The Stranger's Magic: The Labyrinths of Echo: Book Three (5 page)

We were tearing along toward Echo through the sleepy suburbs on this gloomy morning. Melifaro, who loved sunny weather, looked visibly downcast. At one point, he demanded that I entertain him,
but I said I had to keep my eyes on the road. He calmed down and even began to doze off from boredom.

I was completely entranced by the beautiful gloomy morning. Each raindrop on the windshield looked like a tiny inimitable wonder. Just recently, I had noticed that even rain in this World was
different from the usual precipitation I had spent my first thirty years soaking in. Sure, it was just water, but the sweet scent of the pollen, the barely noticeable purple tint of the streaks of
rains, the . . .

It was nice to remember that I still was a newcomer in this beautiful World. Deep inside, I hoped that this feeling would stay with me a lot longer. So many new ways to get myself in trouble, so
many opportunities to be amazed over trivial things. The latter—the blissful opportunities to be amazed over trivial things—filled my life so fully that I could almost afford not to
wish for anything else. Frankly, that morning, I didn’t wish for anything else.

Once I had dropped off my daytime half by the House by the Bridge, I decided it was a good idea to drop by myself. I had to tell Juffin the mysterious story of my silly dreams.

Sir Juffin had not yet arrived. I guessed that at that time of the day I could probably find him on the Street of Old Coins: he still hadn’t sated his craving for late-night movie
screenings. I carefully weighed the options and decided that Shurf’s (and, by extension, my own) problem could wait until the evening—unlike Tekki, who had probably begun tossing and
turning by now. Yesterday she had said she might regret the chance she had let slip. I couldn’t allow my beautiful lady to fall so low. From time to time, I discover that I have principles
that I simply cannot forego.

I returned to the House by the Bridge only an hour before sunset and went straight to the office that I shared with Juffin. Kurush was the only occupant. He sat on the back of the armchair with
an allimportant look.

“Where’s the boss, O wise one?” I said.

“I don’t know,” said the bird. “He came and went, came and went. People, as you know, are known to be somewhat restless.”

“That we are,” I said, sighing, and sent Juffin a call.

It’s the second time I’ve come to the Headquarters today and not found you here.

It’s your own fault. You should work on your sense of timing, said Juffin. It’s high time that you learned to come exactly when I’m in. More to the point, however: What on
earth are you doing there? As I recall, I gave you two days off—at your own persistent request, may I remind you. What happened? Couldn’t bear the life of a loafer?

Nah, loafing wasn’t the problem. It’s my absentmindedness—I thought it had already been two days, I said. Then I added with a sigh, Juffin, to be honest, I have a few questions
that you’re the one most likely to have the answers to.

Well, I’ve had a rough day, so if your confession can wait, let’s put it off until tomorrow, said Juffin. Otherwise, you can come to the Street of Old Coins tonight. You’ll
definitely find me here. It won’t even matter if your sense of timing is off.

Thank you, Juffin. I’ll do that.

Good. Now get out of my office. I know you all too well. First you’ll drink two or three mugs of kamra, and then you’re going to say that you had to work overtime.

Hey, it’s my office, too! I said. All right, all right. I’m gone already.

Liar!

You can’t fool the boss, I thought. I gave a loud, deep sigh, rose from the armchair where I had just curled up, and went to the Hall of Common Labor. Shurf Lonli-Lokli wasn’t there,
so I decided to take my chances and look for him in his lair.

He wasn’t in his huge, almost empty, and sterile office either, but I sensed that he would show up any minute now. I had gotten so used to trusting my instincts that I didn’t bother
to burden myself with Silent Speech. Instead, I grabbed a random book from a small white bookshelf over his desk, sat on the only (and very hard) chair in the room, and prepared to wait.

The book was The Pendulum of Immortality. I had seen Shurf reading it many times already. I didn’t have the chance to dip into this literary monument, however. Moments later, the door at
the far end of the office opened with a quiet creak. I’m a fast reader, all right, but not that fast.

“You came even sooner than I expected,” I said, getting up from the owner’s chair. I rushed to put the book back on the shelf—I knew what a pain in the neck Shurf
was.

“I am happy to see you, Max,” said Lonli-Lokli. His stone face looked almost friendly. “But I should be very much obliged if you returned the book to the place you took it
from.”

“Wait, what did I just do?”

“You put it on the shelf—you didn’t return it. The book was the third from the right, and now it is the rightmost item on the shelf. Do not get me wrong, Max. I am all for
changes in general, yet untimely changes do not facilitate a good mood.”

I submitted without a murmur and returned the book to its original place. Then I couldn’t contain myself and laughed. “Oh, this is just brilliant, Shurf! Sometimes I think that the
World stands on your back.”

“It may well be true,” said this wonderful fellow in an indifferent tone. “Do you have any news for me, or have you just decided to pay a visit?”

“Yes and yes. But my news requires a more intimate setting: a candlelit dinner and whatnot. Got a minute?”

“Must it be candlelit?” said Lonli-Lokli. “There are not many taverns in Echo that use candles, you know. Illuminating gas is much more practical.”

“Fine, we’ll do away with the candles,” I said in the tone of a person who was willing to sacrifice the most sacred principles in the interests of business. “To be
perfectly straight, we can do away with the dinner, too. I don’t have much in terms of news. I just like to combine business with pleasure.”

“So do I,” said Shurf, grinning. “And since you mentioned candles, we could go to the Vampire’s Dinner. Their cuisine is not bad, and I think they still don’t have
too many customers there. They even have candles. Would this be agreeable to you?”

“The Vampire’s Dinner is a marvelous place. I had no idea you ever went there.”

“At one time, it was one of my favorite taverns, and I still find it pleasant. I used to dine there almost every day.”

“‘Used to’? Was it during your Merry Fishmonger days, by any chance?” I said.

“Oh, no. Much, much later. Incidentally, it was there that I met my wife. She caught my fancy by ordering precisely the dishes that I found virtually inedible. I thought that studying that
woman would grant me access to a new side of human life that hitherto had been unknown to me. A side that does not find the taste of Kuankulex wine or Loxrian xatta revolting.”

I shook my head, bewildered. This fellow baffled me every now and then. Sometimes I thought he did it on purpose, and not entirely without ulterior motives. I’m sure he keeps a special
notebook at home where he writes down how many times a day he has baffled me. He then rubs his hands together in his fancy laced gloves and chortles when nobody can see him.

The interior of the Vampire’s Dinner was as dramatic as its name: candles, semidarkness, and tabletops with splashes of red paint suggesting blood. A large but friendly fellow was dozing
off behind the bar. He had gone through the trouble of putting on some evening makeup, whitening his face, blackening his eyebrows, and painting some fluorescent formula around his eyes. Gobs of
red lipstick were supposed to create the impression that this nice guy had just quenched his thirst with a few glasses of blood from his innocent victims.

I shook my head in amusement. The first time I had walked into the Vampire’s Dinner had not been the best day of my life. Yet even then, the place had lifted my spirits. Now, when I was
feeling so wonderful and so complete, I couldn’t have asked for a better place to be.

Shurf and I were the only visitors in the tavern. We sat down at the table farthest from the door. The proprietor, happy with the sudden arrival of customers, promptly brought us the menu. He
was friendly and courteous. Neither the protective gloves covering the death-dealing hands of Sir Lonli-Lokli, nor my Mantle of Death—both well known in the Capital—seemed to bother
him. On the contrary, they seemed to complement the mood of the place.

“I remember once having a Breath of Evil here,” I said. “An excellent treat, I must say, Shurf. I highly recommend it.”

“Strange. I do not recall seeing it on the menu before.”

“That’s because you used to come here back in the unpalatable times right after the ratification of the Code of Krember. I came here in the good old days when every chef was ordered
to wear the Earring of Oxalla and allowed to cook whatever he wanted.”

“Oh, I see. It’s one of the dishes of the old cuisine. Indeed, I have not come here at all since Sir Juffin solicited a relaxation of restrictions for the chefs. Still, Max, you are
exaggerating, as usual. Last time I was here was not more than four years ago—not a hundred and seventeen, as one might assume based on your unreasonable assertion.
Well, I should not pass up the chance of becoming acquainted with the dish you have recommended. Perhaps I should try the Breath of Evil.”

Shurf spoke in such a serious tone that it sounded as though he was talking about choosing a weapon that would (or wouldn’t) save our lives.

After the small pieces of cake on our plates had “blown up” like popcorn on a hotplate, and Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli had deigned to approve my choice of dish, I decided it was time to
talk business.

“I was there last night, Shurf,” I said. Shurf raised his eyebrows in perplexity, so I had to clarify. “In our dream—yours and mine. I went to sleep in Filo
Melifaro’s bedroom and found myself on that sinning beach. I didn’t find any strangers there, though. The beach can still hold the title of Most Desolate Place in the Universe. What I
did find there, however, was your footprints in the sand. Frankly, it shook me to the core.”

“It did, did it not?” said Shurf. “Are you sure those were my footprints and not someone else’s?”