The Stranger's Woes

by Max Frei

  “Right.”

  “But you will come back. If only to kill Mudlax.”

  “Filthy Mudlax,” said Aloxto.

  “Of course. Two years is not that long, if you think about it.”

  “It’s too long,” said Aloxto. “Have you ever tried to count the days one must live to go though a year?”

  “Believe it or not, I have.”

  “Yet you speak as though you have no notion of time. I do not want to leave, and I cannot stay. You do not want to come to Arvarox with me, or at least let me conquer another land for you, where you would like to live. I am completely lost, my lady. It’s easier for me die, and I will. I swear by Toila Liomurik’s armor!”

  “Don’t you dare give me any of that dying business,” I muttered under my breath. I looked at Kurush. The wise bird was sleeping on the back of my chair. “Did you hear that?”

  “No. What happened?” The buriwok opened one of its yellow eyes.

  “That worshiper of the very tips of your feathers with a foghorn for a voice is going to shock Lady Melamori with the disgusting view of his dead body,” I said. “I don’t like it.”

  “That’s his business,” said Kurush.

  “No, it’s my business, too,” I said. “First, I like him. Second, Lady Melamori likes him, which is even more important. Kurush, my friend, please do something. You’re the only one he’ll listen to.”

  “I’m going to fly away from you and settle in Arvarox,” said Kurush. “No one will go waking me up there with their silly human demands.”

  “Do you think they bake good pastry there, too?” I said.

  “That’s the only reason I don’t fulfill my threat. Fine, Max, if you really think I must.”

  “If only out of diplomatic considerations.” I made a serious face. “Toila Liomurik the Conqueror of Arvarox will not be happy to learn that the beautiful Sir Aloxto Allirox—who slays the Kulyox Bird with just two glances and three compliments, if I remember correctly—kicked the bucket so close to the palace of His Majesty King Gurig. Who will bear the Third Chamber Pot to Toila Liomurik at the New Moon Feast right after his spouse and the Senior Cupbearer? Wait, what’s this got to do with the cupbearer, I wonder?”

  “You’re completely mixed up, Max. No wonder, though. People always get mixed up,” said Kurush.

  He flew into the Hall of Common Labor through the half-open door. I climbed outside through the window that Sir Juffin Hully had charmed. I was the only one who could go through it unharmed. This time my exit went pretty smoothly, too. I didn’t feel anything unearthly, but my heels were burning as if I had been running on hot coals. I examined them to make sure they were okay and then went for a little walk. Let them think that I hadn’t even been at the House by the Bridge, I thought. In my book, if you want to do charity work, you’d better do it anonymously. Otherwise, it’s not worth doing at all.

  I returned a half hour later with a whole dozen pastries for Kurush—he deserved them. This time I used the door and walked through the Hall of Common Labor. Aloxto was still there. His expression was one of admiration and reverence—the consequences of talking to the buriwok, I assumed. The furry spider-like creature was purring gently on his shoulder.

  “Where have you been, Max?” said Melamori.

  “The only place I can be when someone asks me where I have been: somewhere where there’s food. Spent an hour in the Sated Skeleton. Do you want to follow my example? It’s a great place.”

  “Sounds good,” said Melamori.

  Aloxto Allirox looked at me with disbelief.

  That’s right, I thought. Those Arvaroxian heroes always sense when someone’s telling an untruth. Now he’s trying to figure out why I’m doing it.

  Fortunately, Aloxto didn’t deem it necessary to comment. I quickly bid the couple adieu and locked the door behind me. Kurush was already asleep on the back of my chair. I didn’t want to risk waking him up again. The parcel with pastries from the Glutton could wait. The night was young.

  The next day I had to go to work at noon. We were saying goodbye to Aloxto. The Surf Thorn was casting off before sunset, and the Bighearted Master of two times fifty Sharptooths demanded a grandiose parting ceremony.

  Melifaro looked like the happiest person in the whole Unified Kingdom. He was sitting on the table swinging his legs, with a dreamy expression of delight.

  “You look so much better now that Rulen Bagdasys is gone,” I said. “Have you decided what to do with him yet?”

  “Oh, that I decided a long time ago. But you no catch, Mr. Nightmare, as your rotund buddy has noted on many an occasion. Just wait, and you’ll see it yourself.”

  “Okay,” I said. I yawned and took the bottle of Elixir of Kaxar out of the drawer. I had gotten up quite some time ago. It was time to wake up completely.

  Half an hour later everybody was assembled in the office. Melamori was the last one to arrive. On her shoulder sat Aloxto’s spidery pet. It was visibly discombobulated by the change.

  “That’s some brooch you got there,” said Melifaro. “A truly royal gift.”

  “This is not a brooch; it’s a hoob. His name is Leleo. For your information, this animal is the keeper of souls of their entire clan. Did anyone ever give you a keeper of souls as a gift, Melifaro?”

  “Magicians forbid, no!”

  “Well, shush, then,” said Melamori.

  “Iron logic,” said Sir Kofa. “Let me see your wonderful new pet, Melamori.”

  “I’ve read that these creatures can sing,” said Lonli-Lokli. “Is this true?”

  “Oh, they do. And how! But he doesn’t always respond to my commands. He needs time to get used to me.”

  “A very human quality,” said Juffin. “We all need time to get used to something new. Ah, here are our friends from Arvarox. Can you hear them? Oh, no, did Aloxto think they’d all fit into our reception room?”

  The monotonous knocking of their inflexible capes could be heard coming from the street. I looked out the window and saw that Juffin was right. Aloxto had brought to the House by the Bridge all fifty Sharptooths who weren’t keeping vigil by the walls of Xolomi.

  “They are staying outside,” said Melamori. “Aloxto brought them with him as . . . well, it’s like dressing up for him. When a high-ranking Arvaroxian commander goes to a meeting that he considers an extraordinary event, he brings as many of his warriors as he can. Back home he would have come with ‘five hundred times fifty’ of them, in his words.”

  “Did he bring them along when he went out on dates with you, too?” said Melifaro.

  “No, praise be the Magicians. You see, they don’t consider a date to be such an extraordinary event.”

  Aloxto Allirox came in accompanied by only one of his warriors, a very young and very handsome man. He was about my height, which was already pretty tall. But next to his commander, he looked like a puny teenager.

  “This is Thotta, my shaman,” said Aloxto. I think he was a little nervous. “Thotta often speaks with the Dead God and almost always understands what the Dead God says. He will speak the words of the Dead God to you because my words will fail to thank you enough.”

  “I hope we will be able to appreciate the honor fully,” said Juffin, surprised. His eyes were gleaming with curiosity.

  “You will,” said Aloxto.

  You just don’t know us well enough, I thought.

  “The Dead God lets our commander give you his weapon as a gift,” said the shaman. “You should know that the warriors of Arvarox never give their weapons to outlanders. It only happened once before, in the ancient times, when the Conqueror of Arvarox, Libori Fosafik the Invisible Head, gave his sword to your King Mynin. Our first gift is for you, sir.”

  Thotta gave Juffin a piercing look while Aloxto detached his “machete” from his belt.

  “This sword is made from the fin of the biggest Ruxas fish that has ever been caught in the sea,” Thotta continued. “The same sword was given to your King Mynin back in the day. I di
d not think I had the right to make such a gift to you, for only equals may exchange gifts. But the Dead God told me you would not be angry.”

  “Oh, not at all,” said Juffin, accepting the “machete.” He looked very flattered.

  “The second gift is for the one who did not let the clan lose its commander.” The shaman was now looking at Melifaro.

  Aloxto handed him his lethal “flyswatter” and said, “You have seen this weapon in action. I made it myself from the tooth-ridden tongue of the Kydoo beast. This is truly a dangerous weapon.”

  “I have no reason to doubt it,” said Melifaro, looking extremely pleased.

  Then the shaman turned to Lonli-Lokli. “The Dead God favors you especially, sir. But he did not explain why.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Shurf very seriously. “I should very much like to know the reason for such goodwill.”

  “You do not need a weapon, for you yourself are the best weapon,” said Aloxto. “But even you may need protection one day. I think my helmet is the sturdiest helmet under the sky. The six-thorn Uxunruk fish, from the head of which the helmet was made at my request, I caught myself.”

  “It is beautiful,” said Lonli-Lokli, admiring the helmet. “A true work of art.”

  “Our next gift is for you, O master of many faces.” The shaman gave a respectful bow to Sir Kofa.

  Aloxto held out a sheathed object. “This is a death-bearing whip with two times fifty stings of the wild Zengo wasps,” he said. “The stings are every bit as deadly now as they were when the Zengo wasps were still buzzing in their nests. But a wise man of your caliber will be able to handle them.”

  “I will try,” said Kofa. “Whatever have I not handled in my life!”

  “You, my lady, have already received the most precious gift,” the shaman said to Melamori. “The Dead God said you would be able to keep the souls of our clan. He is pleased that our hoob will sing his songs for you.”

  “Will he really sing?” said Melamori. “So far, he’s only been sulking and missing his owner.”

  “He will sing when I leave,” said Aloxto. “The hoob does everything in its proper time.”

  “I know, you told me that. It’s just that I think he wants to go back to you.”

  “The desires of only a few creatures under the sun who come into this World matter,” said Aloxto. “And Leleo is not one of them. Neither am I.”

  The shaman now turned to Lookfi. I think there was even more respect in his voice now than when he spoke to Juffin. “You, who can speak with many buriwoks at the same time, will you agree to accept our gift?”

  “Of course I will, gentlemen,” said Lookfi with a shy smile on his face. “It is so very kind of you.”

  “When I set off on this journey, Toila Liomurik the Silver Bigwig, the Conqueror of Arvarox, took off his cape made from the thickest wool of the sheep from the King’s Flock and gave it to me,” said Aloxto. “He will be happy to know that his cape protects from the wind the one who protects the lives of more than two times fifty buriwoks. Please accept it, sir.”

  Then the shaman turned to me. “The Dead God knows you well, sir,” he said. “He spoke to me at length about you, but I understood very little. The Dead God told me we have nothing that you could use. You have all you need. That is what the Dead God said.”

  “You sure know how to pick friends.” Melifaro’s voice broke the ringing silence. “That Dead God is bending over backwards to leave you with no gifts. What pettiness. Calls himself a god.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I’ll deal with him personally next time I meet him.” My colleagues smiled, but the two Arvaroxians looked at me with venerating horror.

  “I truly wanted to leave some of my precious things with you, Sir Max,” said Aloxto. “But it is beyond my powers to resist the will of the Dead God.”

  “You have left your most precious thing with me, Aloxto. I once had the pleasure of hearing one of your songs. It’s safe to say that it’s still ringing in my ears.”

  Poor Aloxto accepted my caustic compliment. “I am happy to know that you will remember me.”

  “You can rest assured that I will.” This time I was being absolutely honest: things like that are hard to forget.

  After Aloxto and I exchanged compliments, Melifaro turned to the shaman. “Do you think your Dead God would mind if I made a present to Aloxto? Or should I not even bother?”

  “You may do as you wish. You saved the life of our commander and the honor of the clan. Any deed of yours will be considered a blessing.”

  “Great,” said Melifaro.

  From the pocket of his looxi he produced the precious signet ring with the tiny figure of Rulen Bagdasys frozen in the middle of the transparent stone. Then it dawned on me: that trickster Melifaro had decided to join together the two culprits of his short but deep depression and see what would happen.

  Juffin noticed that I was putting up a heroic fight with laughter and sent me a call.

  What’s going on? Are you in on this?

  Oh boy, let him tell you. This object poses no threat to Sir Aloxto’s life, though, believe me.

  I’d like to see anything that could possibly pose any threat to Sir Aloxto’s life.

  Juffin was tortured not by anxiety but by ordinary human curiosity.

  There is something that can. A conflict between his wishes and necessity, for instance.

  That’s a good one. Okay, enjoy the show.

  And enjoy the show I did. Melifaro was exercising his fine oratory skills.

  “This is a magical object, Aloxto. You can wear it on your finger, or you can keep it in your pocket—it doesn’t matter. But if one day you feel sad, throw this signet ring under your feet. The stone must hit the ground, the harder the better. You will see what happens then. I hope you will be greatly entertained.”

  Melifaro’s tone was sad rather than mocking, although there was plenty of both emotions in his speech.

  “Thank you. I think I will get to use your gift when the time comes.”

  Aloxto took the signet, admired the tiny Rulen Bagdasys frozen in the middle of the stone, and then put it on his pinkie. It was ridiculous to experiment with any other digit on his huge hand.

  “This is a good thing, commander,” said the shaman.

  Juffin raised his eyebrows. He was sure that Melifaro would do something nasty to top it off.

  “It is time, gentlemen,” said Aloxto, nodding courteously. “I must hurry. The sooner I leave your city, the sooner I can return.”

  “I’ll see you off,” said Melamori.

  “No. It is a bad sign if someone stays at the pier when the ship casts off.”

  “I’m not going to walk to the pier with you. Just to the Wall of Joxira Menka, the border of the New City.”

  “Thank you. It is very kind of you,” said Aloxto.

  I believe it never occurred to him that you could walk someone only halfway. If Aloxto were in charge of awarding the Nobel Prize, Melamori would have received it for her brilliant idea.

  When they left I made a sour face.

  “I didn’t get a present,” I pouted like a spoiled child. “I’m hurt, hurt, hurt!”

  “Yes, but you got a compliment that I, for one, never got myself,” said Juffin.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They said you have everything you need.”

  “And?”

  “The ancient Sacred Book of Arvarox, all copies of which they burned about a thousand dozen years ago after they had memorized it, says that ‘humans will remain humans as long they are lacking something,’” said Lonli-Lokli.

  “In other words, they flippantly made you a god,” said Juffin.

  “And now their shaman will visit me every night, stand by my windows, and ask my opinion on the most important national issues?” I said. “Well, well. How were you able to read that burned book, Shurf? Are you that old?”

  “No, but I have a decent library. I have a few rare editions, including o
ne of the three remaining copies of the Sacred Book of Arvarox. There is some dark story connected with those three surviving copies. One of them was given to our King Mynin—”

  “For educational purposes,” said Melifaro.

  “Something like that. Or some pirates stole them from Arvarox. In any case, there are only three copies remaining in the World, and I have one. A most interesting read.”

  “May I borrow it?” I said.

  “You may, except that you never come to visit me.”

  “Oh, I will,” I said. “We gods are busy folk, naturally, but I’m sure I can spare a few minutes for you.”

  Meanwhile, Melifaro was briefing Juffin on the unfortunate lot of Rulen Bagdasys.

  “At first I was mad at both of them—the Isamonian and Aloxto. But then I accepted them, and even began to love them.”

  “Love them?” I said.

  “Yes, imagine that. Granted, it was a strange kind of love, but still . . . I almost canceled the show altogether. Then I realized that Rulen Bagdasys was quite capable of cheering up poor Aloxto. The warriors of Arvarox must appreciate rude jokes, and jokes don’t get any ruder than those of Mr. Rulen Bagdasys.”

  Sir Juffin looked very happy. “Max,” he said, “since you’re a king and a god and all that, maybe you can let me have three days off work? Kimpa’s gone. The house is empty and quiet. I want to get some sleep and maybe read a good book. I haven’t had more than one day off in a row for more than three hundred years, I’ll have you know. I’d like to try—maybe it’s possible. I have no one else to ask for this.”

  “Permission granted. I’m not a tyrant, after all. But why didn’t you ask the Arvaroxian shaman? He would have put in a good word for you with the Dead God himself. Who am I, after all?”

  “That’s quite all right,” said Juffin. “You’ll do just fine. Don’t forget to pray to Sir Max every night, gentlemen. Order yourselves a good dinner at the Glutton. Do whatever you want, in other words. I’m going home. Boy, I wish you all had a blanket like mine!”

  “Well, I’ll be,” said Sir Kofa, following Juffin with his eyes. “This Kettarian is going home to sleep before dusk and taking a few days off. I’ve known him much longer than you, lads, and I haven’t seen him do anything like this before.”