The Stranger (54 page)

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Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon

Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic

BOOK: The Stranger
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It wasn’t that I felt sorry for this woman, nor could what I experienced have been called pity. It was just that everything that had happened to her seemed to be happening to me, as well. Lady Tanita’s sorrows washed over me like the sound of a television blaring in the next room. It wasn’t inside me, but I couldn’t escape it. In short, I experienced in the flesh the literal meaning of “empathy.”
There is nothing simpler than carrying out the impossible. You just have to imagine what you must do, and turn your mind off completely. When you come to your senses, everything is already behind you.
I swear by the World that when I was wrapping the piece of meat in the blanket, I felt not a shred of emotion. I didn’t feel anything later, either, when I was enacting my favorite trick, as a result of which the disgusting mummy fit between the thumb and forefinger of my left hand. And while I was walking through the empty city to the House by the Bridge, my feelings were dormant, as though some part of myself, tender and vulnerable, had been put into cold storage until better times.
 
When I reached the Ministry, I wondered where I should unload my burden. Perhaps in the small, dark chamber, thoroughly insulated from the rest of the world, where material evidence was stored? Or in one of the chilly, spacious basement rooms that served as the morgue and were nearly always empty? I was so perplexed about this dilemma that I decided to consult Kurush.
“If you’re sure that this was once a person, it can only be a corpse,” said the wise bird.
I felt relieved. Here was some degree of certainty, in any case.
Only after the aromatic corpse was on the stone floor did I allow myself to become a bundle of nerves again.
I went to wash my hands. I washed them for a full half hour, scraping away at the skin with my fingernails.
After this ritual purification on my upper extremities, I felt better and went back to the office.
“An auspicious End of the Year, eh?” I said, winking at Kurush. “A visit from a beautiful damsel and a mountain of food.”
“Are you serious, Max?” asked the buriwok cautiously. “I don’t think you can eat that. In fact, people are constantly eating all kinds of junk they shouldn’t.”
“Of course I’m joking,” I said, petting the bird’s soft feathers. “Do you know whether there’s any good kamra left over around here, Kurush? The kind I didn’t make, that is?”
“In Melifaro’s office there’s most likely a whole jug of it,” the buriwok replied. “I saw them bring it in, and I know the master of the office left a few minutes later. They also had pastries with them, so who knows.”
“Great.”
I catapulted headlong into the office of my “daylight half.” On the table I found a jug of kamra and several pastries. The fellow had been so eager to return to his home, now emptied of relatives, that he didn’t bother to finish the treats, though at his habitual rate of consumption they should have been gone in seconds flat, so Kurush and I were in luck. We were unlikely to reach the ever-hospitable Madame Zizinda with a call. Any other time or season, sure, but not the Last Night of the Year.
 
Toward morning, I managed not only to drink all the kamra and help Kurush clean the sticky cream off his beak, I did more: I drew up a plan of action. I was ready to accept the challenge, in the spirit of Melamori and her gambling fever. It was the first time in my professional life that I had been on a case from the word go. With all my heart I wanted to see it through to the end, and to do everything properly. Naturally, there could be no thought of dealing with it all on my own. That wasn’t necessary. But I felt that when Juffin arrived, I simply had to greet him, not only with the news of the sordid case, but also with an aim to solving it.
Juffin, it seemed, had sensed something was up, arriving much earlier than he was expected.
“Couldn’t sleep,” the chief announced gloomily, sitting down in his chair. “Everything all right with you, Max?”
“With me, yes. But as for a certain sweet lady—no, I wouldn’t say so. This wondrous night has left a widow in its wake.”
Then I reported to Juffin what had happened, down to the last detail.
“Hm, is that why I jumped out of bed this morning like I had been stung? What I want to know is whether Zizinda has opened her lair already, or whether she’s still in the land of nod. Never mind, she won’t refuse to stir her stumps for such an old customer. Now I’ll just take a glance at your ‘piece of meat,’ and it’s off to breakfast. Let’s go, Sir Max.”
After a visit to the morgue, we went out to the
Glutton.
Just where was the logic in our actions, I wondered. Madame Zizinda greeted us at the door. Evidently, her intuition was in fine working order, too.
 
“Juffin, I’ve had some time to think,” I mumbled, turning red and staring at my plate. “Actually, I have a plan.”
“What’s wrong with you, Max?” the chief raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Where is your ever-ready supply of self-confidence?”
“Well, you see, when I was mulling it over I felt so smart and clever; but now . . . Of course, you’ll have your own plan of action. And mine is no match for it, I’m sure.”
“Nonsense,” said Juffin and patted me on the back. “So what if I have? And what makes you think I have one at all? Come on, then. Out with it.”
“This is what I think. It’s all very strange, of course. I don’t know whether this is unprecedented—maybe during the Epoch of Orders . . . In short, I would submit a request to the Main Archive. Let Lookfi question all the buriwoks. If there was a precedent, it could help us. Then we have to find out more about Mr. Karwen Kovareka. Maybe he got mixed up with some Mutinous Magicians, stumbled on a secret of the Order, for instance? We have to find out. I think for Kofa, finding out is just a matter of one, two, three. And Melamori probably has to visit the bedroom to discover whether anyone else was there who shouldn’t have been. I don’t think so myself, but just to make sure I can talk to Lady Tanita. She seems to like me. I gave her some advice about how not to lose her mind, and we made friends. Now, Melifaro, I think, should lead the parade. He knows how to ignite everyone’s interest, and he can manage Boboota’s boys, as well. That’s about it.”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Juffin. “This means I can even retire tomorrow if I want to. You’re really a fine fellow, and I mean that with all my heart. Eat up!”
I tucked into my food, already growing cold, with relish.
“We’ll put your plan into action,” Juffin said in a decisive tone. “You seem to have all the bases covered. I have only one comment to make.”
“What is that?” I said, my mouth full of food, and happy that there was just one comment.
“You must remember how you recognized the smell,” he said earnestly.
“Oh, Juffin. I’ve already broken my head—my nose—over that one. It’s no use.”
“I know one thing for sure: it’s not from your world. You can trust me on this one. It’s a very strange scent, but it is indigenous to this World. There’s not the slightest doubt about it. So start walking around town. Visit one by one all the taverns you’ve been in before. And sniff them out. Who knows?”
“Okay, but what’s to say that when I find the place they’ll be serving the same thing?”
“You’re lucky, Max. That’s your only guarantee. The main thing is not to come down with the sniffles—this is absolutely the wrong time. Let’s go to the Ministry. You’ll be in command, and I can enjoy myself.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Why should I want to do that? Your plan deserves the highest praise. So implement it.”
“Juffin, it’s much easier for me to do things myself than to explain to a bunch of people what I think they should be doing.”
“I know. I’m the same way. But life doesn’t always live up to our expectations. You have to get used to that.”
 
We returned to the House by the Bridge. Then Juffin went home to have a few dreams, since, as he said, his faith in me was absolute. He had finally convinced me of that. I also understood that I had to crack this case before sunset or die. Or at least burn up from shame, and become a silver residue of ash somewhere in a dark corner of the Ministry for Perfect Public Order. And it has plenty of dark corners.
I heaved a sigh, gathered my wits, and got down to work. I sent a call to Melifaro, to Sir Kofa, and to Melamori. I told them to report to work. All three of them were shaken down to the soles of their feet. I wasn’t so fluent in Silent Speech, though, that I could offer my colleagues the opportunity to say everything they thought about me and my idiotic appeal at daybreak on the First Day of the Year. “Over and out!” I barked, and signed off, realizing further cause for why Juffin had been so willing to give me a chance to prove my mettle.
There was no point in bothering Lookfi. The buriwoks from the Main Archive don’t open their beaks before noon. They have their own daily rhythm of existence. It’s only our Kurush who is a saint.

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