalomania, but I wasn’t. I had probably been inoculated against it.

The House by the Bridge was quieter than usual. Such massive, porridge-thick silence you can only catch at dawn, and then only if you’re lucky.

Our office was empty, but a burner with a pitcher of kamra was already standing on the desk. Sir Juffin, Magicians bless him, had sent a call to the Glutton Bunba beforehand. His order had
arrived even before we did. Such promptness could well be tantamount to lifesaving, at least when it came to my life.

I fell into the armchair and grabbed my cup. Meanwhile, the boss began a heroic struggle with his own spells: I wouldn’t recommend opening a Secret Door sealed by Sir Juffin Hully himself
as a family pastime. He used a great deal of inappropriate language during the procedure. Finally, the evil Door was defeated.

“Am I a great wizard, or what!” said Juffin. “Sir Shurf, you are now free. Consider this to be an amnesty in honor of the coronation of your buddy, His Majesty the King of the
Lands of Fanghaxra. As for my old buddy Gugimagon, he’s dead as a doornail. And don’t you dare tell me it’s bad news.”

“It is good news, indeed. It took you quite a while, did it not?” said Lonli-Lokli, closing his book. “As for me, I cannot say that I was pleased with last night’s
events. My Rider kept trying to get at me. I think he was particularly desperate to possess my body after you began destroying his own. It was a good thing that I had your blood, Juffin. Even after
he stopped thinking I was you, your blood helped me gain control over the situation. Finally, an hour ago, I was able to relax.”

“I’ll be damned. That cunning Gugimagon resisted until the very last minute!” said Juffin, shaking his head in amazement. “That’s why he was so listless. I think I
underestimated my old buddy a little. Do you want to sit and chat with us, Sir Shurf, or do you want do go home?”

“I will stay awhile,” said Lonli-Lokli, nodding and sitting next to me. “By the way, you promised to give me a lift home two days ago, Max, yet I am still here. It seems that
rumors of the speed at which you drive your amobiler are slightly exaggerated. Perhaps you would care to keep your promise?”

I was stunned at his impudence. If Sir Lonli-Lokli had begun to resort to irony, I should just shut up. I didn’t even try to come up with a decent retort.

“Well, if no one’s planning another assault on the driver, then why not?” I said.

“And I have your stuff here somewhere, Sir Shurf,” said Juffin. He fumbled in the numerous drawers of his desk, most of which, I was sure, opened up to some “fourth
dimension”—they were capable of holding too much stuff. After a short search that was spiced up with a few masterpieces of cursing, the boss produced from his desk the magic box with
Lonli-Lokli’s death-dealing gloves. “There you go. Welcome back to the Royal Service, Sir Shurf. I’m glad that your retirement was temporary.”

“Just don’t put them on yet, okay?” I said. “Or I’ll crash into the nearest lamppost from fear.”

“All right, if it makes you feel better,” said Lonli-Lokli.

He looked innocent. He scrutinized the box and shook his head.

“Why are you looking at it like that?” said Juffin. “What could possibly have happened to it?”

“Dust,” said Shurf.

“Nonsense. Where would it come from in my desk?”

“Nevertheless, the box is dusty,” said Lonli-Lokli. He examined the box once again and then wiped it with none other than the blackand-golden fold of my Mantle of Death. I opened my
mouth and shut it again because I didn’t know how to react to such unprecedented, barefaced impudence. I just stood there, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water.

“Unlike mine, your clothes are already dirty,” he said in a brazen manner. “A little bit of dust will not make any difference.”

Then he took a sip out of his cup. The issue had clearly been settled. Juffin laughed so hard that the windowpanes trembled. Finally, the humor of the situation dawned on me and I joined him.
Better late than never.

“You’ll make an excellent double act, gentlemen. All venues will be sold out on day one,” said Juffin when he stopped laughing. “Okay, all’s well that ends well. Go
get some sleep, both of you.”

“Can’t stand looking at us anymore?” I said.

“I can’t stand looking at anything. My eyelids are drooping. Plus, Kimpa’s already here to take me away from this Refuge for the Mad and deliver me right under my favorite
blanket.”

Juffin gave a contagious yawn and left the office first.

Since Lonli-Lokli and I had combined our efforts to turn my personal amobiler into a heap of scrap metal, we took one of the official ones.

“So how do you like the book so far?” I said as we pulled off.

“Outstanding. It seems to be a legend or prophecy of some sort—I am not quite sure yet. It talks about the end of humanity.”

“Oh, a dystopia,” I said, yawning. “It’s a popular genre. At least it’s not a romance novel.”

“What strange terminology,” said Shurf.

“Tell me more,” I said. “I forget, did I tell you I’d never read the story or heard of the author?”

“You did. Are you genuinely interested?”

“Of course I am. Do you think I’m just trying to keep up the conversation? When was the last time I was so willing to listen rather than talk? You think I can’t find a topic
for a long, exhausting monologue? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“All right, you have convinced me. The story is about the inhabitants of your World, who suddenly begin to die out one after another: the air becomes unsuitable for breathing, or the
people become unsuitable for breathing the air of their World. It seems that someone gave them the evil eye, except that the book uses a different term, which I cannot recall at the moment. Only a
few hundred people survive. First they wander about by themselves, and then they find one another. It turns out that while the air was fine, they were all deeply involved in some breathing
exercises—similar to those you have been too lazy to learn—and these exercises seemed to have helped them to adapt to the new air. They think that the World is coming to an end and wait
for the inevitable demise. Then they realize that life goes on: the animals and plants are unaffected; only the humans have suffered. The surviving people decide to settle on an island with a good
climate. If I understand it correctly, it is a special place, used for recreation.”

“A resort,” I said, nodding. “How does the story end?”

“I have not finished reading it, but so far, everything seems to be fine. Several years have passed since the disaster. The survivors manage to start a new life on the island and now
realize that they live better than they did before the disaster. I think they stopped growing older, or perhaps the aging process has slowed down. They have almost no children: only one child has
been born during the time they have been on the island, and everybody is surprised. One of the main characters decides to circumnavigate the World by means of a flying machine, the principle of
operation of which is not entirely clear to me. He discovers that the places where people once lived are now inhabited by birds. A species that used to live only in cities along with
people.”

“Pigeons,” I said. “Or sparrows?”

“Yes, pigeons. The character notices that their behavior suggests that they have become much more intelligent than they used to be. They have somehow restored the things that they found
useful and destroyed the rest. The person watching them thinks that the birds have come to replace people. Then he continues his journey and arrives at an island inhabited by turtles. He can
communicate with the turtles by means of something similar to our Silent Speech. The turtles tell him that a long time ago a similar disaster had struck their turtle ancestors, who had been
replaced by people. And before turtles there were other ‘Masters of the World’—that is what they called them. They were trees. Let me find the exact name—perhaps it will be
of importance to you.” Shurf opened the book, flipped a few pages, and nodded. “Yes, the trees were called sequoias. Before the trees, there were something else—dragons of some
sort, I think. This is where I have gotten to so far. A truly strange book. I have never read anything like it in my life.”

“Neither have I. Now show me where to go from here. I still don’t know where you live.”

“You are on the right course. I will tell you when to make a turn. Max, can you fetch more books from your World? I find them much more fascinating than the movies.”

“Okay, just don’t tell Juffin. He’s unbearable when he gets mad,” I said, chuckling. “I’ll try to get more books for you, Shurf. Don’t get your hopes
up, though: I never know beforehand what’s going to turn up. What if luck abandons us and I produce an arithmetic textbook for the second grade from the Chink between Worlds? Although,
knowing you, you might like it. In other words, I need to keep trying. And I will, as soon as I get some rest after my latest adventure.”

“Thank you, Max. Now you should take a left. My house is on the bank of the Xuron. It is sad that you have never visited me there. I should be honored to extend my invitation to
you,” said Shurf.

“All roads lead to the House by the Bridge,” I said, sighing. “That’s the problem.”

Having said goodbye to Shurf, I thought for a bit and decided it wouldn’t be appropriate to barge in on a beautiful girl after my stormy adventures. What I should do, I thought, is go to
my house on the Street of Yellow Stones and have a good, honest three-day-long sleep there.

Then I turned the amobiler and drove straight to Tekki’s house on the Street of Forgotten Dreams. I’m an expert at making reasonable decisions—but following them through? No
sirree, Bob!

Apparently Tekki had also decided to sleep for three days. In any case, she was sound asleep when I got there. Her face looked so stern that I didn’t dare ruin her plans. I got into bed
next to her and conked out.

Sinning Magicians, what was I thinking! Not only had I not taken a bath, I hadn’t even bothered to undress. For which I paid dearly. Not immediately, but some time later.