The Stranger's Magic: The Labyrinths of Echo: Book Three (36 page)

“Am I already being cheated on?” I said. “So soon?”

“You will be,” said Melifaro. “After your speech yesterday, it could happen any minute now. You took such a load off the girls’ poor minds when you said they didn’t
have to stay in the bedroom with such a monster as you for the rest of their lives. I love you, man!”

“Me? Why me?” I said.

“Why not? Hey, look! Here comes our Master Eavesdropper-Gobbler! And he has his own face, for some reason. Way to blow the cover. Good day, Kofa.”

“It’s been quite a day, indeed,” said Kofa, sitting down next to Melifaro. “How come you’re not eating anything?”

“We were too busy talking about women,” said Melifaro.

“Really? How very original of you. Still, I suggest we order something to eat and talk about something less exciting so it doesn’t interfere with digestion. About work, for example.
What kind of news do you have, Max? Is it serious or not?”

“Frankly, I’m not sure,” I said. “It may be serious, or it may be nonsense. We need to discuss it.”

“Well, I have something really peculiar to tell you, so I’m going to start, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m all ears,” I said.

“Some of you should be all mouth,” said Kofa, giving a kind look to the trays of food. He tasted the contents of his pot, nodded, and began his story. “After you and Kekki
chatted about that sinning chest for a half hour, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And if I think about something for more than just a few minutes, my feet inevitably bring me to where I can meet the protagonist of a story, or at least where I can find out more about him.” Kofa looked at me,
smiling. “No, boy, this isn’t a metaphor. It’s just my little talent—well, one of them, but it’s very useful. When I was the General of the Police of the Right Bank,
not a day went by that I didn’t have to use it. I still do, occasionally. There are hundreds of taverns in Echo, praise be the Magicians, and there’s just one me. I’d be worthless
at my job if I couldn’t come to the right place at the right time.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Until now, I had a very different idea about your job.”

“That’s what I thought. That’s why I decided to explain it to you while we’re at it. In addition, I want you to know why I knew that my story has everything to do with
your friend’s stolen possessions, Max.”

Kofa fell silent and began eating, as though giving me time to process new information. Finally, he went on. “Last night, I took our ladies home and went out, never stopping to think about
that sinning chest. I let my legs take me where they thought I should be. I ended up in the Drunken Rain.”

“Oh, that’s a good place,” said Melifaro in a tone of an expert.

“A good place I’ve never heard of,” I said.

“Life is long,” said Kofa. “There’s still time. Please don’t interrupt me.”

Melifaro and I felt ashamed and tried to look intelligent. Kofa appreciated our efforts, nodded, and continued. “The Drunken Rain was almost empty, just what a man needs to meet an old
friend of his. My old friend’s name was Zekka Moddorok. He once was an apprentice at the Order of Green Moons.”

“Oh, Anday’s father and grandfather used to make a living working for that Order,” I said. “They became cooks after they had tired of pirating and settled in Echo. Then
they died, when the army of your legendary Gurig VII burned down the Residence of the Order. But I thought all the members of the Order of Green Moons were killed in the beginning of the Troubled
Times. Looks like some of them survived.”

“Of course,” said Kofa. “A few apprentices and nineteen Junior Magicians—everyone who happened to be elsewhere at the time. The Junior Magicians had to sneak out of the
Unified Kingdom, and apprentices weren’t prosecuted because no one saw them as a threat.

“I became acquainted with Zekka Moddorok under completely different circumstances. He was a marauder during the Troubled Times and liked it so much he couldn’t stop even after the
establishment of the Code of Krember. During the first years of the new Epoch, several famous robberies were committed, with and without the use of Forbidden Magic. The police couldn’t crack
those cases: in the beginning of his career, General Boboota Box was an even dimmer bulb than he is now, and the organization lacked people with the intelligence of Lieutenant Apurra Blookey or the
late Shixola.

“Chaos reigned until I put my work in the Secret Investigative Force on hold to catch that sweet young man Zekka personally. I’m not joking about him being sweet. You should have
seen his large blue eyes and freckled button of a nose. Back then he was as old as you two are now, yet he looked like a spoiled teenager, much to the chagrin of his numerous victims. He ended up
doing time in Xolomi—ninety years, no less. He was convicted of two murders, though most likely those were cases of involuntary manslaughter. But a murder is a murder.”

“So he just got out recently?” said Melifaro. “When did you lock him up?”

“In ’26. He got out late last year. I had almost forgotten about him—I had other things on my mind—but I recognized him immediately. The same round eyes and innocent,
childish smile, as though he’s about to ask you if he can have another piece of candy.

“I immediately remembered that Zekka Moddorok had once had a good chance of becoming acquainted with the relatives of your friend, Max. Then I realized that he could be one of the
accomplices of the chest thieves. It’s just too much of a coincidence. Plus, my premonition led me to the Drunken Rain, and when I looked at the rest of the customers—the three fellows
who were dozing off—I felt nothing but boredom.

“Zekka didn’t recognize me at first—I had shape-shifted beforehand, naturally—but I wanted to speak with him as myself. There was no need to beat around the bush. By the
time I approached his table, I had already taken off the mask. Zekka was taken aback, but I was very polite and lenient. When you want to crack open someone who’s not too bright, the best
strategy is to let him think you consider him a witness, not a perpetrator. Out of pure relief, he’ll start lying so blatantly and profusely that at some point he’s going to say
something he shouldn’t. That’s my personal expert advice to you, boys, absolutely free of charge.”

“Congratulations, Kofa,” said Melifaro. “I’ve heard this advice from you six thousand six hundred sixty-six times. A neat symmetrical number, isn’t it?”

“Very symmetrical, indeed. So nice of you to keep track of my advice rather than make use of it. But why dream of the impossible?”

“Where would I encounter those ‘not too bright’ fellows?” said Melifaro. “I work solely with geniuses and can’t make use of your advice.”

“Go on, Kofa,” I said. “What did he say that he shouldn’t have? Did he complain that Anday’s basement was too dusty?”

“Don’t rush me. I began by reminding Zekka of his acquaintance with Zoxma Pu. He frowned, pretending he was desperately trying to remember the name, which was already a glaring
mistake on his part. No one who has been an apprentice at any Order will ever, ever forget the name of the Order’s chef. The kitchen is the coziest place in the Residence of any Order. A
novice, baffled by all the magic, can go there and have a rest from the madness transpiring around him. It’s like coming home and pressing your face into your mother’s apron, if you
know what I mean.

“Then I told Zekka that there was some unbelievable mystery connected with their late chef, which I was investigating as part of my job, and that I’d be grateful if he could remember
any little detail. I didn’t mention the chest, of course. Instead, I said that there was a reward for any assistance in this case. Almost immediately, Zekka ‘remembered’ and began
pouring out the details of his distant youth. He was on a roll, so I could afford to relax a little and even ordered some Fire in the Dragon’s Throat—the house specialty—for both
of us.

“Zekka thanked me, then complained that he felt a little chilly, pulled an old looxi from the back of his chair, and began wrapping himself in it. I was even about to ask him why on earth
he was wearing these old rags. He comes from a very well-to-do family, and I’ve never heard any rumors about the Moddoroks rejecting their misguided son. His mother is still crazy about the
blue eyes of her little baby boy.

“I had just opened my mouth to ask Zekka about his financial and family affairs when he mumbled something about the door not being closed and sitting right in the draft. With these words,
he got up and headed to the door. And then something unfathomable happened.”

“You lost your appetite?” said Melifaro.

“Worse. I lost my suspect. I never took my eyes off him, yet he disappeared in the middle of a well-lit room and I didn’t even see it happen. The needle of the gauge in my pipe
didn’t budge, which means that he didn’t use Forbidden Magic.”

“So he went down the Dark Path then,” I said.

“Oh, no, he didn’t,” said Kofa. “Trust me, if something as extraordinary as that had happened, I would have sensed it.”

“Hold on, Kofa,” said Melifaro. “Let me get this straight. Are you saying that Zekka Moddorok just vanished, evaporated right in front of your eyes?”

“Not really. At some point I just couldn’t focus my vision on him. I know it sounds insane, but my sight just went all blurry. Then I started seeing circles, and everything went a
little wonky, like when you’re about to faint. It only lasted for a couple of seconds, no longer. I blinked a few times and it passed, but when I stared at the space between the table and the
door, Zekka Moddorok wasn’t there. He was nowhere in the tavern. I ran outside, but he wasn’t on the street, either.”

“Should I listen to the end of your story, or should I go look for this invisible man right away?” said Melifaro, getting up.

“No need to go look for him,” said Kofa. “And let me tell you why. Sit down.”

“Fine,” said Melifaro, sitting back down. “If you say so.”

“If I told you that this had never happened to me before, I wouldn’t be exaggerating,” said Kofa. “It made me furious. I decided I’d turn this World inside out as
many times as it would take me to find this fellow, and no later than right after dawn.”

“I see now,” said Melifaro. “If I understand you correctly, Mr. Zekka Moddorok has already made himself comfortable in our detention cell in the House by the Bridge. I know
you!”

“In a sense, he has indeed made himself comfortable in the House by the Bridge—but not quite the way you think he has,” said Kofa. “But let me go on. I like to tell
things in an orderly fashion.”

“Of course, of course,” said Melifaro.

“I returned to my table and focused on my desire to find Zekka. But I couldn’t even do that! Which was something almost unheard of. Then I tried a different approach. Instead of
thinking about where Zekka was at that moment, I thought about what he had done. I didn’t doubt for a second that he had done something already. I went out, and some time later, I found
myself on the Left Bank—more specifically, by the villa of old Sir Chaffi Ranvara. And I had a very distinct feeling that Zekka had been there not long ago. I didn’t want to bother Sir
Ranvara or his servants—it was after midnight—so instead, I sent a call to Kekki and asked her if anything bad had happened at Ranvara’s villa recently.

“Kekki replied that just four days ago the villa had been robbed. The burglars had taken money and a great deal of valuables—all under very mysterious circumstances. The villa had
been full of servants all day, and the room where most of the valuables had been stored had been locked with a very strong, intricate lock—the work of an old craftsman. The lock would scream
if anyone tried to pick it, and Sir Ranvara always carried the only key in the pocket of his looxi. The door showed no signs of a break-in, and there were no windows in that room. In any event,
there had been so many people in the villa that it was unimaginable that no one had noticed anything. Of course the police suspected every servant since they didn’t know better.

“I then asked Kekki if there had been similar cases around that time, and what do you think? Seven days ago, a large sum of money had been stolen under similar circumstances—and not
just from any place but from the Chancellory of Big Sums of Money!”

“Whoa!” said Melifaro. “How come they never turned to us?”

“Well, the loss of a ‘large sum of money’ wasn’t a good enough reason to pass the case to the Secret Investigative Force,” said Kofa. “Now, if they had stolen
all the money . . . But that would’ve required an army of very muscular thieves. Anyway, that’s irrelevant. With this news, I set out to pay a visit to Lady Moddorok, Zekka’s
mother. I had to get her out of bed. It’s not in my nature to do such a thing, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, what was she thinking, giving birth to such a rogue?
So I told her that her son was in trouble. I said his old enemies from ninety years ago were following him, and that I needed to know where he was staying or else those horrible people might find
him before dawn, and I was the only person who could save her poor baby. It was utter nonsense, but it worked like a charm on the old lady.”

“He told his mother where he was staying?” I said. “Some criminal.”

“Exactly,” said Kofa. “But you have to know this fellow really well to understand why I wasted my time chatting with his old lady. He visits her almost every day because, you
see, that old ex-con just can’t live without his mommy’s sweet, sweet love.”

“I’ll be darned,” I said.

“People often make blunders like that. Even criminals much tougher than Zekka,” said Kofa. “Here’s an interesting one. About two hundred years ago, I was chasing after a
murderer who couldn’t live a day without a cream puff pastry. Instead of lying low somewhere in the suburbs, he would come to Echo daily for his favorite treat. I busted him right here in the
Glutton, except that back then Mr. Bunba himself was behind the bar.” Kofa gave a soft sentimental sigh and began filling his pipe. “The odd part was that Zekka Moddorok wasn’t at
the address his mother gave me. I found a little Secret Door in his bedroom, and behind it a closet filled with Chaffi Ranvara’s valuables, as well as a great deal of money, fresh from the
mint. Only an imbecile couldn’t guess the origin of the coins.