The Stranger's Woes (41 page)

“Of course you are, but you are not familiar with the city. In addition, you are not familiar with the tricks and habits of the citizens of Echo. If you act on your own, you will lose a great deal of time. Besides . . . tell me, Sir Allirox, can you recognize Mudlax if he changes his face?”

“I don’t understand,” said Aloxto dryly. “How can someone change his face? Everyone should be content with his own face. This is not a choice.”

I must say that the phrase “everyone should be content with his own face” sounded somewhat disingenuous coming from him. It was easy for him to say.

“Show him, Kofa,” said Juffin.

Sir Kofa Yox nodded and passed his hands over his own thoroughbred face. A moment later, a completely unfamiliar countenance was staring at us. This time, the Master Eavesdropper had turned into a lop-eared, snub-nosed young man with large blue eyes and a wide frog-like mouth. I think he chose such an unappealing appearance precisely to make a point.

Aloxto was taken aback. He stared at Sir Kofa so intently that it seemed he was trying to make the apparition go away by the power of his will. A few moments later, Aloxto managed to come to his senses.

“You are a great shaman,” he said to Sir Kofa with admiration. Then he added dismissively, “But Mudlax can’t do that.”

“Perhaps Mudlax can’t, but . . . watch this.”

Sir Kofa turned to Melamori, who was sitting beside him, and moved his hands down her face. Now, a wrinkly old lady with a disproportionally large nose and little beady eyes was sitting before us. Everybody laughed. Melamori produced a pocket mirror, looked at it, and shook a small but menacing fist at Sir Kofa. Aloxto Allirox looked like he might faint dead away.

“Now do you see why Mudlax doesn’t have to know how to do this? All he needs to do is find someone who can. And trust me, there are plenty of people who can in Echo,” said Sir Kofa, and took a sip of kamra from his mug.

“You are indeed a great shaman,” muttered Aloxto. “Will you now give this woman back her face? It was beautiful, much more beautiful than the one you just gave her.”

“You’re mixed up,” Melifaro intervened. “This mug
is
her real face. The lady simply borrowed the pretty face you were so fond of for the occasion. The poor thing is over eight hundred years old, so we’ve learned to be understanding of her whims.”

“Is that so?” said Aloxto. He was visibly upset.

“He’s lying,” said Melamori. “Sir Kofa, give me back my face right now!”

“Here you go,” said Kofa. With an air of nonchalance he restored it. “Say, were you scared, girl?”

“Scared? What nonsense. It’s just that I find it more convenient to be young and beautiful than old and ugly.” She turned to Aloxto. “Melifaro always lies. Don’t listen to him.”

Now Aloxto was completely confused. He was blinking nonstop.

“I wonder what they do with liars in Arvarox,” I said. “I’m sure they kill them on the spot, don’t they, Sir Aloxto?”

Suddenly, Kurush flew up from the back of Juffin’s chair, where he had been sleeping all this time, and landed on the armrest of Aloxto’s chair. “Here in Echo people often speak untruths,” the buriwok said. “You will have to get used to it. Sometimes they speak untruths only to have a good laugh. They like it, so don’t pay any attention to it. They meant no harm to you or the lady.”

Kurush returned to his place on Juffin’s chair, and Aloxto nodded. “I understand,” he said. “Everyone has his own customs.” But to be perfectly sure, he asked Melamori, “Are you sure you have not been offended or hurt, my lady?”

“Sinning Magicians, of course not! And if they did hurt me, I would’ve shown them. Trust me.”

Aloxto looked at her in disbelief, but decided not to object.

“Tell me, Sir Allirox,” said Juffin, “how long has it been since that filthy Mudlax left the land of Arvarox? I need to know when he might have turned up in Echo.”

“Seventeen and a half years ago,” said our guest. “One needs about half a year to cross all the oceans, so this man, whose name is not worthy of mention, came to your land around seventeen years ago. I am sorry that I cannot be more precise.”

“You don’t need to be any more precise than that,” said Juffin.

“And you waited all these years before setting off to chase him?” said Melamori, surprised.

“That is correct,” said Aloxto. “Why is this surprising? Throughout these years there has been not a single day that was auspicious for setting off on a long journey. That is why we had to stay home.”

“And what about Mudlax? Did he manage to leave on an auspicious day?” I said.

“No. He was in such a hurry to take his miserable body away from Arvarox that he didn’t confer with the shaman. Thus, I am sure we will find him with ease. Such an imprudent journey could not have reached a favorable outcome.”

“I see,” said Juffin. “I think it’s time we got down to business. Correct me if I’m wrong, Sir Allirox, but as I understand it, your duty dictates that you take action even if the chances for success are negligible?”

“That is correct,” said Aloxto. “It is true, I cannot sit and do nothing, and wait for a favorable result. It’s easier to die.”

“Well, I hope it won’t come to that,” said Juffin, shaking his head. “I want your men to guard all the city gates. Two fifties of them should do the job nicely. Tell them to keep an eye on everyone leaving the city. Mudlax has disguised himself, but your men can feel him, right?”

“If my Sharptooths see Mudlax, they will recognize him,” said Aloxto with a nod. “They are warriors and this is their job—to sense the enemy.”

“Very well, then. Now, since you don’t know where the gates are, you’ll need a guide. Kofa, can you disguise yourself as a man from Arvarox?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. Do it, then. It will look very natural if Sir Allirox walks in the company of one of his compatriots. And Sir Allirox, you can’t find a better guide than Sir Kofa Yox. In the meantime, we’ll stick to your plan.”

“Take heed of the advice of your companion, my son,” said Kurush, looking at Aloxto indulgently. “He is indeed a very wise man.”

“Thank you, my friend,” said Sir Kofa Yox, flattered. He stroked the buriwok gently, massaged his own face, and suddenly turned into a handsome young yellow-eyed man. Aloxto Allirox stared at him, his eyes and mouth wide open.

As soon as the two had left, Juffin began issuing orders.

“Melifaro, we’ll need the help of the best policemen. Head straight to their half of the building and assemble them. You, Max, go with him. Your task is to talk Boboota into it. If he sees me, he’ll start whining about an official warrant signed by the king, and then, being the stool pigeon that he is, he’ll go spreading lies about me again in his reports. With you, on the other hand, he’s as tame as a kitten.”

“That’s true,” I said. “General Boboota and I are soul mates. But you’re going to have to wait a bit. I’m sure he’s expecting the promised present from me.”

“Oh, the smoking logs?” said Melifaro.

“They’re called cigars,” I said with a sigh. “Hold on. Give me a minute or two. I’ll try my best.”

I stuck my arm under the table, trying to find the Chink between Worlds, an inexhaustible source of exotic treats and complete garbage. Almost immediately, my hand became numb. This was a good sign that I hadn’t forgotten my best trick ever.

A few moments later, I threw a pink umbrella into a corner of the room. Somehow I ended up pinching umbrellas from the Chink between Worlds more often than anything else. My colleagues looked at me with silent veneration. Even Juffin’s eyes showed genuine interest. I sighed and tried again.

This time I tried to focus. I thought about cigars and people smoking cigars: portly elderly gentlemen with gray sideburns, lounging in leather armchairs and looking down at the rest of world from the unreachable heights of their capital. Then I dumped that image and tried thinking about the members of the board of directors of a company I used to work at part time. Almost immediately I saw those clean-shaven fops, not much older than myself, wearing expensive jackets, smoking cigars at the end of a business lunch, when an imperturbable waiter brought them tiny cups of coffee and slightly warm cognac in fat, fogged-up glasses. At some point I thought I could spot the ever-so-slightly noticeable spots on one of their shiny, greasy cheeks, and was surprised at my own gloating delight over this discovery.

“Max, don’t overdo it! Where do you think you’re going?” Sir Juffin Hully was shaking my shoulder. He looked pleased but a little perplexed.

I looked around, slightly puzzled myself. Then I retrieved my numb arm from under the table. A wooden humidor fell on the floor.

“Ugh, Sumatran,” I said with disgust after reading the label. “I knew those fops were too cheap to shell out some cash for a box of real Cubans.” I turned to Juffin. “But I did it! I really wanted to get cigars, not a blasted umbrella, and I did it!”

“You’re getting good at it. Sir Maba will be more than pleased. He was sure it would take you at least a dozen years to master this trick.”

The others looked at me as if I were a new acquisition in the city zoo—with cautious curiosity, trying to figure out if I would bite their hand off if they tried to feed me.

“Where did these strange objects under our table come from?” asked Lookfi Pence all of a sudden. “Have they been lying there a long time? Our janitors have become far too lazy lately.”

Then Melifaro and I set out to visit our venerable police force. I slowed down by the office of Boboota Box. Some incomprehensible exclamations were coming from behind the closed door.

“Something about outhouses,” I said tenderly. “Sinning Magicians, just like the good old days.”

“Okay, you go ahead and talk to your soul mate, and I’m going to enjoy a conversation with some more intelligent people,” said Melifaro. “To each his own.”

“If you keep teasing me like that, I’m not going to give you a fur hat like the one Rulen Bagdasys has,” I said menacingly.

Melifaro laughed and went to meet some “intelligent people.” I threw open the door to Boboota’s office. To my surprise, he was there alone. I had thought that the brave police general was reprimanding one of his subordinates, but I was wrong: he was talking to himself.

“Bull’s tits! Who the hell is there?” Boboota roared. Then he looked up, saw me, and shut up with a guilty look on his face.

“That’s all right, sir,” I said. “One can’t go against one’s nature, right? I just stopped by to lift your spirits.”

“You, Sir Max? Lift my spirits?” Boboota was stupefied.

“Uh-huh.” I put the humidor down on the table in front of him. “Just got it in the mail this morning. It’s from my relatives in the Kumon Caliphate. You did like these, didn’t you?”

“I did like them very much!” Boboota smiled at me in ecstasy. He opened the humidor, grabbed a cigar, and began to fumble with it impatiently. He almost wept with emotion. “You saved my life again, Sir Max! How can I repay you?”

“Funny you should ask,” I said with a smile, “because today is the day you can do it. I need the help of your best policemen, and right away. We’ll be happy to do all the paperwork, but it’ll take about two days. So, what do you think? Can you and I arrange it so that your boys start working for us now, and the paperwork—”

“Oh, forget about the paperwork. Flush it down the toilet!” said Boboota. “What paperwork can there be between friends, Sir Max! Take as many of my boys as you wish. Take them all.”