by Max Frei
“Good golly, boy, that’s the best kind of advertisement! But innocent children—that’s a new one. I’ll have to start up a rumor about it.”
I didn’t expect to get anything more concrete out of him. There was one idea that dawned on me that night just before I left, though.
“I’ve decided to take Lonli-Lokli with me,” I announced, shocked at my own genius. “That’s possible, I hope?”
“Actually, the cell is just meant for one. Will you sleep locked in his embrace? Then again, with your notions of comfort—”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m planning on shrinking him and hiding him in my fist. Sir Shurf taught me that himself a few days ago. He says I’m quite good at it. True, I haven’t had the opportunity to use it on living people, yet,” I added uncertainly. Suddenly my confidence dried up like a puddle in the desert.
“Objects or people, it works just the same,” Juffin said. “It’s a fine idea, Max. I told you that no one could handle this case better than you.”
“That remains to be seen. Will Lonli-Lokli agree, do you think?”
“In the first place, Shurf will be flattered by your confidence in him. He takes you far more seriously than you might imagine. And, second, his opinion is beside the point. An order is an order. You’d better get used to it, by the way. You are second in command, and giving orders isn’t a choice, but a duty.”
“Sinning Magicians! If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s giving orders,” I said with a grimace.
“Is that so? And who frightened the junior clerks out of their wits with his menacing growls in our half of the House by the Bridge? And who nearly drove Boboota into a conniption fit? Don’t sell yourself short, Sir Max. You’ll make an excellent tyrant—one of those who kills with pleasure during palace coups.”
“The first few times I had the opportunity to give orders, I must admit I enjoyed it,” I said sheepishly. “Then I realized that it just wasn’t for me. Even when I send the errand boy for kamra I feel that I cease to be that sweet, kind Max I’ve known all these years. So I feel like it’s someone else who gives orders. And I can’t say I like that someone else.”
“How fastidious we are,” Juffin said with a sniff. “Fine. Don’t worry. I’ll send for Shurf myself and explain everything to him. Any other requests?”
“None for now. I just know that I’ll feel much safer in the company of Lonli-Lokli. Juffin, have I ever told you that I’m a rather cowardly fellow? Keep it in mind.”
“If you can believe it, I’ll feel safer myself,” Juffin admitted. “Have I ever told you that I’m a sly old fox, but careful beyond measure? Learn the art of description, Max. I said almost the same thing you did—but how much more flattering to my pride!”
I left the hospitable home of my boss in a tumultuous state of mind. I told myself that if Juffin were foolish enough to entrust the operation to me, I wasn’t going to answer for the consequences. But a newly awakened A-student syndrome prompted me to do everything to the max (as it were), or to die of shame. Where was it, this A-student syndrome, when I had been going to school, I’d like to know?
However much I grumbled, I knew all too well that when it was over I’d be happy to see the smile on Sir Juffin Hully’s face, and to hear the proud exclamation to his protégé (an exclamation, which could buoy up someone who had just fallen off a mountain). “You see Max? I told you everything would work out! And you didn’t believe me.” I just had to reconcile myself to the thought that I would undertake any exploit to earn the indulgent smile of my mentor. That’s how far things had come!
It was a cold night, one of the coldest that winter. In my homeland, the thermometer would probably have read around 32°F. The climate in Echo is more than moderate. There are neither hard frosts, nor heat waves—which, to be sure, is fine with me. The romance of a snowy winter never did capture my imagination. I can’t stand going to work in the dusky morning twilight, shuffling along a dirty white sidewalk, feet completely benumbed in soaking boots, and contemplating how much a pair of new ones would cost. And in the heat of summer, I’m ready to sell my soul for a breath of fresh, cool air. So the mild climate of Echo suited me down to my toes. Well, at least something makes me happy, praise be the Magicians.
I was driving home, trying to think not about tomorrow, but about something else—namely, whether I would get the chance to see Lady Melamori in the morning. By that time, my interest in Lady Melamori had begun to assume dangerous proportions. The worst thing was that for the life of me I couldn’t figure her out. Since the evening we had met the first time, she had looked at me with undisguised adoration—sometimes even with slight fear. But excessive admiration, as far as I’ve been able to judge, rarely gives rise to true intimacy. So I didn’t know myself whether I should still have hope, or simply get a grip on myself before it was too late. Whether it was already too late—of this I wasn’t sure.
Then several days ago she had thoroughly disarmed me by saying, “Come to my place this evening, Sir Max. You don’t know where I live yet? It’s very easy to find. I live next to the Quarter of Trysts. Amusing, isn’t it?”
My head started spinning. I took a deep breath, scrubbed myself in the baths for about two hours, and donned the best looxi from my modest collection. I almost started powdering my nose, since here in Echo men are not ashamed to use makeup—at least on special occasions. But my conservative upbringing restrained me from taking that last fateful step.
I ordered Kurush to guard the office—that bird really beats all! When I got to Melamori’s house, though, I found the Minor Secret Investigative Force assembled nearly in its entirety. At first I couldn’t get over my disappointment:
“My lady, you could have warned me that this would be business as usual. Do we not see enough of each other during working hours?”
When I’m upset I always grow tactless. Luckily, I didn’t offend anyone.
“On the upside, I don’t have Boboota here, Sir Max,” the hostess boasted proudly. “What’s more, he’s not in any of the neighboring houses, either! Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Ah, but that’s a shame, my lady! Who am I to converse with? I was planning on talking with a competent expert about everything that floats in the swamps and outhouses. Let me just drop in on Lady Melamori, I thought. I’m sure General Boboota is already there.”
I tried to make light of the situation. My colleagues were clearly amused by this. At last I cheered up, too—but there was no glimmer of a romance that would eventually burst into flame that night. The iconoclastic Lady Melamori flirted with Sir Melifaro and Sir Kofa, but to me she only threw tender glances from a distance of a dozen steps, no fewer.
I realized I was becoming despondent, and I tried to distract my thoughts from her. But how could I distract myself right there in her presence! The vagueness of our relationship tore me apart. If she had just told me where to go, everything would at least have become clear. No means no. The interested parties hang themselves in the outhouse; life goes on. But every time we met, she stuck to me like a leech, like a five-year old girl to a three-foot tall Mickey Mouse. She stood up on her tiptoes, batted her eyelashes in rapture, and all but called over all her girlfriends to take a look. My heart, obviously, melted from her attentions. And I sank in deeper and deeper . . .
Fie on you, devil! I awoke from these sad meditations when I noticed all at once that I had been sitting for a long time in my own dining room, chewing my food mechanically. My stomach groaned, letting me know that I had already gone overboard. Sinning Magicians, how much had I stuffed in? And why!
The bells were ringing in the city. Morning was breaking. Time for certain gentlemen Secret Investigators to extricate themselves from their armchairs and head for Xolomi prison to while away the hours in a cell where prisoners had a habit of dying.
I still didn’t want to go to Xolomi—but not because prisoners kept dying in that cell. After all, that was their problem. I was embarrassed to admit it, but it was the very
prospect of being locked up in jail that worried me. Until then, it had never entered my head that I might end up in prison. Especially here, in Echo! It was in the interests of my profession, of course—but, still. Frankly, my knees started shaking when I thought about myself in prisoner’s garb, standing before the bars of a window.
By the way, are there any barred windows in Xolomi at all? Actually, why would you need bars, when the jailers have magic of every description and degree at their disposal?
Juffin had been very vague about the term that Lonli-Lokli and I were supposed to be serving. Come back once you’ve completed the mission—or something to that effect. What did that mean? If we don’t complete the blasted thing we’ll stay there forever? What a future!
It’s one thing for me to be there, but why should poor Lonli-Lokli have to suffer? On the other hand, if they refuse to let us out, we’ll tear the whole island of Xolomi to pieces! The very second that Sir Shurf starts missing his neglected wife, we’ll start right in.
I had met Lonli-Lokli’s wife at the party at Melamori’s. Marvelous woman! Brilliant, beautiful, and very amusing. Her good nature probably determined her choice of her significant other. There is nothing more amusing than seeing the two of them together. She is diminutive and plump, and hardly reaches the belt of the spindly Sir Shurf. Moreover, with his lady at his side, Lonli-Lokli, always the butt of many jokes, is incapable of taking offense. She learned to pronounce his name only after many years of conjugal life.
They appeared to me to be very much still in love with each other. When Sir Shurf looked at his wife, his impenetrable gaze became very human. Well, it was a good thing that Lonli-Lokli had a happy family life. The personal welfare of a professional killer promotes social tranquility and equilibrium. After reaching that conclusion, I cheered up a bit.
I could have stayed in that armchair forever. Everyone wants to postpone unpleasant fuss and bother until tomorrow. But it was already tomorrow. It was time to archive the cozy, festive “yesterday” and forget about it. The short, warm “today” was still in the soft armchair, right under my backside. It couldn’t last forever.
I stood up and started getting ready. Armstrong and Ella, my erstwhile kittens who by this time were no spring chickens, let me know, in no uncertain terms, that it was time for their breakfast. I was generous, even profligate, before my departure.
“From now on it will be our errand boy Urf who feeds you,” I told the beasts, filling up their bowls to the brim. “They say he’s a good person and grew up on a farm, where he also fed fat furry creatures like you. And I’ll be back soon. I’m just going to jail for a while, and then I’ll return.” I laughed, aware of the flatness of my own joke.
Armstrong and Ella looked at me with their thoughtful blue eyes, as impenetrable and deep as Sir Juffin Hully’s.
The morning was just as cold as the night had been. I walked to the House by the Bridge, appreciating every step along the way. The thought that I could expire prematurely like my predecessors at Xolomi honed all my senses and perceptions. Although . . . maybe it was just a chain of improbable coincidences? Could be!
But you can’t fool the heart. My heart, at least. And slowly, but surely, it seemed to fill up with lead. What would happen when I showed up at Xolomi? I was getting more and more unnerved by the minute. Even the thought that the terrifying Lonli-Lokli would be hiding in my fist, that I was keeping him in reserve so that I could thumb my nose at danger, gave me only the slightest comfort. I still had to manage to let him out at the right moment, if need be.
Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli was waiting for me in the Hall of Common Labor—unruffled, dependable, as always. He was noting down something in his “work diary” so as not to waste time. Looking at him, I livened up a bit.
“Are you ready to become my victim, Sir Shurf?”
“Victim? Sir Max, you clearly overestimate the significance of the impending event,” he objected phlegmatically. “Believe me, I have no cause for alarm—and you even less.”
“Well, thanks for the reassurance.”
And I made a motion with my left hand, undetectable to the prying eyes of others. Lonli-Lokli disappeared. In theory, I knew that he hadn’t disappeared, but was to be found between the thumb and the index finger of my hand. But this useful knowledge somehow didn’t fit into my head.
“Dandy, Mr. Nightmare!” Melifaro beamed, emerging from his office. “Tell me, might you not be persuaded to keep him there for the next two hundred years or so?”
“Lady Lonli-Lokli would object, and I wouldn’t want to grieve her,” I replied, smiling. “And why are you here so early?”
“Juffin woke me up. Sent me a message that he wouldn’t be here before midday. He ordered me to see you off. He wants me dead! Usually he’s here at the crack of dawn, but today . . . Well, there you are.”
“He’s hiding from me,” I informed him proudly.
“From you? You’re making progress! To my knowledge (and I do know something about the history of the Unified Kingdom), Juffin Hully hasn’t hidden from anyone for the past one hundred years. Well, in the Epoch of Orders there was a case—and it wasn’t the only one. Then again, everyone ran from each other during the Epoch of Orders. How did you scare him?” asked Melifaro and sat down in front of me.
“Give me some kamra and I’ll tell you,” I said, crossing my feet and placing them carefully on the table. It’s frightening to think of the number of dumb movies that inspired me to assume this pose. “You’re here to see me off, so you must see to it that I leave here happy. Thus, you must bribe me with every possible means at your disposal.”
“Well, that’s the limit! Bribing a jailbird!” Melifaro grumbled. “Fine. Take advantage of my generosity.” He sauntered into the office and brought out a jug of kamra and two mugs of completely improbable dimensions.
“So why is our ‘Sir Venerable Head’ running away from you?”
“I ask too many questions. Actually, that’s why he decided to stick me in Xolomi.”
“Oh, is that all? Questions! And here I was thinking that yesterday you tried to get him drunk on Elixir of Horse Dung, the national drink of your Barren Lands.”
“That actually did happen,” I admitted. “But Juffin said that his Diurnal Backside usually does the dirty work. Thanks for reminding me—I’ll have to treat you to some!”
“No thanks!” Melifaro screwed up his face in anxious trepidation, and he shot into his office like a bullet. Several times he peeped out timidly; then the joke grew stale, and he returned.
I killed another half-hour in this pleasant manner. Lady Melamori, for whose sake I was dragging it out, didn’t appear. Finally, I got behind the wheel of the amobiler and set off for Xolomi to turn myself in.
“I see you as though in a waking dream!” The senior commander of Xolomi covered his eyes respectfully, in the ritual of a first meeting. “I’m happy to speak my name: Sir Marunarx Antarop.”
I introduced myself, and they led me off to be served breakfast.
“You’re so skinny, Sir Max! They really work you hard in the Secret Investigative Force. I know all about it! You need to eat more!” Sir Marunarx exclaimed, refilling my plate over and over again. “Never mind. You’ll fill out here with us, I promise you that!”
The sumptuous breakfast was suspiciously reminiscent of a formal banquet. The commander fussed over me like a doting uncle. I thought I was going to prison, but it looked like I had ended up in a resort. And so, it turned out, I had.
“Whew, I’ve already filled out! By about ten pounds,” I said an hour later. “Thank you, Sir Marunarx. I should go to the cell now, I suppose. That’s why I came, after all.”
“I’m so sorry, Sir Max! I’m afraid it will be uncomfortable for you there! But Sir Hully requested that I put you not in the guest quarter, but in a prison cell. What do you think—could it have been a joke?”
“You never know with him,” I laughed. “No, Sir Marunarx, I’m really supposed to go to the cell.
No one has died in your guest quarters, I hope?”
“I understand,” the old man said with a sigh. “Well, let’s go then. By the way, Sir Max, you know that when you’re in the cell you can’t use Silent Speech? I can’t change that for you, I’m afraid. The prison is built that way. You know yourself, Xolomi is a magical place. It’s not for us, the employees, to decide what is permitted here and what isn’t.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been told.”
“So if you need to get in touch with Sir Hully or anyone else, tell the guards that you wish to take a walk, and they’ll bring you to me, at any time of day or night. Here you can do anything your heart desires. My people have already been informed about you, of course.”
“Excellent!” I nodded. “And now, arrest me, please!”
Cell No. 5-Ow-Nox seemed to be quite a cozy little place. And, by the way, in my homeland you’d have to plunk down several suitcases of greenbacks for a pad like this! But for a native of Echo, it would probably be difficult to reconcile oneself to such cramped quarters—only three “small” (by local standards, miniscule; by ours, enormous) rooms, all on one floor. And also a bathroom with a toilet one floor below, as is the custom here. In the bathroom there were only three tubs, the same number I had at home. Now I began to understand why my landlord had been unable to find a tenant for so long. When I got home, I’d have him put in a fourth tub. I can’t live like I’m in prison!
But praise be the Magicians I had still not completely adapted to local customs, so the modest prison cell seemed to me to be the height of luxury. A half-hour later I realized I had already gotten used to being there.
