The Stranger (53 page)
Authors: Max Frei,Polly Gannon
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Horror, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Epic
She gulped the stuff down mechanically and finally grew quiet. Even her sobs ceased. It was surprising that she was still alive at all.
Kurush was the only one capable of giving a full account of what had happened to the unfortunate visitor before she came to her senses. He was the sole witness of her surprise visit. I turned to him expectantly, and the buriwok conveyed the following information without a moment’s hesitation:
“My husband turned into a piece of meat, my husband turned into a piece of meat, my husband turned into a piece of meat.”
I looked at Kurush mournfully, then at the damsel, then at Kurush again, then—at the ceiling, which got in the way of the sky. Why, O Dark Magicians? I’m not such a bad person. You might even say I’m a very good person. So spare me, please!
The paltry “please” changed nothing. The madness progressed. Kurush kept up his refrain about a husband and meat. I knew that now he wouldn’t be quiet until he had scrupulously reported every word that had been spoken in my absence. Hearing her own monologue from the mouth of the talking bird, the lady made a reverse turn on the path toward tranquility and was soon back on the verge of hysteria. I forced another gulp of the black muck on her, and it helped. The poor woman raised her beautiful, forlorn eyes to me and whispered:
“It’s horrible, but in the bed there really is a huge piece of meat, and Karry is nowhere to be found.”
The buriwok finally fell silent. He seemed to be quite upset, too. I stroked his feathers gently.
“Good boy. What a smart fellow you are! Everything’s all right now. You were brilliant, Kurush. If I had known what was going on here, I wouldn’t have stayed away so long.”
Kurush puffed up in satisfaction. Sir Juffin Hully knew how to raise the most spoiled buriwok in the entire Unified Kingdom, though also the most kindhearted.
“People usually don’t come to the House by the Bridge on the Last Day of the Year,” he said. “So it’s not your fault, Max. It’s amazing you came back at all.”
I turned to the woman again.
“What is your name, my lady?”
She smiled through her tears. (Excellent, Max. You’re a real play-boy, Mantle of Death notwithstanding.)
“Tanita Kovareka. My husband is Karry—I mean Karwen—Kovareka. We have a little inn here in the Old City, the
Tipsy Bottle
. Maybe you know it? But now Karry—” and she burst into quiet sobbing again.
Tipsy Bottle
. Maybe you know it? But now Karry—” and she burst into quiet sobbing again.
“I think we ought to go to your house right away,” I said firmly. “You can explain everything along the way. If there’s anything you wish to explain, of course. You won’t object if we go on foot? As far as I know, it’s about ten minutes from here at the most.”
“Of course,” she said. “I could use some fresh air.”
Before leaving, I stroked Kurush again. Indulge him and indulge him some more—that’s the treatment both Juffin’s and my own heart insisted on.
The night’s warm velvety haze seemed to gather us into its comforting arms. Soon, Lady Tanita had almost calmed down. A person simply cannot suffer longer than she can suffer. When strength is exhausted, our attention turns to other things, whether we wish it to or not; and that is a great boon.
“Everyone’s always afraid of you, Sir Max, but I feel so peaceful in your presence.” Lady Tanita’s even embarrassed me with her compliments. “People gossip and say that Sir Venerable Head found you in the other world. Is that true?” she asked suddenly.
“Almost in the other world,” I confessed, trying to squirm out of this one. “On the border of the County Vook and the Barren Lands.”
“Too bad,” my companion sighed. “If it had been true, you would have been able to tell me how Karry was doing.”
Mr. Kovareka was a lucky man, I thought. Even if he were really dead, he had been wrapped in love and concern when he was alive, that much was certain.
“Don’t jump to conclusions yet, Lady Tanita,” I said, trying to console her. “Maybe nothing irreparable has happened.”
“It has!” she whispered. “It was not just an ordinary piece of meat, Sir Max. It was a piece of meat in the shape of a human being. And it was wearing Karry’s pajamas!”
Lady Tanita began sobbing again, but no tears fell from her eyes. She continued to talk, the only way she knew to relieve her pain.
“We were tired and went to bed very early. There were no customers. There are no customers anywhere tonight. Then I suddenly woke up. You know, Sir Max, I always wake up when Karry is in pain, or even when he’s thirsty. We’ve lived together a long time, now—I suppose that’s why. We married very young. Our parents objected, but they just didn’t understand. So I woke up absolutely certain that something was amiss with Karry. Then I saw that horrible piece of meat wearing his pajamas. There was even something resembling a face. Here we are, Sir Max. I don’t want to go up to the bedroom, though.”
“I’ll go upstairs alone. And you know what I suggest? If I were you, I’d find the company of my friends, or a relative, just in case worse comes to worst. Get them out of bed and tell them your sorrows. They’ll give you all kinds of potions, and finally you’ll grow tired of simple consolations and fall sound asleep. It may seem unbearable, but . . . it’s a way to keep from losing your mind. I’ll send you a call when I need to question you, but it will most likely not be before morning.”
“I’ll go over to Shattraya’s. She’s Karry’s youngest sister. Lady Shattraya Kovareka is her full name. She’s a good girl, and I’ll have to comfort
her
. And that’s better than . . . You’re a very kind person, Sir Max. Only a person who truly knows what pain is could give me such advice. Thank you.”
her
. And that’s better than . . . You’re a very kind person, Sir Max. Only a person who truly knows what pain is could give me such advice. Thank you.”
“Shall I accompany you?” I called into the darkness.
“Shattraya lives just on the next street over!” The faint voice of Lady Tanita melted away in the dull orange mist of the streetlights.
I went into the house through the relatively small living room. Of course, a large part of the house was occupied by the
Tipsy Bottle,
a cozy little restaurant whose atmosphere was completely incongruous with its silly name. I had been there once during the fall, I seemed to remember. I recalled that I had even chatted with the proprietor, a short, stocky man with an exceptionally thick crop of chestnut hair. At that time I wasn’t yet wearing the Mantle of Death, and I wasn’t constantly being bombarded with polite, strained smiles and terrified looks.
Tipsy Bottle,
a cozy little restaurant whose atmosphere was completely incongruous with its silly name. I had been there once during the fall, I seemed to remember. I recalled that I had even chatted with the proprietor, a short, stocky man with an exceptionally thick crop of chestnut hair. At that time I wasn’t yet wearing the Mantle of Death, and I wasn’t constantly being bombarded with polite, strained smiles and terrified looks.
I went upstairs. If only Lady Tanita had known that, without her, I was as scared as a child whose parents risk leaving him alone for the first time to go to the movies! But there was nothing I could do about it.
I threw open the door to the bedroom with a heavy heart. My nose was greeted by a smell of tasty food so unexpected that I froze in my tracks. Then I groped around for the light switch. A warm orange light filled the room. Here in Echo, special glowing mushrooms are often used for lighting streets and interiors. They multiply eagerly in special vessels like lampshades. The trick is that the mushrooms begin to shine when something irritates them. The light switch sets brushes in motion that gently but insistently tickle the mushrooms caps. They react instantaneously.
The orange hue of the angry mushrooms doesn’t appeal to everyone. Many esthetes prefer candles, or spheres with glowing blue gas. Sir Juffin Hully is partial to the latter. I got used to blue light when I lived with him, and I acquired the same kind of spheres for my own living quarters. But now the orange illumination also seemed sweet to me; the people who lived here thought so, too, apparently.
Thus, the mushrooms worked themselves into a temper, and I was able to glance around.
Something was lying in the middle of the fluffy carpet among the scattered blankets. That something was indeed dressed in garb resembling pajamas—a roomy skaba made of soft fabric. I had never taught myself to use this unappealing garment. To romp around in a skaba and looxi, that was one thing. But to sleep in a shapeless parachute of a thing that looked like your grandmother’s nightgown—excuse me! That was asking too much. And in a good bed, one must sleep in one’s birthday suit—a time-tested rule.
The mysterious “something” clearly belonged to the opposing camp, since it was wearing pajamas. Its resemblance to a human being seemed to stop there, however. In front of me was a real piece of meat, well-cooked and appetizing. It gave off a dizzying, tantalizing, and vaguely familiar aroma.
I inched closer. This was very trying on the nerves. I almost got sick, despite the wonderful aroma. The meat really did have the wretched face of a human being. The remains of its features were encircled by a halo of chestnut curls that even I recognized as belonging to Karwen, though I had only once laid eyes on him. Lady Tanita was right. There were no grounds for hoping otherwise.
“Sinning Magicians,” I exclaimed aloud. “Now what am I supposed to do!”
I went down to the living room, entered the dark restaurant, and poured myself a full glass of the contents of the first bottle I grabbed. I couldn’t make out the name of the drink in the darkness, but the taste wasn’t too bad. Then I stuffed my pipe with tobacco. The taste of the local tobacco didn’t matter at all—under the circumstances, it was better than nothing.
I sat alone at the bar in the light cast by the dim orange nimbus of the streetlight, sipping the anonymous drink, and smoked. This simple ritual was enough to restore some semblance of order to my thoughts. I realized there was no need to bother Melifaro, and especially not Sir Juffin. Let them catch up on their sleep. I’m not such a moron that I can’t handle these routine matters. It’s my job, after all.
Having resolved my moral deliberations, I went back to the bedroom. The tantalizing smell again seemed familiar to me. Where could I have smelled it before? Not in the
Glutton Bunba
, that’s for sure. The smell in the
Glutton
is unique: sharper and spicier. Certainly not in the
Sated Skeleton
, which delivered my breakfast every morning. And not . . . it remained just out of reach. It didn’t smell like my grandmother’s kitchen. Although . . . I finally went completely astray, as so often happens when you try to fish out a single kernel in the rice pudding of your memories.
Glutton Bunba
, that’s for sure. The smell in the
Glutton
is unique: sharper and spicier. Certainly not in the
Sated Skeleton
, which delivered my breakfast every morning. And not . . . it remained just out of reach. It didn’t smell like my grandmother’s kitchen. Although . . . I finally went completely astray, as so often happens when you try to fish out a single kernel in the rice pudding of your memories.
Abandoning this olfactory wild-goose chase, I dug into my pockets for the dagger. The gauge mounted on the handle showed evidence of magic of the second degree. This was not only officially permitted, but also absolutely logical, since I was in the presence of the remains of a restaurant proprietor. And who is more adept at practicing permissible Black Magic than a chef? This modest degree of conjuration, in my humble opinion, was nowhere near potent enough to transform a human being into something like what I saw before me. Fine, we’d deal with that question later. Now I had to remove the body to the House by the Bridge, I reasoned, because that was the proper procedure. Further, I couldn’t bear thinking of that abomination in the marital bower. Sooner or later the sweet Lady Tanita would return. What an incompetent figure I’d cut if she had to see that gruesome piece of meat again!
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