The Stranger (47 page)
Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic
“Of course,” I said indifferently. “But I didn’t give a flying buttress, as you expressed it, either.”
“Then you absolutely must meet my father, who will give you evidence of my innocence. Sir Juffin, can you possibly do without us both at the same time? At least for one day?”
“What would I need you for? Get out of my sight this instant, if you wish,” Juffin said. “But just one day, mind you! Agreed? Sir Kofa, Sir Shurf, get used to the idea that tomorrow the two of you alone will answer for the safety and security of the Unified Kingdom. And tonight—only Kurush. Right, my friend?” Juffin stroked the bird’s fluffy little cap of feathers tenderly. “As for me, I intend to sleep for a whole day and night. Lady Melamori is probably already sipping expensive wine under the watchful supervision of her uncle. These two are planning an outing to the country to terrorize cats. We’re a pretty pack of Secret Investigators, bulwark against threats to our society’s well-being. It can’t be denied.”
“Well, how about it, Max?” Melifaro said, turning to me. “We’ll leave tonight, and get there in a few hours. If you’re at the levers of the amobiler, we’ll get there in one. Fresh country air, heaps of good food, and my Pa. It will be something, believe me. And Mama’s a treat, too.”
“Heaps of food, Papa, and Mama,” I repeated in rapture. “That sounds perfect. And a fast drive sounds even better. You’re a genius, Melifaro! I’m forever in your debt. Thank you, Juffin. You’re both lifesavers.”
I wasn’t exaggerating. A change of scenery was exactly what I needed just now. I hadn’t dared dream I would be lucky enough to get it.
“Well, shall we go?”
Melifaro was already dancing in the doorway in anticipation. He didn’t like sitting in one spot for very long, especially after a plan of action had been laid down.
“Yes, yes. Juffin, tell me, am I required to wear these rags of baleful splendor wherever I go?”
I meant, of course, the Mantle of Death. Not the most appropriate attire for a jaunt to the country.
“No. You only have to wear it within the city limits,” Juffin said acerbically. “But I thought you liked your little uniform.”
“I do like it. I’m just afraid the chickens out there will stop laying eggs from fright. Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh my gosh, another mystery!” Melifaro exclaimed wringing his hands. “Max, a hole in the heavens above, what on earth are ‘chickens’? Only turkeys lay eggs. Take it from a country boy!”
While Melifaro looked over my apartment in bewilderment, trying to understand whether it was asceticism or stinginess that had inspired me to settle down there, I cuddled with Armstrong and Ella, delighting in their throaty purrs and murmuring whatever banal endearments came into my head.
Then I went up to the bedroom and rummaged around in the closet until I found some duds that more or less corresponded to my foggy notions of the requirements country living. I went back down to the living room with a half-empty weekend bag in tow.
“I’m ready. I’m afraid you’ve gotten a sad impression of my way of life. I can’t do anything to change it. I love tenement living!”
“What do you mean? It’s great here!” Melifaro cried, brushing off my remark. “No frivolous extras. A real den for a lone hero. Truly, Max, it’s very romantic.”
“Shall we have a drink for the road? I’m the most inhospitable host in the whole darn town. Actually, I don’t have anything to offer you, unless we decide to go out to the
Sated Skeleton
.”
Sated Skeleton
.”
“I took all we needed from the Ministry. Drink, kamra, and everything else I could grab. Let’s go, Max, or I’m going to collapse. You, no doubt, are even more exhausted.”
“I’m nowhere near collapse. You forget I’m the ‘nocturnal backside. ’ My shift is just beginning. Off we go!”
“You know, Max, there is an aura of evil about you,” Melifaro remarked, getting into the amobiler. “Your nocturnal habits, your fast driving, your gloomy expression, the black looxi, you don’t eat soup, like normal people do . . . Not to mention your absurd habit of killing crown criminals. It’s too much for one person. It’s no wonder Melamori is afraid of you.”
“Afraid of me!”
“Of course, didn’t you know? When I saw how she looked at you, I thought, ‘That’s it, pal. You can go scratch your backside. You’ve got a serious competitor!’ Then I realized that my stakes hadn’t fallen so low. The lady fears you like a nightmare.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why should she be afraid of me? Melamori isn’t one of those prissy city girls who are ready to pee in their pants whenever I go out to the store for some useless crap.”
“That’s just it. She’s no priss. She understands people better than anyone. That’s her job. Ask her yourself. How should I know? Anyway, I think I’ll doze off while we’re driving.”
“Then we’ll be on the road for a very long time. Because the only road I’d be able to find without your advice leads directly to the Barren Lands.”
Of course I was lying shamelessly, since I didn’t even know that road.
“And I thought you knew everything, like Juffin.”
“Everything except addresses, birthdays, and other such nonsense.”
“Too bad. Besides those things, there’s usually nothing to know about people. Well, all right. I’ll be the navigator. You’re not going to tell me anything about what happened today, either, Max? Mystery of mysteries, but I’m dying of curiosity!”
“He was my illegitimate brother,” I answered in a malicious whisper. “And since we both claim the inheritance of our Papa—two old nags and a heap of their manure—I just took advantage of the privileges of office and finished off my rival.”
“Very funny. So it really is a terrible secret?”
“If it were up to me, it might not necessarily remain a secret. But terrible it certainly was. So terrible that it’s not even funny. Actually, if I hadn’t killed him, he would have died anyway. It was something like losing the Spark, only even more unpleasant.”
“How exciting!” Melifaro had an unending supply of good humor. “Fine. Never mind. You can keep your secret to yourself. By the way, there’s a left turn here. Wow, you’d make a great race car driver, mate!”
“What should I know about the customs you keep at home?” I asked, changing the subject. “When Juffin dragged me over to old Makluk’s to pay a visit, I nearly had a heart attack: bearers, palanquins, packs of servants everywhere, dressing for dinner. I shouldn’t expect anything like that, should I?”
“Take a good look at me, Max. How could I be the son of people who observe formalities? Mama believes that every guest has one sacred obligation: to remain full at all times. My father adheres to only one rule: no stupid rules, end of story. Do you know that it’s because of this I don’t have a name?”
“Really? I couldn’t understand why everyone always called you by your last name. I wanted to ask, but I thought maybe the problem was that you had some completely bizarre first name.”
“And you spared my vanity? You shouldn’t have. I don’t suffer from that, and I wish others didn’t, either. I just don’t have a name. When I was born my father had already left on his famous journey. Mama sent him a call every day asking what to name me, and every day he had a new idea. Each day she would ask again, just to make sure—always with the same result. When I turned three, my mother finally got tired of this shilly-shallying, and she asked the question point blank. Well, magnificent Sir Manga was very busy at the time, and his answer was: ‘Why does he need a first name at all with a last name like ours?’ My mama has her own notions of marital harmony. She said, ‘Well, may everything be as you wish, dear. You’ll be the one to protest later on.’ So she didn’t argue with him, all the more since it wasn’t a matter of her name, but of mine! And that’s how I’ve gone through life, though it’s the only thing I have to complain about—that’s for sure.”
“That’s great. I have the opposite situation. I was lucky with my name; but that’s the only thing I’m grateful to my parents for.”
“That’s right—you have just one name, too.” Melifaro nodded sympathetically. “You’re happy with it?”
“Actually, no. But you saw my living quarters. I don’t like anything superfluous.”
“You’re right there, too. Now you have to turn left. Slow down a bit. The road gets bad here.”
“Slow down? Never!” I cried out proudly, as we flew over the bumps and potholes, and the landscape whizzed by.
“Here we are,” Melifaro said with relief when we had come to a high wall hung with fragrant, trailing greenery. “But are we still alive? No, Max, there’s something monstrous about you! And I’ve invited this monster to my own home. But what can I do? I won’t call for Juffin to come to the rescue. He’s even worse. Let’s go, Mr. Bad Dream.”
The inhabitants of the enormous estate were already asleep, so we went out to the kitchen, where we silently devoured everything we could get our hands on. Then Melifaro showed me to a small, cozy room.
“When I was a child, and I was sick, or just sad, I would always sleep here. It’s the best place in the house, believe me. Make yourself comfortable. This room does wonders for people who’ve had a hard day like you have. First, you’ll fall asleep right away, no matter what your ordinary habits are. And then—well, you’ll see for yourself. My runaway grandfather, Filo Melifaro, built this part of the house himself. And he was not the least significant person in the Order of the Secret Grass.”
“Really? Juffin gave me a turban from their Grand Magician as a gift.”
“That’s really something! You’re a lucky man. Try not to lose it—it’s a powerful thing. I’m off. If I don’t go to sleep right now, I’ll expire, that’s for sure.”
And I was alone. A pleasant weariness lay on my chest like a pillow of soft ivy. It was wonderful. I undressed, got down on all fours, and fastidiously examined the local “dream station.” I discovered the blanket and wriggled down into the warm darkness underneath. I felt calm and happy. I didn’t much feel like sleeping, but lying on my back and silently contemplating the ceiling—what could be better!
The dark beams above enchaned me. They seemed to undulate ever so slightly, like waves of a tranquil sea, and eventually their rhythmic motion lulled me to sleep. In my dreams I saw all the places I loved—the city in the mountains, the English park, empty beaches. I didn’t dream about Echo anymore, though. There was nothing surprising about that—Echo had become part of another life, and I roamed its streets awake now.
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