The Stranger's Woes (31 page)

“Where are we going, by the way?” Melifaro asked.

“What do you mean? To your family estate, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I haven’t. But we should have made a turn a dozen minutes ago if we really wanted to get there.”

“A hole in the heavens above you, Ninth Volume!” I said, making a U-turn at full speed. “Why couldn’t you say so sooner?”

“I wanted to see if you’d figure it out. You see, my inquisitive mind strives to comprehend the incomprehensible. You, for instance. But then I figured that you were quite capable of driving us all the way to Landaland, so I had to stop my experiment. Don’t miss the turn
now
, or we’ll be driving up and down this blasted road until it’s time to go back to Echo.”

I pictured the amobiler plowing back and forth endlessly on the country road and laughed. Right then, my stupor dissolved and I was fine. Or was I?

“You’re not yourself today,” said Melifaro, looking at me with concern. “What is it? Is the crown too small, or is the robe itchy?”

“Your concern doesn’t suit you at all,” I said. “I’m always myself. Who else would I be? Just tired, that’s all. I’ve got so much work now. It feels like while I was gone, you guys weren’t doing anything except making notches on the table. Every last one of you. But don’t you worry, a couple of nights in your grandfather’s bedroom and I’ll be as good as new.”

“You will,” said Melifaro. “That’s for sure. Tell me, don’t you get a little sick of the air of mystery that surrounds you, Nightmare?”

“Yep,” I said.

Melifaro was so satisfied with my confession that he even went quiet. For no less than a dozen seconds. Then we arrived, and he had to open his mouth again to greet his father.

Sir Manga Melifaro was waiting for us at the gate. He hadn’t changed at all since the last time I saw him, except perhaps for his thick red braid, which had become even longer. Amazing, actually, how becoming this unusual hairstyle was to the renowned encyclopedist.

“Your brother has gone completely insane,” he informed his son, and then turned to me. “Good evening, Sir Max. I don’t believe my eyes. Have you really come to visit us?”

“I find it hard to believe myself, but it looks like I am here, indeed.”

“I went down on my hands and knees before this monster,” Melifaro said. “For three days in a row I groveled, begging him to honor our humble abode with his presence. I was doing it for you, Dad, so you’re forever in my debt. Which brother has gone insane, by the way?”

“Take a guess,” said Sir Manga, rolling his eyes like a martyr.

“Well, Anchifa stands the greatest chance of losing it. He’s more talented, and his life is full of adventure. Am I right?”

“But of course,” said the head of this unique family. “I came outside to greet you so we could discuss one matter in particular. I was going to send you a call, but I kept procrastinating. Then, when I saw your amobiler flying down the road a few inches above it, I realized that it was too late to send calls.”

“Flying?” I said. “Are you joking, Sir Manga?”

“I beg your pardon, Sir Max, but I am certain that the wheels were not always touching the ground. My compliment is thus based on facts.”

“So, what did my brother do this time?” said Melifaro.

“He brought a guest from Isamon, no less,” said Sir Manga. “And what a guest he is! You’ll soon see for yourself. He’s quite a phenomenon.”

“A guest? I don’t see anything unusual about it. It runs in the family. I mean, you’re no saint in that department, and look what I drag in,” said Melifaro, waving his hand in my direction.

I shook my fist in front of his nose. The fist, I’m afraid, was not hefty enough to inspire anyone with fear.

“Ah, but in half an hour you will see what I mean,” said Sir Manga. “We can’t kick him out, because he showed hospitality to our kinfolk in his homeland. Oh, how I wish Anchifa had spent that night out on the street! Your mother and I have reached the limits of our patience. She’s threatening to run away to her relatives in Uryuland right after she casts her eyes upon you for the last time. You know, wives have never left
me
before, and I’m too old to deal with this now. Son, I’m begging you, please take this honored guest with you to the Capital. Maybe he’ll get lost there. Echo is a big city, after all.”

“Is he that bad?” said Melifaro. “Good golly, who
is
this guy? I’m really curious now. At any rate, you don’t have to worry. If need be, I’ll take him away. It’s an old routine for Anchifa and me: he makes stupid mistakes, and I patch things up for him. But what does he think about it himself?”

“What do you think? Your brother couldn’t be happier. This fellow is worse than a dozen sea cadets, so Anchifa can let loose his foulest curses on him. The fellow himself seems absolutely indifferent to them. On top of everything else, he’s deaf. But we should go in to the dining room. I beg your pardon, Sir Max. I got carried away, talking about our family matters. It wasn’t very polite of me.”

“Oh, but it was very intriguing,” I said, smiling.

“Do not despair, Father. I brought a professional killer with me, so everything is going to be fine. We’ll bury his body in the garden. It won’t be the first time. Right, Max?” said Melifaro with an innocent look on his face.

“That may be one way out,” said Sir Manga pensively. “But only as a last resort. If he refuses to go to the Capital.”

“Sinning Magicians! He didn’t even notice I was joking,” Melifaro whispered in my ear in alarm.

“Were you?”

Now it was Melifaro’s turn to shake a fist in front of my nose. I heaved a sigh of envy: his fist looked much more intimidating than mine.

The dining room was empty. Sir Manga sat down at the dining table.

“We seem to be in luck. I suggest you help yourself to a little snack, boys. The night is short, so don’t miss your chance.”

“I always obey my elders,” I said, sizing up the multitude of dishes on the table.

“Oh, look at Mr. Do-Right here,” said Melifaro, and dug his teeth into a tempting pastry.

“You just got here and you’re already gobbling away! Way to go, brother. No need to keep your stomach and backside unemployed.”

A small, skinny man appeared in the doorway. I knew at first sight that he was one of those slight, sinewy men you don’t want to mess with. He could knock any opponent to the ground, weight category notwithstanding. On his head he wore a beautiful multicolored shawl, its ends almost touching the floor. A loose black looxi barely reached his knees—too short even by the fashion standards of the Capital. His checkered skaba wasn’t much longer and revealed a peculiar sight: the high tops of boots decorated with intricate designs.

Behind the man stomped the giant Baxba, the eldest of the brothers, whom I had had the pleasure of meeting during my previous stay. He greeted us very courteously, sat down comfortably in a large chair, and focused on food. I think Baxba was the only quiet, meek member of the family.

Melifaro gave a cry of delight and rushed up to hug Anchifa. It was some time before the brothers finished their greeting ritual and Melifaro decided to introduce me.

“Anchifa, this is Max. They hired Max so that I could sleep at night.” Then he turned to me. “You no doubt guessed that I was just embracing the terror of all shallow puddles, not to mention high seas, the irremovable stain of shame on the family name, and the only remaining hope of our father: Sir Anchifa Melifaro.”

“And I was about to think that this was the fruit of your secret visits to the Quarter of Trysts, Dad,” said Anchifa, chortling. “So, you’re not my newfound brother, then, sir? That’s too bad.”

“It’s quite possible, quite possible,” said Sir Manga. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. What do you think, Max? Perhaps the boy is right.”

“I’m afraid not. I’d love to join the ranks of your clan, but no more than twelve hours ago I learned that I’m a descendant of the King of the Lands of Fanghaxra.”

“This calls for a celebration!” said Anchifa, opening an enormous bottle made of dark-blue glass. He had already heaved himself onto the table. His left foot, clad in the beautiful boot, rested in a plate of cookies. Melifaro was starting to seem like a paragon of innocence compared to this brother of his.

“Have you lost your mind? No, seriously, are you crazy?”

An extremely long-nosed, slightly balding man then entered the dining room. I almost choked on my food when I saw his attire. He was wearing shiny red tights like a ballet dancer’s. The tights proudly and honestly exposed the chubby thighs of their owner, along with the curves of his very feminine bottom. The bizarre tights formed an effective contrast to his heavy boots and short leather jacket. I guffawed in the most disrespectful manner. To my surprise, Melifaro was completely calm.

“Haven’t you seen an Isamonian before?” he said, surprised. “They all dress like that.”

“That’s even funnier,” I said, gasping for breath.

“It even looks good on them,” said Sir Manga, lowering his voice. “Present company excluded, naturally.”

“But you’re all completely out of your minds! Simply out of your minds!” said the stranger, sitting down at the table.

He pronounced his
l’
s in a peculiar way, his voice was a bit nasal, and his diction and accent didn’t help matters. I couldn’t stop giggling. The stranger looked at me, offended.

“I don’t see anything funny here, sir. It’s not in the least bit funny. You’ve all lost your wits! There are guests in the house, I haven’t been introduced, and no one bothered to call me down for dinner. I’ve arrived, but the caravan left without me. This will not do! What kind of a place is this?”

“This is my place,” said Sir Manga sternly.

“What? Speak up. I’m a bit hard of hearing. If this happened back home in Isamon, elders wearing hats this big would have come down from the mountains.” He stretched his arms to show us the improbable dimensions of the hats in question. “Yes, they would have come down, and then there would be trouble. Trouble, I say!” He made several significant nods and then looked at me again. “I still don’t see what’s so funny. Pull yourself together, young man!”

“Where I come from, it’s customary to greet a stranger with loud laughter,” I said. “It demonstrates one’s joy at meeting someone. I’m just being polite, that’s all.”

Now it was Melifaro’s turn to laugh.

“All right,” said the stranger peaceably. “All right, I get it. My name is Rulen Bagdasys. I come from a family of highborn aristocrats, you know.”