by Max Frei
“I gave the cloak to the pretty boy who hired me,” said Misa. “That was our agreement.”
“Bingo, Kofa! A third one,” I said.
“What are you so happy about?” said Kofa.
“That I was right. I love being right. I guess there’s nothing else to be happy about.” I turned back to the old woman. “Care to elaborate? Who’s that ‘pretty boy’? What did he hire you for?”
“I don’t know who he is, Master,” said Misa. “At first I thought he was some rich fop. The son of a gun was wearing a colorful looxi. Not even every slut in the Quarter of Trysts can afford to wear such fancy duds.” I giggled, recalling Melifaro’s extensive collection of clothes. He could be suspect number one. My “slave” continued: “He leeched onto me at the Jubatic Fountain about three hours before midnight. You don’t normally find such sleazy ass-lickers in the Fountain, but there he was. When he opened his yapper, I figured he was the real deal, even though he was wearing women’s clothes. He said he’d pay me six hundred crowns if I sliced a certain fellow. Then he put down a hundred and I said yes. I hadn’t done such a kind deed for such good money in a long while.
“He named the address and told me to be there at midnight and wait in the living room. He said the fellow that needed slicing and dicing would appear out of nowhere but I shouldn’t be afraid. Pfft, as if I was scared. I dealt with all sorts of bastards in the good old days.”
“Fine, fine,” I said. “But the cloak? The old gray cloak? What happened to it?”
“I took the cloak that the little bastard was holding and brought it here. The pretty boy wouldn’t come here himself. He sent a kid just about an hour ago. The kid picked up the cloak and brought me my money—all of it. I haven’t been that lucky in a long time. Yeah, then I felt dizzy and had to lie down.”
“It’s all clear to me now,” said Kofa. He was smiling like a cat after a good meal. “No point in looking for the kid. Either he doesn’t know anything, or we’ll waste a great deal of time on him, even if he does. Let’s just go straight to the Jubatic Fountain and find the trace of that pretty boy of hers. I hope this is going to be our last trip for today.”
“It’s not that easy,” I said. “You’re overestimating my talents, Kofa. Imagine how many traces there will be in the tavern. Dozens upon dozens.” I turned to Misa again. “Can you show us where your employer was sitting?”
“I can, Master.”
“Sweet. Come with me then.”
The old woman slipped down from the sofa and plodded along. Kofa moved to the back seat because No-Nose Misa just had to sit in the front next to me. All creatures that were touched by my Lethal Spheres had the irresistible urge to be close to my precious body. Against the orange fog of the street lights, the old woman’s head looked like a beautiful skull that any horror movie would be honored to feature.
“In my homeland, death is often depicted having no nose,” I said to Kofa. “A cute coincidence, huh?”
“Wonderful,” he said. “One would think our Misa had been getting around.”
“Where’s that Jubatic Fountain?” I said. “I’ve never been there.”
“Magicians forbid!” said Kofa, laughing. “Turn left here. The place is not exactly your style. The dirtiest den in the city. Poor Boboota can’t wait to get it closed down, but Juffin and I won’t let him—for his own good, by the way. It’s very convenient to have the cream of the crop of the underworld, such as our beautiful Ms. Misa here—turn left again—gather together in one place instead of spreading out around town. There’s a reason for that, too. The Jubatic Fountain is the most democratic tavern in the Capital. You pay a couple of handfuls as an entrance fee and drink as much as you can. In the middle of the tavern, there’s an actual fountain of Jubatic Juice. Food costs extra, of course, but people don’t go there for a nice dinner. Okay, now turn right. The Jubatic Fountain is at the end of the block. You’ll see it in a minute in all its glory.”
“Yuck,” I said.
We stopped across from a big one-story house. The windows were blazing, suggesting that despite the late hour the place was still open. The large hall, however, was almost empty. A few indistinguishable figures were sitting at a table at the farthest end. They paid no attention to us. Even my Mantle of Death didn’t impress them. The fellows were already beyond good and evil, apparently.
In the center of the hall stood a drinking fountain. Living up to its name, it reeked heavily of the Jubatic Juice.
“Show us where you sat,” I said to the old woman.
“Right here, Master.” She led us to a table by the fountain. “I sat here, and the pretty boy’s butt was rubbing against this.” She patted an old wooden chair that was painted a touching pink.
“Good girl,” I said. She sounded very sincere. I was happy that she wasn’t senile. Then again, people of her occupation were much less prone to senility than decent folks. I sat in the pink chair, shuffled my feet on the floor, and paused in anticipation. And then the sensation came. It hit me like a mallet. “Oh, this is a tough one!” I said to Kofa. “Some powerful Magician from the old days, I swear. It feels like someone’s grabbing my heels. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
“Really? Interesting. But the hunt will have to wait. First we need to take this beauty to the House by the Bridge. I enjoy the company of a lady, but not to the degree that I want to bring Misa along everywhere we go.”
“Agreed,” I said. “Only we don’t need to take her anywhere. She can go on her own.”
“Oh, I forgot,” said Kofa. “You can make her do whatever you want!”
“Precisely.” I turned to the old woman. “Be a good sport, sweetheart, and go to the House by the Bridge. Then ask the policemen to lock you up good and tight. Then you can rest. You’ve had a long, hard day.”
“Thank you, Master,” said Ms. Misa, and she walked obediently toward the exit. Sir Kofa watched her with rapt attention.
“Who would have thought there would be a day when No-Nose Misa would show up in the Ministry of Perfect Public Order and ask to be put away! You’ve made me a great present, boy. I should send a call to the policemen on duty now so they don’t swoon. It’s not every day you see such a marvel.”
“Okay, but let’s do it on our way,” I said. “I can’t stand hanging around here anymore.”
“Of course, of course. Let’s go. I never knew you’d make such a zealous Master of Pursuit.”
“I’m a little embarrassed,” I said, rushing headlong to the front door. “I sometimes think I can’t do anything and I’m just pretending. I’ve seen Melamori do it, so I know approximately how to act.”
The few customers of the Jubatic Fountain had never paid us any attention, and I was pretty sure I liked it that way.
My next victim was fond of long walks, so I couldn’t drive. A Master of Pursuit must mimic the actions of his victim.
“Someone will see your amobiler parked by that old dive,” said Kofa, laughing. “Can you imagine what it will do to your reputation?”
“It’s not the first time,” I said. “I’ve had a ‘reputation’ all my life and never did anything worthy of mention to deserve it. Boy, am I pissed at that pretty boy! My feet are almost numb from all this running around today, and the bastard just had to take it into his head to go for a stroll.”
While I was grumbling, we ended up by the Grave of Kukonin, a pleasant little tavern. Kofa and I had been there once before on business. Several policemen were ambling about and shuffling their feet around the Grave. Inside Lieutenant Chekta Jax was pacing back and forth, exercising his muscles. He was, as usual, burdened with a sense of the utter importance of everything that was happening to him and, thus, was very gloomy.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to make a pit stop here,” said Kofa, throwing me a compassionate glance. “Will you manage?”
“I’m going to have to,” I said. “I’ll try grinding my teeth. Maybe it’ll help.”
“What happened here, Chekta?”
said Kofa. “Tell me, and make it quick.”
“According to my job description, I have no right to report the situation to anyone before my superior has read my official report,” said Chekta Jax.
“I personally wrote that job description about two hundred years ago,” said Kofa. “I’ll have you know that the Secret Investigative Force didn’t even exist back then. Now the Third Amendment to the Code of Krember states that any human being in the territory of the Unified Kingdom must cooperate with the officials of the Minor Secret Investigative Force to the best of his abilities. You, boy, are in the territory of the Unified Kingdom and are a human being, to a certain extent. So cooperate, and on the double.”
“I am not quite sure what happened here, sir,” said the lieutenant. “I was called to investigate a murder.” He looked like he wished the earth would swallow him up.
“Well, a hole in the heavens above you, mister!” I said. “Couldn’t you have said so right away? Mind you, I’ve never wanted to kill someone more in my life than I do now. And I could do it with impunity! Sir Kofa is my witness: you’ve breached the Third Amendment.”
Lieutenant Chekta Jax gave me a look full of genuine hatred. He really wanted to smash my face in, but the poor thing couldn’t afford such a luxury—not now, not the next day, not the next year, not ever—and that made him really, really sad.
Sir Kofa was already talking to the overexcited proprietor of the place and nodding. “Thank you, my friend,” he said to the proprietor. “Good job. Concise and to the point. Max, one minute. I need to look at the body. So should you, actually.”
“Admiring dead bodies is my favorite pastime,” I said. “But I’ll do it only on the condition that the trace drags me in the right direction.”
“That’s where it should be dragging you. To kill someone, you have to come close to him, don’t you think?”
I made a strange zigzag around the dining hall and couldn’t resist the temptation to sit at one of the tables. I had to make a stop.
“Looks like my pretty boy rubbed his skaba against this stool for a long time,” I said.
“That’s correct,” said Kofa. “That’s where he sat waiting for his delivery boy who brought him the cloak. The proprietor remembered a well-dressed man and a little boy carrying a parcel—except that he’s sure that the man then went out, leaving the money on the table. Figures.”
I finally felt I could get up from the table. I walked around the tavern and stopped by the bar. On the floor at my feet lay the dead body of an elderly man in a warm brown looxi.
“I’m not feeling the urge to move along now,” I said. “He stood here for several minutes.”
“Exactly,” said Kofa. He bent down to examine the body. “I see. A regular knife wound, but right in the heart. Nice job. Today’s a cold weapon day for us, it seems. Killed by our client, I’m sure. It couldn’t be anyone else. We can go now, boy. Your suffering is almost over.”
“Phew!” I said, heading for the exit. I had nothing to complain about. Kofa had done a quick and excellent job with this case. I couldn’t have wished for it to finish any sooner.
“You can go back to the Headquarters,” Kofa said to Chekta Jax. “This murder falls under the jurisdiction of the Secret Investigative Force now. Consider yourself lucky that we got here so soon. You won’t be doing our job, which is a plus. Good night, gentlemen.”
The gloomy face of Lieutenant Chekta Jax depicted an epic battle between relief and disappointment. Alas, I had no time to admire the evidence of that psychological conundrum.
“So, our pretty boy immediately used the cloak to settle an old score,” I said. “That’s too shallow. I thought he was the ‘real deal,’ as No-Nose Misa put it.”
“Who knows? But I don’t think he was settling any old scores,” said Kofa. “I don’t think he even knew the victim.”
“Why kill him then?” I said. “Just for kicks?”
“Almost. I suspect he did it to test how well his new acquisition worked.”
“To test it?” I said. “Makes sense, of course, but he could’ve tried a less violent experiment. Steal something, for example.”
“I believe he was aware that the cloak worked fine for stealing. Looks like our client knew poor Zekka Moddorok well, or at least had been following his adventures. He was well prepared. How else would he have known about the cloak and where to find it? This fellow had been following Zekka’s trail for a long time.”
“Okay, that I can understand,” I said. “But what exactly happened in the Grave of Kukonin? I mean, how did it all happen, and when?”
“Less than an hour ago. We’re all but stepping on the heels of our pretty boy, whoever he may be. As to what happened in the tavern, it’s very simple. The victim stood by the bar, waiting for the barman to finish washing up the glasses and take his money. Then he moaned, touched his chest, and fell. The barman thought he had had a heart attack and was going to call for a wiseman, but then he saw the wound and the blood. Of course he didn’t see anyone besides the victim. The tavern was empty—everybody had left.
“I’m almost sure that our pretty boy was standing by the dead body the whole time. He wanted to make sure that nobody could see him. There wasn’t much risk in that. If anything went wrong, he could just run off. The barman is an old fellow and doesn’t strike me as someone who could try to detain our killer. There was no one else in the Grave, so it all worked out nicely for him. Can you tell how long before we catch up with him?”
“I can only tell you that he’s not hiding just around the corner, unfortunately,” I said. “I hate him already. Why oh why didn’t he take an amobiler? Echo’s a big city.”
“I wholeheartedly share your indignation,” said Kofa.
“At least he’s got stamina,” I grumbled. “Nothing could induce me to follow a trace like this if it belonged to another dead man.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Kofa, shaking his head. “If even half of what I’ve heard about you is true, the fellow may give up the ghost any second.”
“I hope he doesn’t. No-Nose Misa survived, and I was on her trace for a long time while you were going to fetch my amobiler.”
“Women in general are much tougher than we men, and Misa is tougher than all other women put together, despite her age. Hey, look, Max! Do you know where we are?”
“I’m not really paying attention. I’ve been focusing on trying not to trip.”
“This is the Bridge of Kuluga Menonchi,” said Kofa.
“And that means that we’re headed to Jafax,” I said. “Holy moly! Looks like you and I are going to save the mighty Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover from all known disasters at one go. No wonder I feel so exhausted.”
“Oy vey, Max. Magician Nuflin will owe us a little for this night, he will,” said Kofa. He was so good at impersonating the Grand Magician Nuflin Moni Mak that I couldn’t contain a smile. Kofa also smiled and winked at me. “Exhausted, you say? Why not take a sip of your Elixir of Kaxar?”
“Oh, thanks for reminding me,” I said, taking the bottle out of my pocket. “My head is full of holes. Maybe you want a sip yourself?”
“Maybe I do want a sip myself,” said Kofa. “Sometimes brilliant ideas do visit your head, holes notwithstanding.”
“Thanks. Ah, now we’re very close.”
We were walking alongside the tall wall surrounding the Main Residence of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover. Juffin had once told me that climbing over this wall would be impossible even if you had the best mountain climbing equipment in the World. You’d be climbing forever because the wall disappeared into some unknown but allegedly unpleasant infinity.
“Of course we must be close,” said Kofa. “There’s no place for him to go now. The Transparent Gates of Jafax open only at sunrise and sunset, and no cloak will help him find or pass through the Secret Gates. He’d need a spell, but that would be too much for him. He’s already missed the sunset and is probably waiting for the sunrise. That’s just plain
silly. If I were him, I would be hiding away in some cozy place until morning.”
“So would I,” I said. “And yet he’s still hanging around here somewhere.”
“Now that is simply stupid,” said Kofa. “If you’re foolish enough to engage in a felony, you should at least try to enjoy it. What’s to enjoy here, shivering in the cold winter wind—with you already sniffing around the end of his trace to boot?”
“On top of all that, the fellow is still alive,” I said. “Or maybe I’m just out of shape.”
“We’ll know very soon.” Kofa grabbed me by my shoulders and forged ahead. “You’re losing your concentration, boy. If your client is alive, he could be biding his time looking for some amusement, like shooting a Baboom or throwing daggers. Some people have very unusual hobbies.”
“But he’s supposed to be lying unconscious somewhere by now,” I said.
“There are people, and there are people,” said Kofa. “Oh, crap!”
The next thing I knew my colleague was lying on the ground and cursing. The primary topic of his tirade was fecal matter, which was mentioned in a number of very intricate combinations with other words. The bad influence of General Boboota was unmistakable. Prolonged exposure to his personality left no one untouched.
I couldn’t stop running even if I had wanted to. The trace was pulling me so hard it felt like I was rolling downhill, not running. As a result, I crashed into Kofa, who was already pulling himself up off the ground.
Now we both ended up on the ground. Of course, I couldn’t miss the opportunity to crush my long-suffering elbow again. It hurt so bad my arm felt like it had exploded. It was now my turn in this contest for the best expletive of the season. Baffled, Kofa fell silent and listened.
“How do you spell that?” he said. “And the one just before it?”
“Ask Lonli-Lokli,” I said, embarrassed. The pain subsided a little, and I cheered up. “During our mission in Kettari, he drew up a list of profanities from my distant homeland. I had to get pretty drunk to muster enough courage to explain some of them to him.”
