The Stranger's Woes

by Max Frei

  “Good evening, Lookfi. Good evening, clever ones,” I said, bowing politely to the buriwoks. “I’ve come purely out of selfish motives, as always, I’m embarrassed to admit. But it can’t be helped. Lookfi, will you ask your wise feathered friends whether they’ve heard of one Anday Pu? It seems that long ago he was a satellite at the Royal Court, but he was involved in some kind of scandal and fell from grace, if he’s telling the truth. I just saddled Sir Rogro Jiil with him, and now I’m wondering what kind of mischief I’ve caused. Will Sir Rogro be hunting high and low for me all over Echo so he can punch my lights out?”

  “Goodness gracious, Sir Max! Who would dare pick a fight with you? All the more since Sir Rogro hasn’t fought with anyone for years. He’s very mellow these days,” Lookfi said without a trace of irony. He went up to a buriwok. “Spush, tell Max about Anday Pu. You keep tabs on all the former courtiers, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “You’re never mistaken,” the buriwok said, bobbing his head up and down. “Dossier on Mr. Anday Pu. Born in Echo on the 222nd day of the 3162nd year of the Epoch of Orders.”

  I did some quick calculations. The Epoch of Orders ended in 3188, and now it was the year 116 of the Code Epoch. That means the fellow was just over a hundred forty years old, a little bit older than Melifaro, who was born on the first day of the Code Epoch. Funny, I was used to thinking of Melifaro as slightly younger than I was. But if you consider that natives of the World only outgrow their teenage blemishes at about ninety years of age, Melifaro really was slightly younger than me, however strange it may sound. And Anday Pu was about the same age as I was, though these calculations are enough to drive you mad. He was my age, and as much of a loser as I was at thirty years old in my own World. I shook my head, feeling somewhat chastened.

  The buriwok continued. “His grandfather, Zoxma Pu, and his father, Chorko Pu, arrived in Echo in the year 2990 of the Epoch of Orders from some islands in the Ukumbi Sea. It is not possible to recover any information about their past, but since all adult Ukumbians are pirates, to some degree, it stands to reason that both Pu elders—”

  “Were blackbeards!” I said.

  “What are blackbeards?” Lookfi inquired.

  “Well, there were some outlaws back in the Barren Lands, a whole clan of them, who went by that name. Spush, please proceed. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

  “Not at all,” the buriwok said. “You people always interrupt. First the gentlemen bought a house at 22 Street of Steep Roofs and lived on their savings. In 3114, Chorko Pu became the senior chef at the Residence of the Order of the Green Moons.”

  “Was that the Order of Grand Magician Mener Gusot?” I said. “The fellow who raised Phetans and was practically the archenemy of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover? The one who later killed himself, and after that they burned down the Residence, right? I lived just across from his house on the Street of Old Coins. That was some neighborhood, let me tell you”

  “That is correct,” the buriwok said. “Shall I continue, or have you already found out everything you wished to know?”

  “Oh, no! Please go on, my fine fellow.”

  “Grand Magician Mener Gusot prized Ukumbi cuisine very highly, so the fortunes of Chorko Pu improved considerably. In 3117, Zoxma Pu began to assist his son as the Order’s membership grew and more hands were needed. In the year 3148, Chorko Pu married Heza Rooma, a native of Echo. Her family—”

  “Never mind her and her family, Spush. Let’s talk about Anday Pu himself.”

  “Mr. Anday Pu was born on the 222nd day of the year 3162, as I have already told you. From the moment of his birth he lived with his maternal grandparents, since the presence of children at the Residence of any Order of Magic is prohibited. On the 233rd day of the year 3183, the Residence of the Order of the Green Moons was burned down by the combined forces of the king and the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover. Zoxma and Chorko Pu, and Mrs. Heza Rooma, all died in the fire. Anday Pu continued to live in the home of his maternal grandparents.

  “In the second year of the Code Epoch, the famous Royal Decree of His Majesty Gurig VII was issued. It decreed a special Royal Allowance for relatives of those who perished in the Troubled Times. This enabled Anday Pu to enter the Royal College in the same year. He was considered to be one of the best students, and he graduated with honors in the year 62.”

  I whistled under my breath. Incredible. Sixty years of schooling!

  “Anday Pu’s excellent academic record earned him a place at the Court. At the end of that year he received an invitation to assume the post of Master of Refined Utterances at the Royal Court of His Majesty King Gurig VIII.”

  Hmm, so it seems he wasn’t telling tall tales after all, I thought. Well, I’ll be.

  “In the year 68, Mr. Anday Pu was accused of spreading petty secrets of the Court and excused from service to the king, without the right to be reinstated or the right to receive a pension. One Mr. Kuom Manio, a reporter for the Echo Hustle and Bustle, was also involved in the affair. He was not formally charged with anything, however, since he was fulfilling his professional duties, collecting information about current events. After his dismissal, Mr. Anday Pu moved to 22 Street of Steep Roofs, which he had inherited. Since his account at the Chancellory of Big Sums of Money was depleted, he was forced to rent out half of his house to the Pela family. He writes occasionally for the Royal Voice. He has been detained several times by the Echo City Police for rowdiness and unseemly behavior in public places. He has never been detained for, or suspected of, more serious offenses. That’s all.” The buriwok turned to Lookfi. “I’d like some nuts if you please.”

  “Thank you, Spush,” I said, rising from my chair. “I have something to add to your dossier. What day is it today?”

  “The 113th, Sir Max,” said Lookfi.

  “Right. On the 113th day of the year 116, Anday Pu was appointed senior reporter at the Royal Voice by Sir Rogro Jiil, editor-in-chief. It’s the latest news. Moreover, it’s the work of my very own hands. Thank you again, gentlemen. Drop by for a mug of kamra on your way home, Lookfi. I know you won’t unless I invite you.”

  “Thank you,” Sir Lookfi said, smiling broadly. “And you should drop by to see Varisha and me sometime, too. Her Fatman at the Bend really is one of the best taverns in Echo. I would never sing the praises of my wife’s establishment if that weren’t the honest truth.”

  “Oh, what a nitwit I am! I should have done that long ago, especially since we’re almost neighbors now. I also live in the New City. I’ll visit the Fatman as soon as I get back from the Magaxon Forest.”

  “You’re going on vacation?” Lookfi said.

  “Well, almost. Hunting, actually. In the company of Lady Melamori and two dozen policemen. Sounds great, doesn’t it?”

  “You lead such a fascinating life, Sir Max.”

  On this note of optimism, we parted.

  Sir Juffin and I dined together, and for a few hours I regaled him with the saga of Anday Pu. He clearly got a great deal of pleasure from it, but I’m still not sure whether he was laughing at Anday Pu or at me.

  After dinner Juffin set out for home, and I returned to the House by the Bridge alone. In the Hall of Common Labor I ran into Sir Lonli-Lokli. He was pacing back and forth from one corner of the room to the other, his face absolutely deadpan and his hands, sheathed in their enormous protective gloves, clasped behind his back. Dressed in a flowing snow-white looxi, he was the picture of manly beauty. I nodded in greeting.

  “Where did you disappear to, Shurf? I haven’t seen you in half a dozen days.”

  “I didn’t disappear,” he said. “I’ve been right here the whole time, sitting in my office and taking care of business. You’re the one who’s been flitting about all over Echo. You even went to General Box’s for dinner. Are you off to the Magaxon Forest, Max?”

  “You know the answer to that already.”

  “I do. What I don’t know is what you’re going to do if a dead Jiffa really does turn up th
ere. Spit at him? Because you know your poison only works on the living. How do you plan to get around that one?”

  “No idea whatsoever. From the start I insisted on you as the most likely candidate, but Shixola got it into his head that he’d feel more comfortable with me by his side. Imagine his disappointment if I screw up. And Juffin didn’t object to the idea, either. Purely out of malice, I’m guessing.”

  “Sir Juffin knows you’re still learning. He wants you to get the experience, and that’s only logical, of course. But I’ve been feeling uneasy in my heart since this morning, so I decided to wait for you. Come into my office, Max. I have something to show you. Maybe you’ll be able to pick it up without too much trouble. With you, anything is possible.”

  “Gladly. I love new tricks.”

  Shurf shook his head but kept silent.

  Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli’s office was a remarkable place. An enormous empty hall, it was the most spacious room on our side of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order. In the far corner one could just make out a diminutive writing desk and a hard, uncomfortable-looking chair.

  “Sit down, Max.” Shurf pointed hospitably at the floor. “It’s not going to damage your backside in the least.”

  “I should hope not,” I said, arranging myself on the spot he had indicated.

  Lonli-Lokli, in the meantime, drew from the folds of his looxi a very familiar holey cup. From his desk drawer he took out a minuscule ceramic bottle. He poured the contents into it, considered a bit, then extended the cup to me.

  “Take it, Max. In Kettari you were able to drink from it, so you won’t have any problem here, either.”

  I drank from it as he bid. The ancient wine tasted rather ordinary, and even slightly bitter. You’ll never make a gourmet out of me.

  “Am I going to start walking two feet above the ground like I did in Kettari?” I said.

  “I hope not. I gave you only a very small portion. But get up and try out your legs yourself.”

  I got up and discovered with a mild sense of disappointment that my legs stood firmly rooted to the floor. No more defying gravity for me.

  Meanwhile, Lonli-Lokli removed his outer protective gloves and then the death-dealing gloves inside. He went to his desk and hid them in a special box. Then he came back to me.

  “Watch,” he said, raising his left hand. His fingers were poised, motionless, as if to snap. And then he did.

  Almost imperceptibly, but with a powerful thrust, a small white sphere of lightning exploded from his fingertips. I had no time even to notice how it rolled through the enormous hall, then dispersed in a fountain of sparks when it bounced against the far wall.

  “Now you do it. Don’t try thinking about how I did it. Just snap your fingers as you saw me do.”

  Apparently the sip of wine from the holey cup really had turned me into a wunderkind. The finger-snapping trick worked on my first try.

  A tiny, glowing ball—not white, like Shurf’s, but incandescent green—sped through the room and hit the wall with a loud crack. At that very moment it became huge and transparent, then disappeared.

  “It’s the first time I’ve ever witnessed such dexterity,” Shurf said with something resembling surprise. “You’ve done very well. But your Lethal Sphere is somewhat off.”

  “You know things are always different for me than for other people,” I said with a sigh. “I wonder if it can really kill? What was it, again—a ‘Lethal Sphere’?”

  “Yes, exactly. I’m afraid you’ll have to test the effectiveness of your handiwork on your own, no later than tomorrow. In any case, Red Jiffa was never a Grand Magician, nor a respectable, run-of-the-mill sorcerer. So whether he’s alive or dead, you’ll be able to handle him. But it’s a good thing to have another trick up your sleeve anyway. Don’t forget to let me know how your green Sphere works when you find out yourself. A very curious natural phenomenon.”

  “Who, me?”

  “I was referring to the color of your Sphere. But you, Max, are an even more curious natural phenomenon, that goes without saying.”

  “My, my, how ironic you’ve become, Shurf.”

  “It’s your own fault for saving me from Kiba Attsax. Next time, think before you act.” Shurf smiled with uncharacteristic warmth. “Anyway, Max, this is all well and good, almost too much so. Still, I can’t shake the presentiment that there’s trouble ahead for you. It’s rather strange when you consider that your upcoming trip doesn’t strike me as being terribly dangerous. Keep your head out of range of the slingshots, all right?”

  “Yes, certainly.” I have to admit, Shurf’s words alarmed me. “Juffin has no such presentiments, it seems.”

  “If he had so much as the inkling of one, he’d never let you go,” Lonli-Lokli assured me. “Perhaps the problem has nothing to do with this trip.”

  “Also possible,” I said. “Maybe I’m just in for a stomach upset of colossal proportions, and this mishap is already registering on the radar of your sensitive soul. Which reminds me, I’ve got to remember to bring along some toilet paper.”

  “That wouldn’t hurt,” Shurf said. “Better stock up on it.”

  Sometimes it’s impossible to know whether he’s joking or being perfectly straightforward.

  When I finally got to my office, I settled down comfortably in my chair, stretched out my legs, crossed them, and placed them on the shining surface of the desk. I didn’t want to think about Shurf’s presentiments and other unpleasant matters. I did want some kamra, though. I saw no reason to deprive myself of it.

  By the time I was on my second cup, a courier’s face appeared at the door, terrified, as always.

  “Sir Max, there’s some strange person here asking about you. He’s standing outside at the entrance to the building, but he refuses to come in. What should I do?”

  “A tubby fellow, wrapped up in a winter looxi?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell him I’m in my office. If he doesn’t want to come in, he doesn’t have to, but I’m not moving from this spot any sooner than midnight. If he changes his mind, send him in. And may the Dark Magicians help me!” That last sentiment I addressed to the ceiling.

  In less than a minute, the descendent of the Ukumbian pirates appeared on the threshold.

  “I’ve come to thank you again, Max! Everything went off almost without a hitch,” he said, settling himself uninvited in the chair opposite mine. “I thought, well, since you’re just sitting there bored out of your mind, and I’m not knocking myself out right now either—look!” He pulled a dusty bottle out of the roomy pocket of his looxi. “This is no pig-swill firewater for the masses. It’s left over from my grandfather’s wine cellar.”

  “From how long ago? Is this leftover loot from a pillaged sailing vessel, or does it come from the wine cellars of the Order of the Green Moons? Thanks, either way.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “How? I’m not just any guy off the street. I’m a Secret Investigator, remember? Why didn’t you want to come in at first, Sir Blackbeard the Younger?”

  “It’s full of rodents in here,” Anday whispered darkly. “What did you just call me?”

  “Blackbeard the Younger,” I said. “It’s one of those things that no one but me thinks is funny. Better get used to it. By the way, you’ve got to get a handle on your youthful fancies, or should I say complexes, about policemen. What does it matter what happened in the remote past? Everything changes. How do you think you’re going to be a crime reporter if you’re even afraid to poke your nose into the Ministry of Perfect Public Order?”

  Anday said nothing and gave me a glum look instead. In the meantime, I wiped the dust off the ancient bottle and pushed a mug of kamra over to him. Then something dawned on me.

  “Hey, have they given you an assignment yet, or are you still free as a bird?”

  “I have to write an article about you or the Secret Investigative Force at least every dozen days. Easy as Chakatta Pie! Even once a day wouldn’t k
ill me.”

  “Excellent. Listen, Anday. Tonight I’m driving to the Magaxon Forest with a sweet lady and a bunch of those—what do you call them?—rodents. Why don’t you come with us? You’ll be able to keep me company, and you’ll make friends with the boys. And it will give you plenty to write about. You’ll be able to report on our united victory over the Magaxon outlaws. If no one pops you with a Baboom slingshot, that is. Life is very unpredictable.”

  “Are you joking?” Anday said uncertainly. “The rodents will never agree to my coming with you.”

  “Who said anything about asking them?” I said. “Who do you think is in charge around here, anyway?”

  “They take orders from you?” It finally started to make sense to him. Apparently, being detained several times for “unseemly behavior in public places” had made an indelible impression on Anday, and he had come to the conclusion that Boboota’s underlings were the most powerful and fearsome fellows in the Unified Kingdom. I had the dubious honor of disabusing him of this notion.

  “Right. I give the orders. So fear not. I don’t advise you to throw your weight around, though. The main thing is not to get on my nerves. I hate squabbles and bickering. You’ll all just have to be nice and make friends when I’m around. So you decide. Come along if you want to. If you don’t, no problem.”

  “Okay, okay,” Anday said. “You think a trip like this is more than I can handle?”

  “If I thought that, I wouldn’t have invited you. Now go home and get ready. Take a little nap. And come back here at around five hours after midnight. We’ll crack open your bottle when we return. Tomorrow’s going to be a hard day, and I have to drive the amobiler.”

  “Aw, come on, one glass won’t kill us,” Anday said.

  “Oh, yes, it will. I want to be surrounded by sober people in good spirits. That’s how I like it. Everything has to be the way I like it because—well, just because. Don’t worry, Anday. Later there will be plenty of time for you and me to ‘burn like comets,’ as you put it.”