The Stranger's Woes (75 page)

I put down the empty cup on the table and went to get dressed. I needed to take a walk and collect my thoughts, which I can’t really do when I’m sitting still. I’m much better at it when I’m on the move.

When I went into the hallway I realized I didn’t have any warm shoes. Of course, I had been wearing my one and only pair of boots when I boarded the streetcar that had taken me to the wonderful Capital of the Unified Kingdom. Now they were lying there in one of my numerous closets—a souvenir of sorts from the homeland. I had no choice but to put on a pair of canvas sneakers—not exactly the footwear one would choose for walking in a cold November drizzle. I was lucky I hadn’t taken my coat with me, as well.

After thinking about it, I decided to buy new shoes. I wasn’t what you would call wealthy in this World, far from it, but at least I didn’t have to economize, praise be the Magicians. I still had no idea how I was going to get out of here, but one thing I knew for certain: I wasn’t going to stay here for long. No way. Besides, I was worried that my honestly earned talents might pave the way for a brilliant career in crime. One Lethal Sphere, and any bank teller would be willing to throw millions at my feet. Sure beats robbing 7-Elevens with women’s tights pulled over your head.

By the time I got to the shoe store, my feet had turned into thick, barely usable frozen clumps. This informed my choice of new shoes. I had two basic considerations in mind. Number one, they must be warm. Number two, they must be very warm. And in addition to that, they had to be warm and waterproof. I didn’t even give a thought to the price. I shelled out almost half of my savings for the new shoes. I threw my old sneakers away in a garbage can and grinned. If there was anything I’d never be able to get used to again, it was poverty.

I tried to estimate how much I was being paid in Echo for the services I rendered to His Majesty King Gurig VIII. I got mixed up for a few moments, numbers dancing around in my head, while I tried to figure out what the purchasing power of one Unified Kingdom Crown was. Finally, I arrived at some astronomical number: my salary was about a million US dollars or more a year.

Well, that’s the most persuasive reason for returning as soon as possible, I thought, going back out into the unpleasant drizzle. Where else can you get paid that much to do your favorite work?

I wandered around aimlessly. The city where I had lived for several years now seemed a very strange place. High-rises, asphalt sidewalks, the roar of the engines of public buses—it all looked surreal. Most peculiar of all (and, frankly, very annoying) were the faces of the passersby. I had already gotten used to the faces of the inhabitants of another World. Compared to them, the faces of my compatriots looked quite unattractive, although I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly was different about them.

Walking outside hadn’t calmed me down. On the contrary, at some point I felt even worse. I had just gone down into an underpass. When I stepped on the dirty concrete floor of that dreadful catacomb, I understood the full horror of my situation. It was clear to me that I had no idea how I was going to return to Echo. It looked like I had only had a one-way ticket. Goodbye, my hopes. Fare ye well, and please tell Sir Juffin Hully that he got mixed up with a total moron. Now, could you please try not to make too much noise driving nails in my brand-new coffin? Thank you.

The pain in my chest returned and brought me to my senses. Both of my hearts went crazy and attacked each other like fighting roosters. I think I must have been crying. In any case, some unidentified wet substance was making its way down my cheek. A fat woman in a red coat looked at me like I was mad, and gave me a wide berth. I
was
mad. Completely insane. Insane in the membrane.

It took me only a few seconds to hit rock bottom in the final circle of my very own hell. But when I did, my spirits soared. I remembered that I had my personal Door between Worlds in this city: the wonderful, handy little streetcar that was probably still running down Green Street. If I remembered correctly, Sir Maba Kalox had said that the Door was still open. Of course, a maniac murderer had once used it, and Juffin and I hunted for him high and low throughout Echo. But if he could use it, there was all the more reason I could, too. After all, the Door had been created for
me
. It shouldn’t be a problem for me to use it again.

I laughed with relief. It looked very much like a fit of hysterics. Passersby, I’m sure, were amused, but I ignored their mistrustful looks. Someone’s magnanimous hand was wiping off the writing above the Gates of Hell, the writing that read “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.” It turned out that the dire warning had been written in plain chalk, not in letters of fire. My future again glowed with the bright lights of a fair. Hopes that had almost gone were now returning like swallows to their nests in spring. My head was spinning, this time because I was happy. I had to crouch down on my haunches—this sudden change of spirits had drained me of strength.

“Are you all right, young man?” A pleasant middle-aged woman was nudging me. “Are you all right?” she said.

“Don’t pay any attention to me,” I said. “I’ve simply gone mad. It happens sometimes.” And I laughed again.

“I’ve never seen anyone so happy about such a turn of events. Well, I guess you’re going to be fine, since you haven’t lost your optimism,” she said.

Her voice sounded familiar. No, not her voice but the intonations. Did I speak like that sometimes?

I raised my head to look at her, but she had already gone. Dozens of people were walking past me, and a dog was barking somewhere nearby. A moment later I realized the dog was barking at me. An angry man in a sweatsuit was trying to restrain a huge German shepherd on a leash. The hairs on the dog’s back were standing on end. I shuddered, got to my feet, and went up into the street.

The rain had almost stopped. I walked slowly down the street slowly toward my house. I felt calm and light. I knew what I had to do, and I was not going to waste another minute. This walk did me a great deal of good, I thought, and now it’s time to go back. After all, I had promised Melifaro that he wouldn’t even begin to miss me. I had to keep my word.

I was very hungry and bought a hotdog. There was too much fat in the hotdog, and the bun was tasteless. I ate about half of it and threw the rest on the sidewalk. The bun attracted the attention of several sparrows, and a large bold crow hopped over to it. It was sure the hotdog belonged to it alone, and was now pondering how to bring this idea home to the sparrows. I smiled and walked away. Inside me, everything was peaceful and quiet. This mood was not really in keeping with the circumstances of my official visit to my homeland, but I deserved a break.

I returned home and opened my small, shabby refrigerator. The failed culinary experiment with the hotdog on the street had only stimulated my appetite. Fortunately, I found cheese and some vegetable in the fridge. Nothing too exciting, but it was better than the disgusting hotdog.

After my little snack, I turned on the coffee maker again. While the alchemy of turning bitter and inedible seeds into a heavenly drink was taking place in the corner of the kitchen, I decided to experiment with Silent Speech. After my trip to Kettari with Lonli-Lokli, I knew that sending a call to someone in another World was virtually impossible.
Virtually
, however, did not mean
absolutely
. The question was: Whom should I start with?

Most of all I wanted to talk to Juffin, but that was clearly outside the realm of possibility. If time in the Unified Kingdom flowed at the same pace as it did here, Juffin was still trying to appease the mysterious Spirit of Xolomi. On the other hand, if time in each World had a mind of its own . . . Should I try it? I thought. But my second heart, the origins of which were still a mystery to me, had already contracted, suggesting that my attempt would fail. I could relax: that wise muscle was a very good adviser.

Then I remembered Sir Maba Kalox. The powerful, retired Grand Magician was an experienced traveler between Worlds. Maybe he’d want to chat with me as a fellow voyager? We could discuss a few common professional issues. I listened to the radar of my heart, but this time it was puzzled and silent. Perhaps it had no idea how the experiment would end.

I wasted almost half an hour trying to reach Sir Maba. This resulted in little more than a great quantity of perspiration spread evenly across the surface of my body.

I gave up with loud sigh of desperation and poured myself some coffee. What a marvelous concoction it was! It was the only thing I truly missed in the Unified Kingdom—although, come to think of it, there had been a brief but memorable time when I had had excellent coffee almost every day, thanks to Mackie Ainti, the old sheriff of Kettari. I remember him calling my favorite beverage “liquid tar,” and asking me if I’d get sick from drinking it. Still, he was kind enough not to deny me a second helping. Hold on a minute . . . But of course! Mackie Ainti. Why didn’t I think of him before? Mackie was the only person whose help I knew I could rely on in any World.

Mackie was . . . Frankly, I didn’t really know who he was, that man with the red mustache and a face that was already a little blurry in my memory. I didn’t doubt for a second that it would be easy for him to chat with me no matter where I was. The only thing that mattered was his mood, which worked in mysterious ways.

I put the cup aside and took a careful look at my reflection in the dim TV screen. The eyes of my distorted reflection shone with a cold light that frightened me. That was probably a good thing, I thought. A man with a pair of ordinary, dull eyes would hardly be capable of discussing the technical details of a magical journey from one World to another with an inhabitant of that other World.

I sent a call to Sir Mackie Ainti. Almost immediately I felt crushed by an immense weight, as though I had temporarily switched places with the muscle-bound Atlas said to support the heavens. But I was happy: the sensation was almost identical to what I had experienced when I communicated with Mackie on my return trip from Kettari to Echo. One doesn’t forget such things easily.

Tough
,
huh?
Mackie’s Silent Speech betrayed a hint of compassion.
My apologies
,
Max
,
but I can be a pretty overwhelming interlocutor
.
Then again
,
everybody’s got his faults
.
You’re in trouble
,
I reckon?

I suppose I don’t have to tell you much
.
You probably know it all already
.

More or less
.
Your World took you back
.
It happens
.