The Stranger's Woes

by Max Frei

  I could hear Boboota’s shouts even in my office, but I didn’t mind. I began to miss them when it was quiet for too long.

  “You look like a country hick who dreamed his whole life of seeing an Ekki Balbalao show, and whose dream finally came true,” said Melifaro.

  “I am a country hick. A simple, ignorant king from abroad—who, by the way, has no idea who Ekki Balbalao is.”

  “A hole in the heavens above you, pal! He’s the best tenor in the Unified Kingdom,” Melifaro said, shaking his head. “I’m not the most avid operagoer in Echo, but not knowing who Ekki Balbalao is too much, even for someone like you. What do you do in your spare time, monster?”

  “Go out to taverns and chase women, frothing at the mouth,” I said. Then I added, “Besides, I don’t have any spare time because I spend my best years at work. Is he really that good?”

  “He’s okay,” Melifaro said. “Actually, my leisure time is not that different from how you describe yours, except that I keep my mouth shut most of the time. And so should you. All in all, the strains of Balbalao’s sweet voice don’t reach my ears very often.”

  “We’re so ignorant and uncivilized,” I said. “No one would believe us if we told them.”

  “Sure they would,” said Melifaro. “It’s written across our foreheads.”

  Melifaro finished our discourse on the arts, saying that it was time for him to go. I stared at the sky, which was growing dark, and submitted to fate. The day had gone by amazingly fast, and I had a long, uneventful night of solitude ahead of me. Lookfi had left work at sunset, as usual, and Melamori had fled even sooner, Magicians knew where.

  At around midnight, when I was beginning to doze off, Tekki’s call reached me.

  Max, it’s awful! Just awful. That friend of yours, Mr. Pu, he’s—

  What, has he gotten drunk again and fallen asleep on his barstool?

  I only wish. He is rather smashed, but he’s wide awake. He wants to start something with me. He’s all weepy, and he keeps trying to kiss my hand. It’s pathetic. You know me, I could easily turn him into a pile of ashes without a second thought, but then they’d throw me in Xolomi. You would.

  Don’t be silly. I’d cover up for you and protect you, risking life and limb and my astronomical salary. Then again, it’s not the best way to spend the rest of my life. Say, can you really turn him into ashes?

  Sure. Why?

  I wish I had your skills. You know, we just learned today that nobody but Lonli-Lokli can incinerate those sinning undead, but he and Juffin have left. Now we have to kill them and bury them, and then kill them and bury them all over again. I’m so tired of it.

  Well, I don’t think I can incinerate the undead. Those beasts are pretty tough. Even White Fire is useless against them.

  White Fire? What’s that?

  It’s the best and most reliable way of incinerating anyone. The one hundred and thirty-seventh degree of White Magic. One of the favorite tricks of my infamous daddy. Anyway, would you mind if I sent this tubby chatterbox to the House by the Bridge? You’re probably bored out of your mind down there.

  To be honest, I am pretty bored. All right, then. Send him over here. You probably want to go to bed now anyway.

  I do, especially since you might be showing up an hour before dawn.

  Don’t count on it tonight. But I agree, you have the right to live without Anday slobbering all over you. Fine, send Anday over here. Even pirates get the blues.

  Less than thirty minutes later, a sleepy courier knocked on the door.

  “A visitor for me? Small, tubby, pretty tipsy, and very sassy?” I said before the courier could open his mouth.

  “You’re exactly right, Sir Max,” he said. After years of service in the House by the Bridge, he had lost his ability to be surprised. “Should I let him in, then?”

  “I suppose, since he’s already here. Go ahead and let him in.”

  “Max, I’m so very, very sad,” said Anday, still in the doorway. “You sure don’t catch what it’s like to be very, very sad.”

  “Believe it or not, I do catch,” I said. “I do that exercise at least a dozen times a day, trust me.”

  “What exercise?” Anday said, staring at me with his beautiful almond-shaped eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “The exercise in sadness, of course.” I poured him a cup of kamra. “Not exactly a drink you’d appreciate at this time of the day, but it’ll do for a change.”

  “You can be sad, too?” Anday said.

  He looked like an alchemist from the Middle Ages who had just been told there was no philosopher’s stone. Anday hesitated, processing the information, and then corrected himself.

  “So you do catch, Max! I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t quite understand what he was sorry for but decided not to press it. The whole ”catch” routine was beginning to get really old with me.

  “Max, when you first met me I was hungry,” said Anday, staring at his half-empty cup with disgust. “Today, I’m full. But this doesn’t change anything: I must leave.”

  “For Tasher?”

  “Tasher will do, I guess,” Anday said. “It’s really not too bad there. It’s warm, fruit trees grow right in your backyard, and almost no one can read or write. That’s why they catch how cool it is if you can. But I really need to go away. Doesn’t really matter where, as long as it’s away from here. Max, would it kill you to take a short walk with me? I’ll show you a trick.”

  “A trick?” I said. “Can’t you show it to me here?”

  “No. I can only show it to you in the Quarter of Trysts.”

  “You know, I think it would be better if you just told me about it,” I said. “I don’t want to leave work for too long. It seems like tonight is going to—”

  “I can’t just tell you about it. You won’t catch a thing then. You need to see it.”

  I pondered this for a moment and then agreed. I was curious: what kind of a trick could one show only in the Quarter of Trysts? Besides, morning was ages away.

  “Fine, let’s go. We can drive there—it’ll just take minute. Will half an hour be enough for your trick, Captain Flint?”

  “It’ll be enough. You know, Max, when you call me these strange names, I don’t catch anything. There’s this joke—maybe you know it. A guy comes to a healer and says, ‘Sir, I have lapses in my memory.’ ‘How long have you had them?’ the healer says. And the guy says, ‘How long have I had what?’ Do you catch, Max? The dinner’s over once and for all!”

  I shook my head. I had heard the joke many, many years before. As with many other Echo jokes, this one repeated almost verbatim a joke from my homeland. Was Maba Kalox responsible for transplanting them from one World to another? It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

  “Kurush, I’ll be back in half an hour, and I’ll bring you a pastry. Okay?”

  “That means I should expect you back in an hour,” said the buriwok. “You’re always late.”

  “But not today,” I said. “I promise.”

  “It’s not my concern,” Kurush said sleepily. “It’s yours. You people are full of contradictions.”

  “Right you are.”

  Arguing with Kurush was an exercise in futility. He was right. As always.

  I pulled over on the very edge of the Quarter of Trysts. Anday Pu jumped down on the mosaic sidewalk and pranced over toward the closest Trysting House, to the side reserved for Seekers.

  “Hey!” I said. “Did you just want a free ride? You should have told me right away instead of scheming and luring me here with your talk of ‘tricks.’ I’m a busy man.”

  “Come with me, Max. My trick is right here. You’ll catch everything.”

  Still burning with curiosity, I followed him.

  Anday stopped on the threshold of the Trysting House, fumbled in his pockets, and turned to me, embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry, Max. Could you lend me two crowns? I seem to have lost all of my shiny metal objects again.”

 
“Sure,” I said with a sigh, searching the pockets of my Mantle of Death. I always had some change in them. I knew whom I was dealing with.

  “Will you pay for me, please? I’ll pay you back tomorrow, or some other day.”

  He didn’t sound like he was too sure that he would be able to.

  Great, I thought. Last time it was that crazy Isamonian, now Anday Pu, totally smashed. When I go to the Quarter of Trysts I’m always in such dubious company.

  “Here,” I said, handing him two coins. “And listen. Next time you want to make me a couple of crowns lighter, you don’t have to drag me all the way here.”

  “You no catch, Max!” Anday was almost crying. “Come with me, and you’ll see.”

  “What do you need me for?” But I knew I’d go. Curiosity will be the end of me yet.

  “Just stay here in the lobby,” he said, opening the door to the Trysting House.

  He handed the money to the proprietor and stuck his hand into a large vase of tokens that was standing on the floor. He pulled out a square ceramic token and showed it to me without looking at it.

  “It’s a blank, right?”

  “Yes, it is,” I said. “Hold on a second. Are you saying that you can guess the number? Or that you always pull a blank?”

  “The latter. Now you get it. Good night, sir.”

  He gave an exaggeratedly polite nod to the proprietor, who had been staring at my Mantle of Death the whole time—I hadn’t had time to change. I think the lady Waiters were very relieved to see me disappear into the darkness beyond the door.

  “Would you mind spending another two crowns, Max?” said Anday. “I want you to be sure that I’m not pulling your leg.”

  “I do mind spending another two crowns, but just to be sure,” I said, laughing, and produced the money from my pocket. “Some talent you’ve got, friend.”

  Anday didn’t say anything. He took the money and shuffled along to the next Trysting House. The result was exactly the same, including the expression on the face of the proprietor when he saw the Mantle of Death.

  “Okay, enough. I don’t want to go broke,” I said when we were back on the street. “I would have believed you if you’d just told me, though.”

  “You wouldn’t have believed me, and I wanted you to catch,” said Anday. “It’s not the same.”

  “You’re right, it’s not,” I said. “Hey, have you tried being the Waiter?”

  “Many times. Same results. Forget about those Trysting Houses—it’s not just that! I always pull blanks. It’s the story of my life. You catch?”

  “Let’s go,” I said. “Don’t exaggerate, Captain Flint.”

  “You go, Max. I’m going to go to Chemparkaroke’s. His Soup of Repose can calm down even me. About that ticket to Tasher, though. Would it kill you to buy me one? I’m asking because I know you’re lucky. I’ll bet you’ve never pulled a blank in your life.”

  “No, but I’ve pulled something much worse a few times, believe me. And why Tasher? Anyway, good night, Anday.”

  “And when the night ends, morning comes—the end of another workday.” These words Anday Pu addressed not to me but to the lilac night sky over his head—a head stuffed with various sad and silly things.

  I drove back to Headquarters. I really wanted to get back on time at least once to make Kurush change his mind about me. My efforts were in vain, though. Kurush was sleeping peacefully on the back of the chair. I decided to follow suit. I settled down comfortably and fell asleep. I had a long dream about Blackbeard, who tried to convince me that Mr. Anday Pu was his relative.

  Unlike Kurush, I wasn’t a deep sleeper, so I woke up immediately when I heard the floorboards creak. A young boy in the uniform of the City Police was standing in the doorway.

  “Sir Max,” he said, startled. “They sent me for you. The cemetery—”

  “Again?” I nipped a mournful groan in the bud—moaning and groaning could wait. I had more important business to take care of.

  “Again,” said the boy.

  “Why did you come here?” I said. “You could have just sent me a call. Would have saved time.”

  “They told me to come,” he said. “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “Never mind.” I took a gulp of Elixir of Kaxar, put on my Mantle of Death, and went down to the amobiler. On my way down, I sent a call to Sir Kofa. He answered immediately.

  Again?

  Again. I’m going to the cemetery. Come join me as soon as you can. I think we can leave Melifaro out of this today. These excursions take their toll on his health, and I’m counting on his standing in for me during the day.

  I think I’d better call him. He can just stand there and watch. Just in case.

  Up to you. See you.

  I got into the amobiler and grabbed the lever. The young policeman stood nearby, shuffling his feet.

  “Hop in, I’ll give you a lift,” I said. “Don’t be afraid, I don’t bite.”

  The boy got in the back seat and we took off.

  “So, why did they send you to me?” I said, without much interest.

  “Lieutenant Chekta Jax said that sending you a call would be a breach of duty,” the policeman whispered. “A subordinate must not interrupt the train of thought of his superior with Silent Speech.”

  “The train of thought, you say?” I said. “Well, well.”

  The boy would make a good Captain Foofloss, I thought. He won’t make another General Boboota, though. He’s not absurd enough.

  I looked at the kid and said, “Listen to me very carefully, and pass this on to your colleagues, sir. If it’s about work, you can send me a call at any time of day or night. And never mind subordination, even at the risk of being demoted to janitor— Oh, come on. No one’s going to demote you. It was a joke. I always make bad jokes in the morning.”

  “I’ll remember that,” said the policeman, shocked, not by what he feared was my premonition but because I had called him “sir.”

  “Better tell me what’s going on there,” I said, looking at the sky, which was getting lighter by the minute. “It’s too early for action today.”

  “There’s a horrible new creature there now. I don’t know what it’s called. Lieutenant Chekta Jax told me to go get you immediately, so I didn’t have time to take a good look at it.”

  “All right,” I said, suppressing a yawn. “Let’s have a look at it.”

  I pulled over by the gate of the Green Petta Cemetery and dashed to the scene of the crime.

  “Sir Max, there they are! I ordered the boys to open fire with the Babooms, but they’re useless against them.”

  I had never seen Lieutenant Chekta Jax so bewildered. He pointed at the crowd of undead with a trembling finger. Their disheveled appearance not only disgusted me, it bored me to death. Everything looked exactly the same as it had two days ago.

  “Of course the Babooms are useless against them,” I said, yawning. “And, by the way, next time just send me a call. No need to stand on courtesy, Chekta. What if they’d started to scatter?”

  “They . . .” Chekta trailed off.

  “They what? Are they scattering already?”

  “Well, no, but sometimes they get up and start ambling around among their graves.”

  Chekta sounded very uncertain, but I was too busy to pay attention to such minor details.

  “Right. Now, tell everyone to get out of the way,” I said. “The quicker the better.”

  Praise be the Magicians, I didn’t have to say it twice. A moment later two dozen policemen were already in retreat, shuffling their feet some distance behind me. If anything, they were too quick. Then again, if I were them, I’d also want to be a safe distance from the battlefield. When some Max the Terrible is about to exterminate a bunch of no-less-terrible creatures, a prudent man hides in the cellar.

  My Lethal Spheres didn’t let me down. The zombies fell on the ancient gravestones left and right. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of red metal glinting in the rays of
the rising sun. I turned my head in that direction and recognized—no, not the creature itself, for I couldn’t tell one from another. I recognized the large earring that one of them wore.

  The same ones, I said to myself. I knew it. It’s been the same ones all along.

  “I’m so sorry, lad. I’m running late today,” Sir Kofa Yox said behind me. “Sinning Magicians! You’re almost done. How did you manage?”

  “Not sure,” I said in a raspy voice, and slumped down on the grass. It was too much for me. Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli had once told me that firing three dozen Lethal Spheres at one go was just about the limit of human capability. I had just fired at least four dozen.

  “What was the hurry?” said Kofa.

  He clapped his hands a few times quietly, took a stroll to the pile of immobile bodies, and returned, happy with what he had seen.

  “Was that all?” I said.

  “Yes. When is all of this going to end, is what I’d like to know.”

  “It may never end,” I said. “Today I realized for certain that these are the same guys as the first time. And probably the same as yesterday.”

  “That’s news! What makes you so sure? Do you remember them that well?”

  “I remembered one of them from the first time. He was here today, too.”

  I realized that I didn’t want to sit on the wet grass any longer. It would be much better to lie down on it. And if I could close my eyes, too . . .

  “Uh-oh, I see you’re completely wiped out, son,” said Kofa. “Ah, here’s Sir Melifaro. Just in time.”

  “It took me just half an hour,” said Melifaro. His voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away. “I don’t exactly live in the neighborhood. Max, do you like sleeping outside? Is this a custom in the Barren Lands? Do you lie down on the ground, cover yourself with a young concubine, and put an old nag under your head instead of a pillow?”

  “Not funny,” said Kofa. “You should take him home. I’m sure his bed is a lot drier than the grass.”