The Stranger (86 page)
Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic
“I won’t marry you, sir. You deceived me,” I said coquettishly. “Oh, Juffin, you should have heard him.”
Melifaro and I started howling with laughter again.
“What exactly has been going on here?” asked Juffin.
“Nothing I wouldn’t tell my mama,” I said. Now Sir Juffin joined in our laughter.
Fifteen minutes later, Melifaro and I had come to our senses and even found it possible to relate to Juffin the circumstances of our “acquaintance” with one another.
I had to hand it to Melifaro—he didn’t hesitate to recount his own idiocy in the most lurid colors.
“Well, Lady Marilyn, you’ve made some progress,” the chief said. “And who was so shocked by the prospect of turning into a woman two days ago?”
“I didn’t realize I’d be such a beauty. By the way, someone invited me out to dinner. You haven’t reconsidered, sir?” I said, winking at Melifaro.
“With a beauty like you, I’d go to the end of the world! Where will we go after dinner—your place or mine?”
“My place, naturally. My papa happens to be home. General Boboota, if you recall. He’ll tell you all about his military exploits. Sir Juffin, am I free this evening, or do we have a new lady colleague? Does the Mantle of Death look becoming on me, boys?” My new persona behaved much more frivolously than the old one.
“I don’t think a walk through the city would hurt you, Lady Marilyn. And you, Sir Melifaro, don’t lose your head over this flirt. The day after tomorrow she abandons you and sets off on her honeymoon with Sir Lonli-Lokli.”
Melifaro whistled under his breath, beginning to get the picture.
“So this is serious, gentlemen? And I thought—”
“That Max and I had lost our minds from boredom? Take your new girlfriend for a walk. And make sure she answers to her own name and doesn’t go into the men’s room by mistake.”
“I can assure you, everything’s in order in that department, judging from her recent performance,” Melifaro said. “What kind of life is this, Sir Juffin? As soon as you meet a nice girl, she turns out to be Mr. Bad Dream. And to top it off, she’s going to marry Lonli-Lokli! Do you think I’m made of stone?”
“You? You’re made of iron, beyond the shadow of a doubt!” the chief consoled him. “Max—er, Lady Marilyn, I mean, Sir Shurf and I will be expecting you tomorrow at sundown. You probably won’t be going home again, so try to arrange all your affairs and pack. And don’t worry about your furry beasts. Our junior employees will soon be climbing all over each other, vying to be the ones to look after them.”
I grew a bit sad thinking of my poor kitties. What a ne’er-do-well they had for a master.
“I think Ella’s expecting kittens soon,” I said. “Future royal felines. Though she’s so fat already that you’d never know.”
“Oh, Max, if only I had your problems,” Juffin said. “Sir Melifaro, grab your heartthrob and be off. I have a meeting to attend with Mr. Poisoner.”
“You know, Lady Marilyn, with such a sweet little face and Mr. Bad Dream’s amusing tricks, you’d make an ideal wife,” Melifaro said, seating me in the amobiler.
“I’ll say,” I replied, and then decided to ask about something I never would have dared mention in my original state. “And what about Lady Melamori?”
“Lady Melamori mumbles your name in her sleep, if you must know. And she devotes the rest of her time to deep, long-winded monologues about the advantages of living alone. What happened between the two of you, I’d like to know? Perhaps Lady Marilyn likes to gossip?”
“Perhaps she does. Only nothing happened between us except fate. We met in the Quarter of Trysts, to my misfortune.”
“Oh, that happens,” Melifaro sighed sympathetically. Then he grinned from ear to ear. “On the other hand, if you become a real girl, my mother will get a chance to marry me off at last! And remember—I’ve never said anything like that to a girl before.”
“Thanks. But I’m not ready for family life just yet. Let’s go. You still owe me dinner.”
Three hours later, a full, happy, and slightly tipsy Lady Marilyn stopped her amobiler by the doors of Lady Melamori’s house. Her woman’s heart told me I should, so I didn’t try to argue. Not deliberating too long about my actions, I sent a call to Melamori.
It’s me, Max. Peek out for a second, I’m standing at the entrance. I can’t, Max.
Melamori returned the call.
Do you know what you’re doing? We can’t see each other for the time being. Until . . . until it feels right.
Melamori returned the call.
Do you know what you’re doing? We can’t see each other for the time being. Until . . . until it feels right.
If I dragged myself here in the middle of the night, it’s probably not so that things between us would become even worse. Just take a look outside—then you can decide whether to let me in or not. I swear by Sir Juffin’s favorite pajamas that you won’t regret it. No one but me will ever surprise you like this again. I’m waiting.
Healthy curiosity proved stronger than her apprehension. In a minute, the tip of Melamori’s nose was poking out the door.
“Who are you?” she asked sharply. “And where is Sir Max? Is this some kind of joke?”
“Of course it’s a joke,” I smiled. “And a very good one, too, don’t you think?”
“You . . . What do you mean by that?”
“Try to get on my trail. All your doubts will disappear with the wave of a hand. Well, what are you waiting for?”
Melamori jumped out of her slippers quick as a flash, and in another flash she was standing at my back. A few seconds of constrained silence, and then a sharp intake of air.
“Oh, Sir Max, what’s happened?” she asked, her lips turning pale. “Did someone cast a spell on you?”
“Yep. It’s only for a while, though. I have to marry Lonli-Lokli right away. Shhhhh! It’s a deep, dark secret. Maybe you’ll let me come in after all?”
“I think it will be all right,” Melamori said, smiling. “Will you please explain to me what’s happening?”
“Of course I will. Two girls have to have a heart-to-heart chat about something. You know, I thought it would be hard for us to become friends, since . . . Well, you understand exactly what I mean. But being girls—it’s just right for a start. By the way, I’m Marilyn. I think it will be easier for you that way.”
“Oh yes, much easier.”
We went into the living room. Melamori suddenly began laughing in relief.
“Sit down, Lady Marilyn. It’s wonderful you’ve come! I wanted very much to see you.”
“Female intuition,” I grinned slyly. “It’s a formidable power. By the way, it tells me that you have some kind of souvenir from Uncle Kima around somewhere. What better time than now to let the drink flow freely? I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”
“Forever?” her voice expressed genuine anguish.
“Forever? Don’t get your hopes up. For a few dozen days in all.”
“Where?”
“To Kettari. Our chief succumbed to an attack of nostalgia and ordered us to dig up some cobblestones from the streets of his youth. Open your cache, sweetheart. When I have too much to drink, it will loosen my tongue and I’ll tell all. Honest I will.”
“Would you like to drink Gulp of Fate, Marilyn?” Melamori asked. I shuddered from the unexpectedness of it.
“Gulp of Fate? Hmm, it seems we’ve already tried that before.”
“I wonder where you could have tried that wine, Marilyn,” Melamori parried, as calm as ever. “It’s very rare.”
“It certainly is rare,” I laughed, feeling with surprise how the last heavy stone dropped from my heart. “Of course I’d like a drink. Who am I to refuse Gulp of Fate?”
“Wonderful.”
The ancient wine turned out to be dark, almost black, in color. Some hardly visible blue sparks played at the bottom of the glass.
“It’s a good sign, Marilyn,” Melamori said, tapping the edge of the glass with her finger. “Kima told me that these little flames appear only if the wine is being drunk by people who . . . how can I explain it. People between whom everything is
right
. Understand? Not ‘good,’ and not ‘bad,’ but
right
.”
right
. Understand? Not ‘good,’ and not ‘bad,’ but
right
.”
“I think I do understand. Only I have another way of saying it:
for real
. Am I expressing myself properly?”
for real
. Am I expressing myself properly?”
“If there’s one thing you and Max really know how to do, Marilyn, it’s express yourself ‘properly.’ Taste good?”
“You bet!”
“Then tell me your story. I can take an oath of silence if you wish.”
“I need no oath from you, Melamori. Just watch and listen. Lady Marilyn and I are real storytellers.”
And I narrated in great detail the story of the strange costume ball, with me starring as the beauty queen. Melifaro the lover was the hero of the finale.
“My goodness! I’ve never laughed so hard in my life!” Melamori said, wiping away tears. “Poor Melifaro. He has no luck with girls. You should have given him a chance, Marilyn. Where will you find another boy like him?”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ll take your advice into consideration. Look, it’s already getting light! Will you have time to get some sleep?”
“Oh, I’ll just be late for work. No big deal. I’ll tell Sir Juffin that I was giving you lessons in feminine wiles.”
“Yes, those will come in handy, considering who my future life companion is supposed to be.” I struggled to get up from the low divan. “I’m going to go get some sleep, Melamori. It’s time you did, too. Better too little than none at all.”
“It doesn’t matter how much, but how you sleep . . . And today I’ll sleep like the dead. Thank you, Marilyn. Please tell Sir Max that it was an excellent idea.”
“I’ll tell him,” I yawned and waved to her. “Good morning, Melamori.”
I’d like to note that Marilyn also slept like the dead, which hadn’t been the case for a long time with my good old friend Max. This girl had a first-rate heart of stone, much more reliable than mine.
At sundown I reported to the House by the Bridge. I had a suitcase with me that accommodated a large bottle of Elixir of Kaxar, masses of clothes (Lady Marilyn enjoyed shopping), and my enchanted pillow—“Stopgap in the Chink between Worlds,” in the words of my greatest benefactor, Sir Maba Kalox. Whatever might happen, setting out for the unknown without my one and only miracle-method for getting a normal cigarette just wasn’t my style.
Sir Juffin Hully was chatting animatedly with some middle-aged, suntanned blond fellow in a light-blue and white looxi. He had the appearance of a sports coach: muscular arms, ruddy complexion, and a stern, unsmiling expression. Unwilling to interrupt their conversation, I sent my chief a call.
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