by Max Frei
“Do what? Throw big handsome men to the ground? Oh, Kamshi! Forgive me. I’m such a cretin. I was hurrying so fast to get here I overdid it. Are you okay?”
Kamshi was dusting off his looxi very meticulously. “I am all right, Sir Max. Don’t mention it. I was lucky that you were on foot and not driving an amobiler.”
I gave a sigh of relief and turned to Melamori. “Where’s the trace? Was it really so much more loathsome than others?”
“Yes, rather. Try it yourself.”
“How can I do that? Who’s the Master of Pursuit around here?”
“Wait a minute. You mean to tell me you don’t understand what happened just now?” Melamori said. “What do you think you’ve just been doing?”
“Me? I was afraid for you, so I rushed to you through the brush and bracken like a crazy moose. And barely made it here alive.”
“Sir Kamshi, I don’t think Shixola and the boys should be left alone,” Melamori said, looking meaningfully at the lieutenant. “We’ll come after you as soon as we get to the bottom of this sinning trace.”
“Of course, my lady,” Kamshi said, and his silhouette disappeared into the silvery mist. I admired the lieutenant’s strength of character. I wish I could stay as calm as he when someone tells me to go to hell at such an exciting moment.
“Now tell me. How did you find us, Max?” Melamori stared at me relentlessly. “Do you have any clue yourself how you got here?”
“Nope. I haven’t the foggiest,” I admitted. “I sensed some kind of . . . You said something about a loathsome trace, I got pretty darn scared, and I raced over here. Intuition, I guess.”
“Right. Intuition. You’re not a human being; you’re a perpetual surprise. I know what I’m talking about. You still don’t get it? You stood on my trace without even taking off your shoes. That’s not intuition; it’s mastery of the highest degree. If there’s anything that reassures me, it’s your speed. You almost . . . Never do that again, Max, okay? I very much want to believe this has happened to me for the first and last time. I’m in a terrible state.”
“I wonder how I managed?” I was really at a loss. “Lonli-Lokli told me I had special abilities, but I thought you still had to learn those things. And that Juffin just didn’t want to teach me. And for some reason I didn’t understand, he wouldn’t let Shurf do it. It never entered my head that—”
“Don’t you know why?” Melamori said sternly. “It’s because when you step on someone’s trace, it stops their heart. It only makes sense to do that if you want to kill someone. What you really need to learn is not to step on someone’s trace. The sooner you get this under control, the better. Well, let’s take a look at my quarry. Be careful, though, all right?”
“I’m so evil I even disgust myself,” I said with a bitter sigh. “I’m sorry, Melamori. I ran over here to save you, and look what happened. What can I do?”
“It’s simple. Before rushing headlong in pursuit of someone, ask her where she is, like any normal person would do. Then the way ahead will be clear.” Finally Melamori smiled. “Why are you so upset? It’s better to have a gift like that than not to have it at all. I wish I had it myself.”
Then she stood up and walked over to an old stump at the side of the path. She stamped about softly, then turned to me.
“I don’t want to pursue this sinning trace any longer. I’ve had enough for today. Try it yourself. You won’t have any trouble!”
I circled the stump a few times, then looked at Melamori in perplexity. “Beats me! I don’t sense a thing.”
Melamori thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I can’t really explain it. You really have to want to find it. And not doubt for a second that you will. But why should I tell you this? Just think about how you raced over here to find us. That’s how it works.”
I went around the stump a few more times, trying to remember what I felt when I came flying over to “save” Melamori. I didn’t feel anything, really. I just desperately wanted to reach her.
I get it, I thought. Now all I have to do is want to get to the unknown source of this darn trace. Ugh, I’m afraid I lack the sincere conviction.
Still, I tried. I tried thinking about how dangerous this fellow must be, since Melamori was so unnerved by the trace. I decided I simply had to find the scoundrel who was sauntering through the forest leaving traces that spoiled the moods of perfectly decent people. All this smacked of a one-man play in an amateur theatrical hour.
Then I relaxed, and my mind was cleared of extraneous rubbish. I walked, attending to the sensation in the soles of my feet. Tracing circles around this absurd stump chased all the trivial thoughts from my head. Then I froze, as if struck by lightning. I couldn’t budge from the spot. I stood there, immobile, slowly but surely turning into a statue. Now my breath was becoming more labored, and my tongue was numb and lolled around in my mouth. Still, I had time to summon help.
“Come on, get me out of this, on the double!”
I didn’t have to ask twice, praise be the Magicians. A sharp blow at the back of my knees from Melamori’s foot did the trick. I found myself on the ground, stunned. Since I managed to land on both my elbows and my knees, I hurt in four places at once.
“Thanks,” I groaned. I noticed with relief that my tongue, and after that the rest of my body, was beginning to function again. “You level a mean blow, honey.”
“I should hope so,” Melamori said. “You see? You did do it, but the trace got the better of you. You succumbed, even worse than I did. I just felt queasy and frightened. Apparently our gift is a double-edged sword: the stronger you are, the harder you fall if something goes wrong. What kind of trace is it? Do you have any idea, Max?”
“Sure I do. It’s the trace of a dead man,” I blurted out, startling even myself. Right then and there I knew that I wasn’t mistaken. What else could it have been?
“But that’s impossible,” Melamori said, looking at me fearfully. “Dead people leave no trace.”
“Your information is out of date, my lady. Sometimes they do. It’s the trace of Red Jiffa, I’m afraid. This is a sweet little case. The old geezer dug himself out of the grave. He was homesick for his old stomping grounds. I understand the poor guy. What I want to know is where he dug up the new Magaxon Foxcubs—from the neighboring villages or the neighboring graves? Too bad I can’t step on his trace. I start dying myself—you saw it with your own eyes.”
“Yes, you nearly scared the wits out of me,” Melamori said. “Your face even started turning blue.”
“I must have made a handsome sight,” I said. “Well, what are we going to do?”
“Whatever you do, don’t try that trick again. Besides, the blue of your face didn’t match your clothes at all. It positively clashed. Send a call to the boys, Sir Max. There’s no other way. I have to follow this sinning trace on my own.”
“Won’t the pleasure be too much for you?” I said. I didn’t want to have to give the green light for this performance, but what choice did I have?
“There’s no getting around it,” Melamori said. “I’ll have to grin and bear it. It won’t be the first time. But let’s really hustle, okay?”
“Like greased lightning,” I promised.
“Good.” Melamori smiled wistfully and buried her nose in my shoulder.
We stood like that until the first heroes of the impending battle burst forth out of the nearby thorn bushes.
Anday Pu brought up the rear. He looked so panic-stricken, and so eager at the same time, that Melamori and I couldn’t help laughing.
“We’ll follow behind Lady Melamori, the faster the better,” I commanded my fiery but bumbling regiment. “I advise you to prepare for the worst. One of them is already dead, that’s certain. I’m not sure about the others. Try not to lose your heads, whatever happens. Let’s go!”
Melamori stood on the trace, cringed, stooped, and put her arms around her body, as if she were cold. I really wanted to help her, but there was nothing I could do.
She made a few uncertain steps, shook her head resolutely, and started running. We followed her.
I tried very hard to keep to the side of the invisible and dangerous trace. The last thing I needed was to collapse in the middle of a chase.
Luckily it was only a few minutes before Melamori was brought up short before the edge of a shallow ravine. She leaped down into it, dropped onto all fours, and started to howl. The unearthly sounds made my skin crawl.
“What are you doing?” I said, alarmed, jumping in after her.
“Nothing. The trace ends here. There’s some kind of passageway—the trace leads right into it. I . . . I had to call him out, Max. Don’t ask me why. I didn’t want to, but somehow . . . the trace told me I had to,” Melamori said. “Help me climb out of here, please!”
Her voice had returned to normal again. It was impossible to believe that this sweet lady had just been howling like an inconsolable werewolf. I helped her scramble out and followed close behind her.
“Max, he’ll be here soon,” Melamori said. “It will either be Jiffa by himself, or . . . much worse. Anyway, Jiffa’s trace is the only one here.”
“You got that, gentleman?” I said, turning to the policemen. “A bunch of living corpses are about to crawl out of that ravine. If you have a weak stomach, you’d better not look.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to handle them, Sir Max?” Captain Shixola said.
“How should I know? We’ll soon find out—if we’re still alive, that is. I told you Lonli-Lokli was the one to call on in a case like this, but you didn’t believe me. That’s what you get.”
I stared into the bottom of the ravine. For some reason it seemed funny to me rather than terrifying, although I was not given to heroics and never had been. No, I had never tried to play the hero. I guess I just couldn’t believe in the reality of what was happening.
Finally I spied something truly suspicious. Something was moving around down there.
“The Magaxon Foxes lived in dens, didn’t they, Shixola? Looks like these guys just moved into an empty apartment. That’s good. It means they’ll be crawling out of their foxhole one at a time. It’s a den, after all. Melamori, you said you ‘called him,’ right?”
Melamori nodded. She looked none too cheerful.
“Do you know what’s going to happen now? I mean, the one you called, is he going to be coming out of this foxhole and no other? For sure?”
“Yes, it will be from this one, but he may not emerge right away. He might put up resistance for a long time. Sooner or later he’ll have to come out, though. Hey!”
“‘Hey’ is right,” I said, raising my left hand and snapping my fingers. (Come one, come all, step right up and see my new trick, compliments of the one and only Lonli-Lokli.)
The tiny ball of lightning did not disappoint. It appeared right on cue, shimmering with a greenish light. Then it pierced the darkness of the ravine with a moist, smacking sound. I saw a youthful face, completely distorted with fear. My lightning hit the fellow right between the eyebrows. He gasped slightly.
The poor guy was still in one piece, apparently. My shot, which was supposed to be a mortal one, filled him with renewed vigor. He crawled toward me like a cockroach on the run. A second later the fellow grabbed a small thorn bush growing near my feet, pulled himself up, and . . .
The city policemen didn’t waste any time. The first shot from the Baboom slingshot hampered his progress a bit. The explosion blew open his cheek and nose. I don’t think you could have called this a trifling wound, but the bullheaded guy kept coming and climbed out of the shallow ravine at the same time I did. Without thinking, I spat at the horrifying face, disfigured by the shot from the Baboom. Even if the guy were alive, after our first encounter his time would have been up. My poison kills instantly, however stupid that might sound. But nothing of the sort happened. The spit left a gaping hole in his forehead, similar to the one on the carpet of my former bedroom on the Street of Old Coins. Of course, my “patient” was as dead as the nerve in a rotten tooth.
Then something incredible happened. This unsightly dead creature raised his dull eyes to me and shouted ecstatically, “I’m with you, Master!”
I jumped up and spat again at my “slave,” from the sheer unexpectedness of it. This time I blasted a hole in his shoulder, but the fellow didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to it. The living corpse scrabbled along the edge of the ravine, his eyes fixed on me fawningly.
The policemen’s collective nerves couldn’t quite cope with this tender spectacle, so a volley of shots from their Babooms tore him to shreds. But even the shreds of his over-dead body kept crawling toward me.
“I’m with you, Master,” the leftovers of his head cried out again and again.
I was pretty much beside myself at this point. Sometimes, though, when I’m pressed up hard against a wall, my mind works at the speed of light.
“Take it easy, boys,” I said to the policemen. “It looks like I know how to get them to obey. And that’s not bad, not bad at all. So don’t rush to kill the others if there are any displays of tenderness toward me. We’ll soon find out.”
Down below something rustled again. I snapped the fingers of my left hand. There was another bright green flash of light, a disgusting thwack, and a weak, cracking voice that called out, “I’m with you, Master!”
I bristled but kept myself under control. The more people are with me, the better. Figuring out whether they’re dead or alive is something I can do later, when this hullabaloo is over, I thought, provided it ever ends, of course.
So I said calmly, “Well, that’s just fine and dandy, pal. Stand right where you are. Stand guard over me, and warn me the next time one of your comrades appears. That’s an order! And tell me, how many of you are there down there?”
“We are many,” my dead vassal said proudly. “Almost three dozen in number.”
“Not too much to worry about,” I said turning to the policemen. “Three dozen isn’t three million, after all. We’re in luck, boys. Only three dozen dead men, but at least we’ll have something to brag about.”
“We are alive, we will never die,” the garrulous deceased man objected. Then he added proudly, “We’ve been together a long time.”
“Ah, I see. Well, alive or dead, do you think you can tell the others to obey me?”
“They obey Jiffa. Jiffa ordered us to deal with you, though our time has not yet come. After a few hours we will become stronger, Master. There they are!”
“Many thanks.” I made a comic bow to him and hurled some more green lightning into the ravine. As I had come to expect, another voice rose up out of the murky darkness, “I’m with you, Master!”
Just at that moment, a tiny but lethal piece of shrapnel from a Baboom flew at my head. “What a surprise,” Lookfi would have said. My trusty slave executed a wild leap. The shrapnel was flying fairly high, but he managed to jump up several yards to intercept it, planting the lethal object in his own dead forehead. It blew off almost half of his head. I cursed everything under the sun, then snapped my fingers a few more times. The devil knew how many of these guys had come out. Bright green sparks melted into the chasm of darkness.
“I’m with you, Master!” A raucous chorus of voices convinced me of the wisdom of my action.
“Everyone stay put down there and guard us from the others!” I had learned to bark out orders remarkably fast. Turning to the policeman, I announced, “Now I’m going to retreat to the forest with my own handpicked band of merry men. With brave lads like these, even the Dark Magicians are nothing to fear.”
“Ask about their leader, Max!” Melamori’s voice returned me to earth again. “These fellows don’t carry a trace. They leave nothing at all. They don’t count. I was following someone else. I don’t think you’ll have such an easy time with him. I called him, he should be coming out, but there’s still no sign of him.”
What a girl! She’s brilliant to have reminded me, I thought. “Loyal slaves,
tell Uncle Max—where is your Jiffa?”
“Underneath,” the voices muttered. “Jiffa was called, but he won’t come out. He sent us to take care of it.”
In the meantime, the crowd in the ravine was growing steadily. I heard sounds of struggle. My “subjects” were trying faithfully to disarm their comrades. I would have to intervene. After snapping my fingers a few times, I became certain that now I had no fewer than two dozen corpses at my command. The fellows were crawling out of their lairs with such alacrity that there was no time for oaths of fealty.
“Max!” Melamori cried out. “Their leader is coming, I can feel it! It’s something terribly powerful, much mightier than all the rest. Please take care.”
“Yes, I will. I’m usually so careful I can’t stand myself.”
“Careful? You?” someone cackled nervously behind my back. It must have been Lieutenant Kamshi. He was still somewhat wild-eyed and shaken after my exploits at the levers of the amobiler this morning.
“Eagle scouts!” I said, calling my dead bodyguards to attention. “You must protect me from your Jiffa at any cost. Is that clear?”
“We are with you, Master!” the terrible troops assured me with languid enthusiasm.
I sighed. Some picnic this was turning out to be.
“More of our men are on the way, but Jiffa’s not with them,” a voice rang out from the ravine.
“Glad to hear it.”
I snapped my fingers again. My regiment was growing by the minute. If only the poor blokes knew how sickened I was by their servile repetition.
A few more minutes passed. Finally I sensed the approach of something new. I was filled with a kind of dull relief. Here was something to break the monotony.
“Are you with me, Angels of Hell?” I said to the corpses.
“We are with you, Master!” they assured me.
“Your job is to capture Jiffa and bring him to me. Is that clear?”
“At your service, Master!”
They were as good as their word. I heard a melee, the sound of dull thuds, and hoarse, muffled curses. Then a remarkably striking face appeared at my feet. At one time the fellow must have been quite a beauty. Neither time, nor deep wrinkles, nor the unsightly scar stretching across his dirt-smeared face could mar such a lovely background. It was a face that asked to be photographed, not taken prisoner. His luxuriant bright-red crest lifted in the wind, and his blue eyes stared at me in cold fury. All three dozen of his former friends held him in a death-grip, but I wasn’t so sure they’d hold it for long. I managed to snap the fingers of my left hand, and a green ball of lightning sped straight to Red Jiffa’s left eyebrow, just at the point where the terrible scar began. The ball then scattered into a thousand tiny harmless flames that died out as if they had never been. Not wasting any time, I spat in his face. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing—as though I wore the Mantle of Death just to pass the time of day.
