The Stranger's Woes

by Max Frei

  “Really?Well, good going, Shixola. You’re making progress. Intuition like that is very valuable. What are you waiting for, Sir Max? Come on, lead Sir Jiffa away and take a stone off my heart.”

  “You, and you,” I said, gesturing toward the dead brigands who were holding the leather-bound mummy, the captive but not conquered Jiffa. “Come with me. All the rest of you, wait for me here. Understand? Forward, commandos!”

  “Understood, Master!” they mumbled submissively.

  “Wonderful!” Juffin said in triumph. “You’re a born emperor, Max. Or, at the very least, a prince. And you said you didn’t like giving orders.”

  “I hate it,” I said bitterly.

  “But you’re good at it. You’ll get used to it. You’ll have to.”

  “I hope not. I prefer killing outright.” I threw an acerbic glance at Kamshi, remembering the recent accusations of cruelty. What an idiot I was for getting upset. A reputation like that is very valuable in our profession. It should be guarded at all costs.

  We deposited Jiffa in the small, narrow cage of a room, the secret door to which was located in the far corner of the office Juffin and I shared. The cell was just what was required: it was a miniature version of Xolomi. Leaving it, casting spells or practicing magic in it, and even using Silent Speech were all impossible. It was a sort of detention center for particularly hardened cases. I had never known it to be occupied, so Jiffa was a reminder of the glorious traditions of the beginning of the Code Epoch when this, the most reliable cell in the whole Ministry of Perfect Public Order, was never empty, even for a day.

  “Put him down on the floor,” I told my loyal subjects. “Like that, yes. Oh, I almost forgot. You can remove the gag from his mouth. Let him curse—it’s every man’s right. I’m for freedom of speech, even when it’s objectionable. As long as I don’t have to hear it myself.”

  Truth be told, they didn’t give a rat’s rear about my high-mindedness. They removed the gag, so Jiffa managed to wish us a pleasant journey, but a bit too eloquently for my taste.

  The rest of the corpses continued their aimless shuffling in the corridor. Sir Juffin had already rushed off somewhere on other matters. And my comrades-in-arms, the brave police officers, their faces pale with rage, were listening to the harangue of their immediate superior, Captain Foofloss.

  I started eavesdropping. Unbelievable. Foofloss was berating my heroic colleagues for not wearing their belts. I had always known that Foofloss was a bigger cretin than Boboota, but just how much bigger had escaped me till now.

  “I think the best thing you could do would be simply to shut up and go to a tavern, Captain,” I said amicably. “As for your subordinates’ belts, at the present time they are adorning the wrists and ankles of a dangerous criminal, whom your gentlemen officers and I have just detained. I could go into detail, but as far as I know, you have a hard time understanding human speech. So please don’t interfere when your men are doing their jobs.”

  Foofloss looked at me dumbfounded. I don’t think he grasped a single word of my fiery speech, but he did understand one thing. He was being insulted, and he couldn’t do a thing about it since the nasty rogue was Sir Max the Terrible himself. Nevertheless, the poor guy did try to defend his honor.

  “Sir Max, it is inadmissible to speak in this manner to a superior in the presence of his subordinates. It undermines his authority.”

  “Authority?” I said. “Really? You are as much a superior as I am the Director of Cosmic Electroenemas. I repeat—get thee to a tavern, Foofloss! Do not incur the wrath of the Dark Magicians. Or me, while you’re at it.”

  He looked at me flabbergasted. He hiccuped softly, not so much from fear as from intellectual strain. The skin on his lower forehead wrinkled up, revealing the inner workings of his mind. Finally, Foofloss turned around and fled without saying another word.

  “Thank you, Sir Max.” Kamshi was the first to recover. “Thank you for bringing this unfortunate situation to an end.”

  “Oh, I’m not finished with him yet. Not by a long shot. You all did such a fine job. So if this old douche bag raises his ugly head again, let me know. I’ll have a little tête-à-tête with him. He’ll be as sweet as pie afterward, seeing as I’m so cruel.” I winked at Kamshi, and we both laughed with a sense of relief. The wall that had threatened to grow up between us crumbled.

  “Sir Max, I didn’t quite get your drift. What’s a Cosmic Electroenema?” Shixola said. “And how can an enema, even a cosmic one, have a director?”

  “Every Cosmic Electroenema must have a director,” I said.

  Further comments were unnecessary.

  “I’m glad to see you, Max.”

  A towering snow-white figure appeared at the end of the corridor. Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli in the flesh. I turned toward him joyfully.

  “Look here,” I said, somewhat shamefaced, pointing to the crowd of corpses. “I’ve brought you some visitors, my friend.”

  “May we leave?” Kamshi said.

  “Of course, gentlemen. Thanks for the wonderful outing. I’ll keep you informed about this matter if I can.”

  “You probably won’t be able to,” Kamshi said, nodding cannily. “This case smells like some ancient Order, if I understand correctly.”

  “We’ll see,” I said. “Besides, we never have a case without a lingering whiff of that piquant aroma.”

  The policemen left, and Shurf and I were alone. Not counting my corpses, that is.

  “So, this is how my green lightning works. Are you happy? I’m not, actually.” I looked at Lonli-Lokli uneasily. “Be a sport. Take care of these guys, will you?”

  “Hmm, very interesting.”

  Lonli-Lokli examined the dead outlaws, who were staring at me in devotion. He even approached them more closely. Finally, he turned to me. “No, no, Max. Your Lethal Spheres are in good working order. They’re as dangerous as mine. Only you know, they depend too strongly on your desires, and you don’t know how to control them yet. You could destroy these corpses very easily, but you didn’t want to.”

  “Didn’t want to? You think I’m such a bleeding heart? All I could think about was saving my own skin.”

  “Of course, of course. But you see, Max, you still think that killing is bad. In any case, murder is for you the worst of all possible crimes. Deep inside you resisted killing them. You were hoping for something else—that they would be rendered harmless or, still better, useful. And that’s what they became. It’s quite admirable. You’re a very pragmatic person, Max. Too much so, for my taste.”

  “Well, well. If you say so. And what should I do now? Go outside and kill a few dozen passersby just to get the hang of it?”

  “You’ll get used to it in time, whether you want to or not. No need to rush things. By the way, did it never occur to you that you didn’t have to drag these dead beauties around with you?”

  “Not drag them around with me? What was I supposed to do, leave them there to wander through the forest?”

  “Don’t you get it? They carry out all your orders, don’t they?”

  “Yes. So what?”

  “You could have just ordered them to die there in the forest, instead of organizing this whole parade. The Echoers will remember the spectacle for a long time, of course, but I can’t fathom why Sir Juffin approved of your decision. Well, a strange joke like this is quite up his alley.”

  “Wait a minute, Shurf,” I said, dumbfounded. “You’re saying that if I order them to die, they’ll just lie down and do it?”

  “Try it,” Lonli-Lokli said. “It’s not right for them to be shuffling around the corridors of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order. It’s unaesthetic, to say the least.”

  “Unaesthetic?” I said. “That’s a quaint way of putting it, friend.”

  “Come on, Max,” Lonli-Lokli insisted. “Don’t stall. All matters have to be taken to their conclusions, and unpleasant ones all the more.”

  “Fine.” I turned to the dead men. “I order you al
l to lie down and die and crumble into dust. No reviving allowed.”

  I screwed up my face and played the fool, as I was for some reason sure that nothing would come of it. But my dead men lay down obediently on the floor. A few seconds later, they crumbled apart. The corridor became very dirty—dust and decay everywhere.

  I felt an irresistible urge to grab Lonli-Lokli by the hand. To my delight, he was wearing his protective gloves. It occurred to me just then that grabbing Lonli-Lokli’s hand could be considered a form of suicide. Leave it to me to come up with something so idiotic.

  “They disappeared,” I said, giggling nervously.

  “Of course they did. You ordered them to. Did you ever doubt that they would?”

  “Doubt it? I was sure that it wouldn’t happen.”

  “Strange. When did I ever deceive you?”

  “Never. But you know, Shurf, it just doesn’t match up with my conceptions of my own abilities.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, no matter. No one has a real grasp of his own abilities. This holds for all people, and Magicians in particular, even good ones. Don’t worry, you’re capable of other misconceptions, too.”

  “Oh, speaking of lack of ability. This morning I unwittingly stepped on Melamori’s trace. She was terribly put out. And I wasn’t even trying.”

  “Let’s go into the office, Max,” Lonli-Lokli said. “Don’t you think it will be easier to talk there than in the corridor? Besides, the cleaners are on their way.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Yours or mine?”

  “Mine. You see, Juffin considers your office to be his own. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where he is right now.”

  After locking the door behind him, Lonli-Lokli sat down on his uncomfortable chair. I settled down on the floor and leaned up against his chair.

  “You’re tired, Max. How many Lethal Spheres did you launch this morning?”

  “I guess about three dozen. I wasn’t counting.”

  “Goodness! Even more than I thought. I don’t know how you can still stand up.”

  I waved my hand wearily. “I’m sick to death of my own genius, Shurf. I’d like things to be simpler, honestly.”

  “That feeling is the result of overexertion. Tomorrow you’ll feel fine. And you’ll be dizzy with your own powers, believe me. The main thing is not to attach too much importance to either one state or the other. But tell me, how did you step on Lady Melamori’s trace? Did it just come to you all of a sudden? Or did Juffin reconsider and decide to teach you how?”

  “That’s just it! He didn’t teach me.” And I gave Shurf a straightforward account of my morning exploit.

  “This is getting serious, Max.” Lonli-Lokli sounded concerned. “With such uncanny abilities, you’ve got to know how to control your actions. Otherwise it could be dangerous.”

  “Well, what should I do?” I asked for the umpteenth time that day.

  “What should you do? My breathing exercises, for a start, but more often than you’ve been practicing them until now.”

  “That’s all?”

  “For now, yes. You only do them once every two or three days, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes more, sometimes less,” I said with a guilty shrug.

  “You’ll have to be a bit more demanding of yourself,” Shurf said. “There’s nothing worse than real power in the absence of self-discipline. Forgive me, Max, but someone’s got to be a nudnick, and I’m the only one around here who’s willing to take on the role. If you don’t get a grip on yourself—”

  “You’re absolutely right, Shurf,” I said. “You have every right to remind me a dozen times a day. It seems that’s the only way to deal with me.”

  “Are you sure it will help? I can remind you even more often if you like.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” I smiled at him. “But a dozen reminders a day should do the trick.”

  “Agreed,” Lonli-Lokli said.

  I sniffed. This was going to be a barrel of fun, I could tell.

  “Let’s go eat,” said Shurf, standing up leisurely. “Sir Juffin is waiting for us in the Glutton. He just sent me a call and asked me to bring along ‘all that was left of Sir Max.’ Quote, unquote.”

  “I might have guessed,” I muttered. “A message like that has Sir Juffin written all over it.”

  And off we went to the Glutton Bunba.

  “Sinning Magicians, you’re as gloomy as a hungry werewolf, Max!” Juffin said, tearing himself away from the contents of his pot of pâté. “Why do you always try to test your strength in the genre of high drama? It’s not your forte, believe me.”

  “Max really did encounter some serious problems, sir,” Lonli-Lokli said on my behalf.

  “Problems? If only I had problems like his,” Juffin said. “Everything is unfolding just as it should, even better. Since when did you become such a pessimist, Sir Shurf?”

  “It was just a hunch,” Shurf said.

  “Really? I didn’t have any such premonition. Strange, usually our premonitions are synchronized.”

  I looked at my colleagues in perplexity. I felt like a sick man consulting two outstanding specialists whose opinions strongly diverged.

  “Everything is fine, Max. At least it will all turn out fine, I assure you.” Juffin looked at me with uncharacteristic sympathy and warmth. “Do your breathing exercises. Someone in this World has to do them. And don’t fret over things. It’s always better when we remain calm. It’s a law of nature—Sinning Magicians! What kind of idiot is practicing Forbidden Magic right under my very nose? Let’s get out of here, boys. There’s disaster afoot!”

  And Sir Juffin rushed to the door of the Bunba. Lonli-Lokli was standing at the threshold in a flash, his white looxi billowing out like a sail in the summer breeze. I was at their side before I knew it. Our Venerable Head looked around, puzzled.

  “Either I’m completely incompetent, or . . . Lads, something’s happening at the House by the Bridge! How curious.”

  We raced off to Headquarters.

  “It’s all over,” Juffin announced as we flew. “That was really something—more than the hundredth degree, judging by how I was shaking.”

  “Can you feel it without a meter?” I said.

  “I have to. You’re not the only one who suffers under the burden of your own talents. You can’t imagine how inconvenient it is. Especially at night.”

  We walked through the corridors of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order. Sir Juffin steered us into our office. In the doorway he momentarily froze, then let out a short, explosive curse: “Sinning crap!” After a moment, he stepped aside so Lonli-Lokli and I could see.

  The secret door to our detention cell stood wide open. On the threshold lay Captain Shixola. His hands were clenched. On his face was an expression of dreamy serenity.

  I rushed over to him and nudged him gently, though I already knew that it was no use. He was dead.

  I turned to Juffin, distraught. “Was it Jiffa?”

  “Not exactly.” Juffin entered the empty cell and started to sniff something. “Someone helped him, that much is clear.”

  “Who?”

  “The same one who helped him return from the World of the Dead to his beloved Magaxon Forest, that’s who. Damnation!”

  Juffin sat down next to the body of Captain Shixola and placed his hands carefully on his stomach. A moment later he sighed bitterly and got up to open the window.

  “Well, things have gone terribly amiss. Poor Shixola was a very talented medium. How could I have overlooked him? The World knows only one like him in every dozen thousand. With those abilities, I should have stayed close by his side. I shouldn’t have let him out of my sight.”

  Juffin sank into his armchair. Lonli-Lokli stood in the doorway nodding thoughtfully, then took a seat near the boss.

  “Jiffa went down the Dark Path,” he told Juffin coldly. “Granted, you can move a dead man only five or six miles, but that’s enough.”

  “Yes,” Juffin said. He thought a bit
, then asked, “To the south?”

  Lonli-Lokli shrugged and said, “You know I have no sense of direction.”

  Juffin frowned and sniffed the air. “Yes, southward. That’s certain.”

  I stared at my colleagues in bewilderment. Their conversation seemed to me to be the most improbable event of this whole crazy day. After hovering around the doorway a bit, I stepped inside the empty cell.

  “Don’t go in there!” Juffin barked out. “If you step on Jiffa’s trace, you’ll find out the Dark Magicians are nothing to joke about.”

  I went back into the office and sat down on the windowsill. I wanted very much to cry, whether from anger, or helplessness, or simply because the death of the good Captain Shixola was incompatible with my notions of how events should unfold in my one and only life.

  I didn’t cry, of course, but just stared dully into space. Some kind of strange barrier had sprung up between me and the rest of the world—transparent but impenetrable. Even the boss’s voice sounded like a radio coming from behind the wall.

  “It was a real Master who revived Jiffa,” Sir Juffin said. “He was the most vital of all dead men I can remember. And what a shield he had! I could easily have killed him—you too, Shurf—but no one else could have done it. But I couldn’t dissuade him, couldn’t reason with him. That’s why I planned to take him to the Seven-Leaf Clover. There are a few old-timers there who might have been able to talk some sense into him.

  “Melifaro, old chap, good you were able to make it so quickly. I need all the information I can get on Pafoota Jongo, Bubuli Jola Giox, Atva Kuraisa, and Joffla Kumbaya. Maybe that’s enough for now. The others who took part in the Great Royal Hunt in the Magaxon Forest could hardly have anything to do with this, as far as I know.”

  “Pafoota couldn’t either,” Lonli-Lokli said. “I see him from time to time. Once every few years in the Fat Skeleton. It’s a sort of tradition. I can witness to the fact that he’s not capable of it anymore. The fellow squandered his power. He has a big family and doesn’t practice anymore, obviously. He seems very happy.”