The Stranger (27 page)
Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic
Soon Sir Kofa poked his head into Juffin’s office. He said he was just passing by and decided to drop in to find out how things were, because there were amazing rumors making the rounds in the city. For instance, it was said that Juba Chebobargo was the leader of a gang of midgets. And Mister Venerable Head had apparently killed Tolakan Enn, former Heir to the Throne, with his bare hands, because of some debt at cards from way back. And he knocked off the wife of the victim while he was at it. He then falsified the report, to the effect that the Enns were involved in forbidden black magic and were penpals with two dozen Rebel Magicians.
“Nice rumor,” Juffin said with a grin. “There’s a moral to be learned from it. People should remember it’s best to pay their gambling debts on time!”
But the real joke of the day was sir Boboota Box, who, despite his serious injuries, had already written up an official report in which he said that the “city police were following up on a lead that could result in solving the mystery of the recent robberies that had been taking place in Echo.” Luckily for Boboota, his more intelligent subordinates were in no great hurry to send the letter and prudently saved their boss from embarrassment.
Juffin spent the rest of the evening telling everyone about our adventures. I almost fell asleep in my chair, lulled by the warmth, my own full stomach, and the opportunity to hear the story of my own adventures recounted so thrillingly, even though the story was horrifying.
“Sir Max, I am sending you home,” Juffin announced. “All the mysteries have been solved, and all the pastries have been eaten. What you really need now is to sleep for twenty-four hours without a single nightmare.”
“I have no objections to that,” I said with a smile, “but I have one last question. Sir Melifaro, do you have any cats at your estate?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“I promised myself that when this ordeal was over, I would get myself a kitten. But since two missions have come to a close at the same time, I’ll need two kittens.”
“I could give you a dozen if you ask; but tell me what do plan to do with them? Do you eat them?”
“We Border Dwellers eat anything!” I announced. Then, taking pity on my nonplussed colleagues, I said, “I’m going to stroke them, and they are going to purr. Those, I believe, are the ideal relations between humans and cats.”
Home, sweet home. My nightmares were over, and I was exhausted by the ordeal I had been through. I lay down in bed and stretched so exquisitely that I almost cried with joy. I slept, not like a baby, but rather like a bear in its den. And I only came to on the evening of the following day. I was hungry. Unlike a member of genus
ursus
, I lacked a layer of fat to sustain me.
ursus
, I lacked a layer of fat to sustain me.
An hour later, there was a knock at my door. It was the young courier from the Ministry of Perfect Public Order.
“A package from Sir Melifaro for Sir Max,” the boy reported, and handed me an enormous basket. I could hardly lift it. Closing the door after the courier, I removed the ornate blanket that covered the basket. Two dark fuzzy creatures with bright blue eyes were peering out at me. I took them out of the basket. Each of them weighed more than a grown cat in my homeland! I studied them carefully. The black one was a boy, and the coffee-colored one was a girl. The kittens seemed possessed by an utter calm that bordered on extravagant laziness. Naturally, plump as they were! I was so thrilled with my acquisition that I sent a call to Melifaro.
Thanks, buddy! The beasts are awesome! Totally awesome!
Sinning Magicians, Max. You speak so oddly when you use Silent Speech, who would have known . . . They’re just cats, no big deal. Bon appétit!
What else was I expecting to hear? I named the boy Armstrong and the girl Ella. The idea came to me when they reminded me in their low-pitched mews that animals must be fed. My pets definitely knew how to croon. And in the old days, before I was Sir Max of Echo, I used to like listening to a bit of old jazz.
CHAPTER THREE
CELL NO. 5-OW -NOX
T
HERE’S A SIGN I ALWAYS WATCH FOR: BEFORE EVERY MAJOR CASE, everything goes quiet in the House by the Bridge. If I find myself dozing for several nights in a row in my armchair, my feet up on the desk, it means that some hullabaloo or other will soon be in full swing.
HERE’S A SIGN I ALWAYS WATCH FOR: BEFORE EVERY MAJOR CASE, everything goes quiet in the House by the Bridge. If I find myself dozing for several nights in a row in my armchair, my feet up on the desk, it means that some hullabaloo or other will soon be in full swing.
And, in point of fact, I don’t mind. Serving in the Secret Investigative Force isn’t yet just a routine for me. And if everything continues the way it’s going now, it’s unlikely that it ever will be.
When urgent matters crop up (and there are more of them than there are agents), my personal time-frame stops coinciding with the pace of the hands on the clock. Sometimes I seem to live through a few years in just one day; but at the end of the day I’m not any older.
I like this. I’m hungry for life. Even those several hundred years that are almost guaranteed to every inhabitant of this World seem like a very short allotment of infinity to me. I admit, hand on heart, that I just want to live forever—preferably without becoming too decrepit, though being old doesn’t really frighten me. If you take one look at Juffin or at Sir Kofa, you understand that solid old age is rather an advantage than a burden.
That morning Sir Kofa Yox showed up exactly ten seconds earlier than Juffin. During that time he managed to sit down in a chair, wipe the workaday mask off his face (low forehead; long, fleshy nose; high cheekbones; sensitive lips; double chin), and stretch sweetly, with a bit of creaking here and there.
As though agreeing with his colleague, Sir Juffin gave a leisurely yawn in the doorway. He planted himself in his chair, and yawned again—a protracted one, mingled with a little squeal. These things are highly contagious: I too started to yawn, although I hadn’t slept too poorly on the job that night. In fact, I felt completely rested. Finding a night job was all it took to help a night owl like me switch to the ordinary schedule of most of humanity.
I could have gone home if I wanted to. I even should have. But I had already decided beforehand to drink a mug of kamra in the company of my senior colleagues, because I know how they work: as soon as I leave, they start talking about The-Most-Interesting-Things-In-The-World. No more missing out on that! These days you had to drag me off duty by force.
“Judging by what a rotten sleep I had last night, we could arrest the entire population of Echo for abuse of forbidden magic,” Juffin spluttered angrily, gulping down half the mug of kamra at one go. “Only where could we lock them all up? There aren’t that many free cells in Xolomi.”
“That bad?” Kofa asked, frowning skeptically.
“Worse than bad. Every time I started to doze off, another misuse of magic signal would sound, and I’d just about jump through the roof. I was cursed to be born with such sensitive ears. What’s been going on, Kofa, do you have any idea? The Let’s Make Potions Festival, featuring members of all the Ancient Orders?” The boss drank down the rest of his kamra with an indignant slurp, then proposed with obvious relish, “Is it possible that I have slept through a government revolt?”
From the depths of his chair, Sir Kofa observed Juffin’s fuming with paternal benevolence. He waited until he was quiet then permitted himself to launch into an explanation.
“I feel for you, Juffin, but it wasn’t really that entertaining. In fact, it was rather sad.”
“It sure must have been. Well, don’t keep me on tenterhooks! What happened?”
“What’s there to say that you don’t know already? Old Sir Fraxra is in very bad shape. The wisemen are absolutely powerless to help—after all the fellow’s already over 1,000 years old. Not every magician lives that long and Fraxra was just a young novice of some bedraggled Order. They booted him out of there pretty quickly, too, and found him a position at Court. That’s where the matter ended.”
“Yes, I know all that. Did the old man really decide to try to prolong his existence? There’s something suspicious about it. He’s a sensible man, and he’s well aware of his own limits.”
“He is, indeed, a very sensible man. Sensible enough to understand that there are things you have to part with in due course in the World before leaving it. The household staff and servants adore him. Including the cook.”
Juffin’s face brightened.
“Ah, yes. Sir Shutta Vax, the youngest son of the legendary Vagatta Vax, Head Chef of the Court of Gurig VII. The one who retired after the Code of Krember was introduced.”
“And right he was to do so, too. Old Cuisine is Old Cuisine, after all. A kitchen wizard like Vagatta Vax—what would he do without magic of the 20th or 30th degree? Boss around the kitchen boys? I think not.”
“But Shutta learned a thing or two from his daddy, from what I understand,” Juffin mused.
“But of course. You know that Shutta Vax would go through hell and high water for his old master. And to break the law a little for the dying Sir Fraxra with a speciality of the family house is the least he could do. In short, last night a Chakkatta Pie was born. And the nocturnal merrymakers kept their noses to the wind without knowing why themselves.”
“I forgive him for my troubled sleep,” said Juffin. “The young fellow, of course, found you and asked you to put in a good word for his blasted noggin?”
“Shutta Vax did, in fact, find me and warn me that he was going to break the law,” said Sir Kofa. “His loyalty to the King, of course, is hereditary, not a matter of conviction. The fellow decided to save us the extra trouble. He said that if we considered it necessary to send him to Xolomi, he was ready for it. He requested only that we wait until morning, so he could feed the old man—then off to the executioner’s block he’d go.”
“That wily old fox knows that Juffin will never lay a hand on a kitchen magician. Well, I only hope that Sir Fraxra dies happy. I wish I could be in his shoes!”
“Shutta really is counting on your kindness. And as a sign of his gratitude, he decided to share responsibility with you,” said Sir Kofa. He drew a box out from the folds of his looxi and handed it to Juffin.
Juffin accepted the box as though it were a priceless treasure. I swear I have never seen such a reverent expression on his face! He lifted the lid and carefully folded down the sides of the box to reveal an enormous piece of pie. It looked like a neat triangle of the purest amber, gleaming from the inside with a warm light. Juffin’s hands trembled, honest to Magicians! With a sigh, he took a knife and sliced off a thin piece.
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