The Stranger's Woes (52 page)

Juffin followed close behind me. “Finally, this Mudlax case is getting interesting,” he said searching his pockets for his pipe. “It’s high time it did.”

There was no one in the house of the late Sir Varixa Ariama, the former Senior Magician of the Order of the Brass Needle.

“I’d like to know where his son’s gone,” I said.

“Good question, Max. A very good question,” said Juffin. “I think we’ll soon find out many things and get answers to many questions, including that one. But where’s Lady Melamori? She should be here already.”

“I am.” Melamori was standing at the threshold. “For your information, I had to come here all the way from the New City. You should be proud of me.”

“We are, we are,” said Juffin in a placating voice. “Look around the house, my lady. Somewhere here there should be the trace of a very powerful Magician. Can you distinguish it from the rest?”

“Pfft. Easy peasy,” said Melamori. “Max, don’t just stand around loafing. As if you can’t do it yourself—I know you can. And don’t tell me I’m unique and irreplaceable because I’m not going to believe that.”

“But you know how lazy I am,” I said.

“Sir Max is loafing because as a Master of Pursuit he poses too great a danger for the suspects,” said Juffin. “And I need our client alive and well. I prefer to get information from the original source. It would be sad if our monster’s trail ended at the clean-picked skull of his poor victim. Besides, Max is too inexperienced to distinguish the trace we’re looking for from others. So you
are
unique and irreplaceable, Melamori.”

“Well, if you say so, I’ll do it,” said Melamori, flattered.

She took off her shoes and walked around the living room.

“Okay, this is the trace of the late Sir Varixa Ariama . . . This is Shurf’s, and this is mine—I was here yesterday, too. Some other traces, nothing interesting. Maybe Baguda Maldaxan’s boys. Oh, and here’s where that ‘filthy Mudlax’ must have been hanging around. I told you that the trace of any Arvaroxian is different from the rest. Not significantly, but it is . . . Okay, here’s someone else’s trace, but he’s not the one you’re looking for. It seems he’s very ill, but I may be wrong.”

“Must be Ariama Junior’s,” I said.

“Possible,” said Juffin. “We’ll have to talk to him, too, but that can wait. I saw the young man. No Grand Magic about him, trust me.”

“Sure,” I said. “But I can’t stop thinking about him. Maybe he’s in trouble. I mean, since Melamori says he may be ill, who knows what could have happened to him?”

“Hmm,” said Juffin. “Then it’s best not to procrastinate. But who should we send on this case? You, Max, might accidentally kill the poor boy. Melamori’s already busy. Should I try it myself? I used to be pretty good at it.”

“Don’t take the bread out of my mouth, Juffin,” said Melamori. “By the way, I found the trace of another dead man. Pretty unusual, but the owner is dead for sure. Very strange, though. Are you sure there was only one dead body here?”

“We’re not sure about anything,” said Juffin. “But I have an idea. Do me a favor, Melamori, and step on Max’s trace for a moment.”

“Why?” said Melamori.

“Just do it for me, will you?” said Juffin.

“Okay.”

She came to me from behind, shuffled her feet for a moment, and gasped. I turned around. I hadn’t seen her that scared for a long time.

“This
is
your trace, Max,” she said, her lips pale and barely moving. “When did you die?”

“Last night,” said Juffin. “Don’t fret, Melamori. He’s more alive now that he ever was. You can take my word for it.”

“I’m alive and kicking, Melamori, really,” I said. “I’m not a corpse, I’m a good guy!”

“Phew! I don’t like your jokes, gentlemen,” said Melamori.

“Why do I have the trace of a dead man?” I asked Juffin in alarm. “I’m not a zombie, am I?”

“No, no. You’re perfectly fine, Max,” said Juffin. “But the trace is firmly attached to you body’s memory of itself, and your body remembers its own death. Hence the confusion. But look at the bright side: it’s an excellent disguise. You never know, it may come in handy.”

“Who would I need to hide from?” I said. “I have no reason to hide from Melamori.”

“No, not yet. But spend a few more years working for the Secret Investigative Force, and you’re bound to end up with a few powerful nemeses. Just you wait,” said Juffin. Then he turned to Melamori. “Don’t be mad at me, my lady. I didn’t want to upset you, but sometimes it pays for the Master of Pursuit to acquire new experience, don’t you think? In any event, now you know that a dead man’s trace can sometimes only
seem
like a dead man’s trace.”

“I’m not mad,” Melamori said quietly. “But you really did scare me. Okay, I’m going to keep looking for the trace of that powerful Magician. But I don’t think it’s here. I’ve looked almost everywhere already.”

“Are you sure?” said Juffin. “The body was found in the living room.”

“It’s not hard to move the body to another room,” I said.

I had the age-old wisdom of myriad detective novels from my World on my side, so I didn’t doubt for a second that I was right. To my surprise, though, Juffin didn’t tap his forehead and exclaim, “Oh my, why didn’t I think of that!”

Instead, he said, “That’s a strange idea . . . Dragging a dead body around. Then again, people’s heads are full of strange ideas. Let’s give it a try. Where do you think we should begin?”

“How about the bedroom?” I said. “On second thought, scratch that. How about his workshop? He wouldn’t be changing the appearance of his clients in the living room, I don’t think.”

“Indeed,” said Juffin. “Melamori, step on the trace of that Arvaroxian. I just got word from Melifaro. He says that the new prisoner is, indeed, Mudlax, which I didn’t doubt for a second. He also says that his new face looks nothing like the one Ariama described to me just yesterday. What is clear is that Mudlax came here to change his face again. And he got what he came for. His trace should lead us to that very ‘workshop,’ as Max has christened it. Where did you pick up this bureaucratic jargon, Max?”

“On the border of the County Vook and the Barren Lands, naturally. While I was sitting on my throne there, alone among the boundless steppes.”

Melamori shuffled her feet in the middle of the living room and then went downstairs.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Varixa Ariama’s ‘workshop’ turned out to be the bathroom,” said Juffin. “Very romantic.”

We did have to cross a spacious room, in the center of which stood a toilet bowl. Melamori hesitated by the back wall and turned to us.

“There must be some secret passage here,” she said. “His trace runs right into the wall.”

“Interesting,” said Juffin. “Well, a secret passage poses no problem.”

He tapped the wall with his palm in a series of short chopping motions. A thin streak of pale light outlined the neat contour of a small door. The door opened with a mournful creak.

“It’s not too happy about this,” said Juffin. Then he made a gallant bow to Melamori. “After you, my lady.”

Melamori had to stoop down to walk through the door and into a small, dark room. Juffin and I had to crawl on all fours to squeeze in.

“Ah, it’s the same old story: the smaller the door, the easier it is to make it invisible,” Juffin grumbled. “I’m only glad it’s not a mouse-hole. Well, my girl, have you found anything interesting in here?”

“And how!” said Melamori. “An excellent trace. One of the best. I think Max is quite capable of standing on it. This person is unlikely to kick the bucket if he does. He’s very, very strong.”

“Oh, is he indeed?” said Juffin. “Well, if you’re sure, then . . . Go on, Max. Try it.”

“No problem,” I said, making my way over to Melamori.

“Where’s the trace? Ah, here we go, you don’t have to tell me. Why did you say he was so powerful? I don’t sense anything of the sort. Now, the sister of Sir Atva Kuraisa, on the other hand, she was one tough cookie. Remember her?”

“The problem is your oversized ego, boy,” said Juffin laughing. “Like any professional Master of Pursuit, Melamori evaluates the strength of the trace’s owner objectively. You, on the other hand, can only sense one thing: whether the owner is dangerous to you personally. Lady Tanna Kuraisa almost killed you, and you had a foreboding about it from the very beginning. That’s why you avoided her trace. This guy, however powerful he may be, doesn’t stand a chance against you, and that’s why you consider his trace to be innocuous. Maybe your approach is more practical than the traditional one. After all, the only thing that matters is staying alive. How powerful the opponent is may be irrelevant. You don’t have to be a Grand Magician to aim blindly from behind a corner and still manage to shoot your pursuer right between the eyes—just lucky. So I think you can safely go hunting. The sooner you track him down, the better. I know it’s not completely up to you, but please try not to kill the guy, okay? I’m eager to talk to him. Melamori, what are you waiting for? Go back to the living room and step on the trace of Ariama Junior. You’re on him now officially, since Max is having his premonitions.”

I felt I couldn’t stay in one place. The sensation that I had begun to forget, pleasant and unbearable at the same time, made my feet move faster, and faster, and faster. I went back to the bathroom, then up the stairs. The trace, I soon realized, didn’t lead upstairs. It swerved behind the stairs and broke off at the wall.

“Juffin,” I called out, puzzled. “I think there’s another secret door here. I could use your help.”

Juffin examined the wall and shook his head.

“No door here. He left through the Dark Path. Not a problem for an experienced Master of Pursuit, really. If you can’t figure it out, Melamori can follow him there.”

“Right, but according to you, he poses no threat to me, and we don’t know whether Melamori can handle him. So I’d better try it myself. Just tell me what to do.”

“Hmm. You don’t really need to do anything. Just stand here and wait for the trace to pull you. But you need to focus as hard as you can on your own feet. Imagine that you have nothing but your heels. Got it?”

“Of course not,” I said. “But I’ll try.”