The Stranger's Woes (70 page)

“Max,” said Kofa, who had just walked into the office. “If I were you, I’d go home to rest right away. Nothing is happening at the moment, and it would be a shame if you weren’t in tip-top shape tomorrow.”

“Do you think tomorrow it will start all over again? Even after you burned them?”

“If the one who turned those poor creatures into what we had to burn was any good at it, cremation isn’t going to stop them,” said Kofa.

“And I have reason to believe that whoever accomplished it was a true master.”

“Great. What are we going to do then?” I said, almost beside myself.

“I told the policemen to stay there and keep watch,” said Kofa. “If the undead should want to party once more, we’ll have to return and kill them again. And again. And again, until Juffin gets back. I’m sure he can put them to rest once and for all.”

“How about the Main Archive?” I said. “Has anyone tried looking in the Main Archive? Maybe the buriwoks know some way to—”

“What do you take us for?” said Melifaro. “Lookfi and I began digging for information yesterday. We spent all morning there, too. Nothing. Nada. Nothing even remotely similar has ever happened in this city before.”

“Okay, then, we’ll just have to wait for Shurf and Juffin.” I was beginning to come to terms with the fact that the disgusting extermination of zombies would become a daily routine, like morning exercise.

“Then I’d better go get cleaned up,” I said. “A sack of horse dung can’t be a deputy of the Venerable Head of the Minor Secret Investigative Force, as far as I know.”

“I am absolutely free tonight, so I can sleep in your chair,” said Kofa. “I’d be happy to hold down the fort.”

“Okay, but please send me a call if something happens,” I said. “My sense of responsibility requires me to take part in every collective sacrifice.”

“I will,” said Kofa.

The living dead, huh? I said to myself. The feeblest plot of the worst B movie. Why the heck should I be dealing with this plot every day when I had grown sick and tired of it long ago from TV?

This monologue cheered me up. Besides, I was visited by a vague, crazy thought, which hadn’t quite taken the form of an idea . . . Even a weed needs time to grow roots and become strong. A few days, though. No more.

The rest of the day I spent spiffing myself up and pulling myself together, and I took my time with it. There’s nothing more satisfying than playing the exhausted hero. If I had my way, I would do it day in and day out. But this time the play ended before midnight, when Kofa sent me a call.

Guess what, Max
.

Okay
,
I’m on my way
.
It’s getting worse
,
don’t you think? It’s happening more and more often now
.

You can say that again
.

This time, Kofa and I arrived at the Green Petta Cemetery at the same time. The policemen seemed much more frightened than they had been the day before, probably because it was happening at night. By the dim light of a sliver of moon, the group of naked creatures looked much spookier. Even I shuddered at the sight.

“You take it easy today, Max,” Kofa said. “You overexerted yourself yesterday. I can do it alone very easily.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second. Your method is much more efficient. You should teach me someday.”

“All in due time,” Kofa said. “You see, Magic that doesn’t drain your energy takes a long time to master.”

“I’m a quick learner,” I said.

“Are you, indeed? You have so many virtues, lad. Who would have thought? But today I’m going to go for something different. I think you’re going to like this trick even more. I daresay you haven’t seen anything quite like it before.”

From the pocket of his looxi Sir Kofa Yox produced a small pipe, examined it very carefully, and lit it up.

For a few minutes he just stood there smoking. I could only admire his deliberate puffing. Then I realized that all this time Kofa had only been inhaling. He hadn’t exhaled the smoke a single time.

Then Kofa walked toward the group of undead, who were shuffling around aimlessly. He stopped a few feet away from them and exhaled a cloud of thick reddish smoke. There was so much of it that it was as if a whole peat quarry were on fire inside Kofa’s chest. I closed my eyes instinctively, then opened them and saw the undead fall to the ground. In a matter of minutes, Kofa’s magic smoke had killed almost all of them.

“There’s that one with the earring again,” I said, spotting the reddish glow of metal. “You were right, Kofa. Burning them was absolutely pointless.”

“The worst part is that they’re coming more and more often now, as you may have noticed,” said Kofa. He wiped his forehead. “I shouldn’t have tried showing off. That trick with the smoke takes a lot of energy. And all that just to find out a few hours later that the trick was in vain. We need to think of something else. Pretty soon we’ll just have to move here permanently. Unfortunately, our almighty colleagues aren’t going to be back for a long time.”

“Maybe I can ask Lady Sotofa Xanemer to help us,” I said hesitantly.

“I’m afraid that she won’t be much help here. The Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover doesn’t like dealing with death and the dead. It’s not so much that that they loathe it as that they don’t know
how
to deal with it. It seems to be their only weakness.”

“Well, we’re out of luck, then. There is Sir Maba, of course.”

“Maba Kalox?” Kofa said. “He’s not too keen on helping Juffin out, even though they seem to be friends. But go ahead, try him.”

I sent a call to Maba Kalox.

Don’t fret
,
Max
.
Your problem is not a problem at all
.
In a few days’ time you’ll see for yourself
.

If I don’t fret
,
Echo will be crowded with undead very soon
.
The Echoers will be thrilled
,
I’m sure
.

You talk just like Juffin
.
Neither of you can stand Echoers
,
but the very thought of something threatening their dormant lives keeps you from sleeping at night
.
It’s up to you
,
though
.
If you fancy this storm in a teacup
,
who am I to stop you from making your own mistakes?

After that Maba Kalox fell silent. That was his way. Any further attempts to establish communication with him were fruitless and ended with me breaking out in a sweat.

“Kofa, you’re clairvoyant,” I said sighing bitterly. “Our magnificent Sir Maba Kalox said we shouldn’t fret because, you see, our problem is ‘not a problem at all.’ And that was that.”

“Maba Kalox never speaks idly,” Kofa said. “He’s very enigmatic and sneaky—and this time he’s being extremely sneaky. I wish I knew what he meant by that.”

“Maybe he meant to say we shouldn’t kill them anymore?” I said. “Maybe we should let them roam the streets and wait for something extraordinary to happen.”

“I’m afraid this is not the kind of experiment we can afford to make,” Kofa said. “But ‘don’t fret’ sounds very appealing to me.”

We went back to the House by the Bridge, waited for Melamori to arrive, planted her in Juffin’s chair, loaded the responsibility for everything in the world on her fragile shoulders, and went home. It was clear that we needed to use every opportunity we could to relax and get some rest.

Another call came at sunset. This time Kofa and I took Melifaro with us. The undead had begun to seem like annoying old acquaintances. The daily battle in the cemetery was a dull routine, and my feelings about it lacked so much as a hint of metaphysical trepidation.

“Wait a minute, guys,” I said. I thought I had found the solution to the problem. “What if we tried talking to them? How come we didn’t try it right away?”

Melifaro grinned, and Kofa shrugged.

“Because . . . Go ahead and try it.”

I approached a group of the undead. I looked for the one with the red earring. I almost thought of him as an old classmate.

“What’s the deal, guys?” I said. “Why do you keep rising from the dead? Maybe we can help you?”

My “classmate” with the earring stared into the distance, as if he didn’t even notice me. His buddies also ignored my interrogation.

“Well, say something already, darn you!” I said.

One of the undead shuddered, turned to me, and opened his toothless mouth. “U-u-u-u-u-uh,” said the creature very seriously.

“Thank you very much,” I said. “That was extremely informative.”

“I think the first round of diplomatic negotiations is over,” said Melifaro. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

And that’s just what we did. Several moments later it was finished. Or was it?

It’s like I’m being forced to act in the worst possible soap opera, I thought, as I drove my coworkers to the Right Bank, away from the Green Petta Cemetery that we had all grown to hate. How many times do we have to kill these repellent living dead? Where are my silver bullets? Wait, silver bullets only work against werewolves and vampires. How do you kill the undead? Sprinkle them with holy water?

That last idea seemed so good to me that I almost crashed into a large Vaxari tree that grew near the House by the Bridge. The daft idea vanished from my crazy head for the time being.

“Go get some rest, guys,” I said. “I’m on duty tonight. I have to be useful every now and then.”

“I don’t need any rest,” said Melifaro. “And I’m not in the mood for it.”

“Okay, you can stay, then. We’ll order a nice dinner, munch away the hours, and feel sad,” I said. “Kofa, do you want to join us?”

“No, thank you. I’m going to visit a few taverns and listen to what people are saying. Undead or not, life goes on. Who knows what may be happening in Echo?”

He passed his hands over his face. His new countenance remained immobile for a moment. Then his thick red eyebrow shot up in a sly arch.

“Bon appétit, boys. Have fun.”

“Fun is all we need now,” said Melifaro.

And then it dawned on me. Just like that, all of a sudden. The way it usually happens. “Sculptures . . . What are sculptures made of in Echo?”

“All kinds of materials,” said Kofa. “I’ve never been too keen on applied arts, however.”