The Stranger's Woes

by Max Frei

  “Ha! Dream on,” said Kofa. “You think they’re going to come up with new ones every day now? Sorry, but no. You are an important person here, no doubt, but not that important.”

  “Praise be the Magicians! So, what’s the news?” I said.

  “Nothing special, except that I arrested a countryman of yours less than half an hour ago. In the Sated Skeleton.”

  “My countryman?” I felt like I was about to hyperventilate. A compatriot of mine had already appeared in Echo once before. He turned out to be a serial killer who had accidentally stumbled across my first Door between Worlds. The poor fellow used that metaphysical journey for the only purpose he could think of: sating his appetite and committing murders at double his usual rate. In the end, I had to put him out of his misery, and I didn’t like it a single bit.

  “But of course. Why are you so surprised?” said Sir Kofa with a sly wink. “True, the County Vook is quite remote from the Capital, but some people are very fond of traveling.”

  It was impossible to conceal my relief. The fellow in question was simply an inhabitant of the County Vook and the Barren Lands. According to the story of my origins that Juffin had concocted for me, those backwoods were my homeland. I’m pretty sure that none of my colleagues believed in that nonsense, but they were tactful enough not to voice their doubts. They were quite happy with me the way I was—what with the mysterious air and all.

  “So, what did he do, this countryman of mine?” To be honest, I couldn’t care less about the criminal adventures of some inhabitant of the Barren Lands. I had to stay in character, though, so I forced myself to feign real curiosity.

  “Nothing special,” said Sir Kofa. “The fellow fell victim to his own ignorance.”

  “What, he didn’t know how to add two and two?” said Melifaro, guffawing. “I didn’t know that was against the law.”

  Sir Kofa laughed, too, snatched a pastry from my plate, took a bite, and continued: “The guy had a signet ring that allowed him to read the thoughts of others. Nothing to brag about, really. During the Epoch of Orders almost every Echoer had toys like that. At the beginning of the Code Epoch, however, they were confiscated by special decree of Gurig VII. In the first place, it was White Magic of the twenty-fourth degree. And, second, it was a glaring breach of Article 48 of the Code of Krember, which stated that every citizen of the Unified Kingdom had the right to his or her own personal secrets. Your fellow countryman, naturally, didn’t give a fig about ‘personal secrets.’ He got the signet ring from a ‘good friend’ of his some ninety years ago. I suspect that the ‘friend’ was one of the fugitive Junior Magicians. Back then they roamed the outskirts of the Unified Kingdom in swarms.”

  “What’s going to happen to him now?” I said.

  “Nothing special. In a few days, the innocent victim will have to part with his precious stone, accept monetary compensation for the confiscated talisman, and return home. Xolomi is overpopulated as it is. No need to detain him any further.”

  “Perhaps I should pay him a visit,” I said. “After all, he’s my countryman.” I was curious to see a real inhabitant of the Barren Lands. I had the right to know what I was supposed to look like in the eyes of the Capital dwellers.

  “Have you been missing the smell of manure?” Melifaro said. “You think you can find a piece and get a whiff if you search the fellow’s pockets? I know what you’re up to.”

  “You know, you may very well have to get involved in this case,” Sir Kofa agreed. “The fellow didn’t come to Echo alone. There’s a whole caravan with him. Our compassionate citizens have already informed the terrified nomads that a countryman of theirs is a big shot in the Secret Investigative Force. I think they’re already on their way to the House by the Bridge. Do you have any idea what you might be in for?”

  “This is going to be fun.” At first, I was exhilarated, but then I started thinking about the consequences. The whole business could easily blow my cover. I frowned. “I think I’m going to drop in on Juffin.”

  “I think you’d better, my boy,” said Sir Kofa. “He also thinks you should drop in on him. Or he’ll be thinking that soon. Anyway, I’m sorry I interrupted your lunch.”

  “That’s quite all right, Sir Kofa. I’m ready to put up with a lot more than that from you.” I stuffed the last pastry into my mouth and rose from the table.

  “Wow, get a load of Mr. Busybody!” said Melifaro. “Don’t even think of abandoning me now. We’re leaving tonight.”

  “Don’t worry. Have I ever passed up an opportunity to fill my belly at your expense? I love your parents’ cooking.”

  “Such commitment,” said Melifaro. “Such profound ambition in the name of a single idea. Such selfless service to one’s own stomach.”

  “Yup, that’s me,” I said with pride. “Lonli-Lokli once taught me a series of excellent breathing exercises. They help me focus on the main goal and not waste my concentration on trifling matters. The result is standing before you now.”

  I found Sir Juffin Hully in his office. When I went in, he was trying to assume a serious expression. It didn’t work very well, though. Instead, his refractory face betrayed a cunning smile.

  “Ready to meet your fellow countrymen?” he asked.

  “You know very well that I’m not. You can’t be ready for something like that. By the way, it was your idea that I was supposed to hail from the Barren Lands. You’ve got to help me out now!”

  “Don’t panic. We’ll patch up your biography in no time. No big deal. It goes like this: You’re an orphan—you don’t remember your parents. You were brought up by some old fugitive Magician by the name of . . . No, he kept his name secret from everyone, even from you. That is just what you might expect of a fugitive Magician. You lived in a small house on the boundless plains. The old man taught you magic, little by little. Then he died, and you set off for the Capital to find an old friend of your guardian’s—me, that is. That should be enough. What do you think?”

  “Sounds great,” I said. “So vague, yet so watertight. I’m sure my accent is nowhere close to that of the real nomads—not to mention the rest of my quirks—but this hypothetical refugee Magician would easily account for all of that. I mean, who knows what he may have taught me?”

  “Right. What you need, though, is a regular name. ‘Max’ is way beyond the pale. It doesn’t resemble their names even remotely. Not to mention ours. A man has to know his own name, doesn’t he? No one’s going to believe that your guardian Magician wasn’t powerful enough to learn your true name. That’s just not how it works.”

  “Okay, let’s make up a name for me,” I said, somewhat flippantly.

  “No, it has to be a real name. Can you remember one off the top of your head? You’ve read the third volume of the Encyclopedia to shreds.”

  “But that was so long ago,” I said. “I can run back home and fetch it real quick, though. You know I’m as fast as lightning . . . No, wait, I think I remember one name. Fanghaxra. Yes, that’s it, Fanghaxra from the Lands of Fanghaxra.”

  “Fanghaxra.” said Juffin pensively. “Well, it does sound like one of their names. I think you remembered it correctly. If not . . . Oh, Magicians take those nomads. Why should we worry our heads over them?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “What’s the point? They’re nomads. Let them wander where they will. For all I care, they can go to where it’s hot.”

  “Well, that’s just what it’s like where they come from,” said Juffin with a smile. “We must show love and concern for them, my boy. It’s politics, you see. Our guests dwell on disputed territory—the very border of the County Vook and the Barren Lands. The Barren Lands, if you’ll remember, do not belong to the Unified Kingdom, or any other country for that matter. I’d be happy to get rid of them in the quickest way possible, but His Majesty Gurig VIII is obsessed with the idea of hanging a new map of the Unified Kingdom in his dining hall. His Majesty envisions the Barren Lands as part of the Unified Kingdom. Naturally, the Royal C
artographers will simply draw a new map—no one really wants to wage war for the sake of some backwater. Seen in this light, the arrest of your ‘countryman,’ if you’ll pardon the expression, is an event of national importance. We’ll just keep him here for a little while, then let him go. We’ll also prepare all the necessary papers, and in our reports the poor fellow will be referred to as a citizen of the Unified Kingdom. Do you follow?”

  “It may come as a surprise, but I do follow you. This is called ‘creating a precedent,’ right?”

  “Goodness gracious,” said Juffin. “You’re a smart boy. Perhaps you should think of a career at the Royal Court of His Majesty.”

  “As if! I know their salaries are no match for ours.”

  “What a greedy young man you are,” said Juffin, smiling. “Okay, let’s have a word with your countrymen, shall we? They’ve been crowding the reception room for a while now. Then you can go with Melifaro, and may you have a safe and quick journey.”

  “Can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?”

  “Me? Not at all. Can you guess why I let you go so easily?”

  “Frankly, no. I haven’t a clue. You spent so much time and effort explaining why I needed to keep a round-the-clock vigil in the House by the Bridge for days on end, because I’ve become so very indispensable, and then—all of a sudden—this.”

  “I want you to spend the night in his grandfather’s room,” Juffin explained. “When you come back, you’ll be as good as new. You deserve a good rest.”

  “Oh, yes, the room! Gosh, I almost forgot about it. That was quite an organization, that Order of the Secret Grass. I’d have joined it myself if they’d have let me, which I doubt. But thank you anyway, Juffin!”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m doing it for my own sake. Incidentally, back then they would have accepted you into any Order. Simply out of respect for your life story. Your actual life story, I mean. And now, run along to see your countrymen. Then come back and tell me about it. I’m burning with curiosity.”

  “All right,” I said, standing up from the chair. “So, I’m Fanghaxra from the Lands of Fanghaxra. Boy, what a name.”

  “I suspect the others are even worse,” said Juffin as I was leaving the office.

  I went into the reception room.

  I’m a strange bird. Up until the last minute I had been sure that the dwellers of the Barren Lands would be narrow-eyed, high-cheekboned Paul Bunyans wearing Mongolian robes, cone-shaped fur hats, and archer’s quivers on their belts. That’s what nomads looked like in my imagination, at least. My imagination failed to take into account that this was happening in another World.

  At first glance, it might have seemed that a couple dozen ordinary Echoers had crowded into the reception room. Very commonplace faces—some of them pleasant, some less so.

  Their attire, however, was a whole different ball game, let me tell you. On their heads they wore babushkas. These headscarves were counterbalanced by shorts that went down to just below the knees. To top it off, the nomads wore huge rucksacks strapped over their shoulders.

  Jeepers, I thought. Is this what I was supposed to look like when I was younger? What a reputation I must have in the Capital.

  I shook my head in amazement and just then noticed another incongruous detail: it was absolutely quiet in the room. Not only did the nomads not speak, they virtually created the silence. It seemed that they even held their breath. My “countrymen” stared at me.

  Okay, I thought. Looks like they’re not going to prostrate themselves before me. Which is good.

  Finally, one of the nomads, an old man, his hair completely gray (he looked like the oldest of the bunch), stepped up to me.

  “If you’re one of ours, you must help Jimax,” he said in a hoarse voice. “That is what the Law says, and what do we have but the Law?”

  “Nothing,” I said mechanically. “I will help Jimax. After the sun has taken leave of the skies several times, Jimax will return to you. That I promise. He will be compensated for the inconvenience. I will see to it personally. Fare ye well.”

  Having spoken my piece, I turned to go, with a sense of relief. My job here is done, I thought.

  “Let us know your name,” said the old man. “We must know the praiseworthy name of the one who abides by the Law, even so far away from the homeland. I mean your clan name, not the name the local barbarians gave you.”

  “I am Fanghaxra, from the Lands of Fanghaxra. Now I must leave, I have— What are you doing, gentlemen? Stop this at once!”

  Now they were prostrating themselves before me. They fell on the floor all at once, with the discipline and enthusiasm of well-drilled soldiers.

  “You have come back to your people, Fanghaxra!” the old man said reverently. He looked up at me, his eyes watering with emotion. “The people of the Lands of Fanghaxra hail thee!”

  “Still, you should get up,” I said. “Okay, I have come back to my people. All right, all right. Big deal.”

  Then I realized with horror why I remembered the name Fanghaxra. This was the name of a legendary child-king of some absentminded nomads who had lost their sovereign on the boundless steppes. Then, if I remembered correctly, his subjects had cursed their own existence. This was my favorite story in the third volume of the Encyclopedia of the World by Sir Manga Melifaro. Darn it, why had I remembered the name of that king, out of all possible names! The last thing I needed was to become an impostor king of the nomads.

  “Look,” I said dryly, “let’s make a deal. You get up off your knees, walk outside, and go back to doing whatever you were doing. Nice and simple. And I go back to doing what I was doing. In a few days, you get your precious Jimax back, safe and sound, and that’s it. Okay? Farewell, then.”

  I flung open the front door for them and froze in disbelief. A herd of moose was grazing in front of the House by the Bridge. Well, not really moose, of course, but of all animals, the so-called horses of the Barren Lands most resembled the moose. They were large and stooping, and they had antlers. The antlers were decorated with little thingamajigs: ribbons, bells, tiny jugs, and other bric-a-brac. It was very touching.

  “Look, guys,” I said, trying be conciliatory. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I’m really, really busy. So please get up off your knees, and never, ever kneel again. Before anyone. Got it? Such a nice, proud people. It doesn’t become you.”

  “Your word is Law!” said the old nomad, assuming a vertical stance. “You have given us back our hope.”

  “Hope is a darn-fool feeling,” I said, quoting Mackie Ainti in spite of myself.

  Later I would come to regret my feeble attempts at wit, but what was done was done.

  “Everything is going to be all right. Go now, guys,” I said, pointing at the door.

  The nomads went out without saying a word, mounted their weird steeds, and soon disappeared around the corner. I shook my head, somewhat dazed, and went back to Juffin’s office to surprise him.

  “Now I’m a king, too,” I said, standing in the doorway. “It’s my own fault, though. I should have remembered some other name.” I briefed him on the story of my sudden coronation.

  “No big deal,” the boss said. “So you’re a king. Nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re not going to send me abroad to fulfill my regal duties, are you?”

  “Don’t be silly, Max. Of course I won’t. If anything, you’ll just run off on your own. Then again, if you do I’ll hunt you down. When I catch you, I’ll force you to go without lunch for a week. Got that?”

  “You’re way too cruel, Juffin. I haven’t eaten in a year!”

  “You have been sleeping for a year, though,” said Juffin. “Now, Your Majesty, be a good sport. Don your traveling robes, and go seek out Sir Manga Melifaro. Isn’t he the author of your misfortune? Go and wreak your revenge.”

  “That’s just what I’ll do,” I said. “I’ll devour everything within reach on the table. That’ll show him.”

  “Excellent. You h
ave two days and no more. I seem to remember Melifaro saying something about three days, but you can forget about it. Two days, and not an hour more. As if he knows anything about anything.”

  “Exactly. He doesn’t know anything about anything. No one needs more than two days of rest,” I said.

  On this uplifting note, we parted company.

  In the hallway, I ran into Melamori. She smiled at me with a mixture of joy and sadness. I think my face underwent a similar transformation.

  “Leaving?” she said.

  “Just for two days. It’s nothing compared to an eternity, right?”

  “But I haven’t yet showed you how I can drive the amobiler. I still have a long way to go to catch up with you, but I think I stand a good chance to win the bet. One day I’ll beat you, Max. I swear to all the Magicians!”

  “I never doubted it for a second, Melamori. Do you want to give me a ride?”

  “Of course, I do,” said Melamori with a vigorous nod. “It’s so good to have you back, Max.”

  “You didn’t think I’d be back?”

  “Well . . . not all the time. Though Sir Juffin said you’d definitely come back. It’s just that sometimes I thought he didn’t believe it himself. But you came back after all. Here you are!”

  “It’s me all right. Remember I told you it would take more than that to get rid of me?”

  “I do, and I said I didn’t want to get rid of you in the first place. But you disappeared anyway. Praise be the Magicians, you didn’t disappear forever, but a year is still a long time.”

  “If it were up to me, I would—”

  “I know. And if it were up to me . . . Strange lives we have, Max. Do you think we’re capable of making our own decisions at all? It isn’t really up to us, is it.”

  “I guess not,” I said. “I’m getting used to it, but there was a time I was really sorry about it. And I’m still kicking myself over it.”

  Melamori forced a smile and nodded. “You know, just a few days before our little jaunt in the Magaxon Forest I had been thinking that maybe we shouldn’t make such a big deal about those ancient prejudices—the Quarter of Trysts, destiny, death, and all that. Maybe we should have listened to our hearts, and whatever happened, happened, you know? But as soon as I started thinking I could just ignore the ancient taboos, you almost got killed in the Magaxon Forest. It seemed like a sign, so ominous that I got scared all over again. And then I decided I should just leave well enough alone, that it was all for the best. A year is an awful long time, and I’ve learned to live without you, and without regrets. Well, almost learned.”