by Max Frei
I bade farewell to the friendly customs officer, and we went to the port to look over the Old Maid and meet her captain.
The contours of the elegant sailing vessel were a vision to behold, The captain was equally impressive. A handsome, stately man with a long braid and a beard that fell below his belt met us at the mooring. A severe black suit put the finishing touches on his appearance: baggy trousers and a loose-fitting tunic down to his knees. The belt, if he was indeed wearing one, was concealed beneath this garment.
“Captain Giatta, at your service, gentlemen,” he intoned drily.
The captain spoke with an amusing drawl. Praise be the Magicians he’s not from Irrashi. We’d have a hard time finding an interpreter, I thought to myself.
“The Secret Investigative Force of Echo. Allow us to board your ship, Mr. Giatta,” Sir Kofa Yox replied no less drily.
“This vessel is the personal property of Mr. Agon, and I’m not authorized to take strangers on board.”
“Anywhere in Unified Kingdom the Secret Investigative Force is fully authorized to turn inside out not only your ‘personal property,’ but also your personal backside, if we think we might find something interesting there.” In Sir Kofa’s voice I detected notes I hadn’t heard before—mellifluous and ominous at the same time.
“There’s only one thing I can tell you, gentlemen. I was ordered not to let anyone onto the ship. I have only one option: to die carrying out my duty. I’m very sorry.”
Captain Giatta did not in the least resemble a dull-witted fanatic. He also had no likeness to a dyed-in-the-wool criminal, though who knows what a dyed-in-the-wool criminal is supposed to look like. The captain had sad, tired eyes, and he pronounced the word “die” almost dreamily.
Sir Kofa sent me a call, Be on your guard, Max. I wouldn’t want to kill him, but . . . you can see for yourself that this fellow is a bit shady.
Then Kofa turned to the captain again.
“Well, I understand that an order’s an order. In that case you’ll just have to take a ride with us in the amobiler. I hope your boss has no objections to that?”
“No,” Captain Giatta said uncertainly, but with evident relief. “There was no mention of that. So I won’t refuse.”
“Excellent. Command your subordinates to guard the ship, and you’ll have a clear conscience.”
The captain went to give the orders, and I looked at Sir Kofa in some confusion.
“Is this normal behavior for Tasherians, Kofa?”
“Of course not. The chap is bewitched, it’s as clear as day. But there’s an aura of White Magic of only the fourth degree emanating from him, and that’s perfectly legal. Juffin will figure him out, you’ll see. That will be interesting for you, too.”
“And the ship?”
“Never mind the ship. I’ve already sent a call to the House by the Bridge. Lonli-Lokli and a dozen policemen will be here in half an hour. They’re the best team for a first-rate search. Here comes our brave captain now. We’re lucky, all the same, that he decided to come with us,” Kofa whispered as our new companion returned.
“I’m at your service, gentlemen,” Captain Giatta said with dignified bow.
The captain stared out the window in rapture the whole way. He seemed completely unfazed that he was under arrest and was being transported to the House by the Bridge; rather, he was thoroughly enjoying the sightseeing excursion. I shared his enthusiasm: Echo really is a dazzlingly city. I should have grown used to it, but I was still awestruck by its beauty.
Meanwhile, big changes were underway at the House by the Bridge. The Hall of Common Labor was deserted. The cooks had been abandoned to the whims of fate for the time being. Neither Melamori nor Melifaro were anywhere to be seen. They were probably running around chasing after the tantalizing loose ends of secrets, which are abundant in every respectably good-sized mystery. Sir Juffin Hully greeted us practically licking his chops and staring at Captain Giatta like a hungry cat eyeing a bowl of cream.
At first the interrogation seemed improbably dull to me. In his questioning, Juffin zeroed in on some details concerning the technicalities of the ship’s rigging, the commercial practices of the captain’s boss, and the biographies of all the crew members. Mr. Giatta calmly answered some of the questions, and resolutely refused to answer others—questions that seemed completely innocuous to me. Sir Juffin greeted this obstinacy with perfect serenity.
“So you say that your assistant, what’s his name—ah, yes, Mr. Xakka. He used to be employed on vessels of the Unified Kingdom? That’s very interesting, Captain,” Juffin said. “Very interesting, indeed.”
Suddenly the handsome captain rolled his eyes and collapsed on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Juffin wiped the sweat off his brow wearily.
“He’s a tough one. Real tough. And scared to death. I was hardly able to pacify him,” said Juffin. He sighed and continued as though he were delivering a lecture. “You must be very careful with a bewitched man, Max. I could put a strong spell on the captain, but we don’t yet know what exactly they’ve done to him. You know, the combination of spells sometimes leads to unpredictable results. When I was a young and foolish deputy sheriff in the city of Kettari, I came across a bewitched lady once in the line of duty. She was behaving like she was possessed, and I had to practice some sorcery just to save my own skin. This happened far from Echo. The magic in the provinces is far more primitive than we’re used to here. No one expected any surprises. But then my suspect screeched and exploded into pieces. I was absolutely stunned, and my boss, the old sheriff of Kettari, had to devote many days and nights to returning me to my senses.”
Juffin smiled dreamily, as though it were the most pleasant memory of his entire youth.
“So what have you done to him? Was it hypnosis?”
“I have no idea what you mean by ‘hypnosis.’ I just pacified him. Very effectively. Our captain has never been so tranquil, Magicians’ honor! Now we can take that ghastly tunic off him.”
As was to be expected, Captain Giatta’s black garment concealed a valuable belt, an exact replica of the one we had seen yesterday.
“This is a serious matter, of course,” Juffin smiled. “Kofa, Max, look closely at his unkempt clothes. Can you draw any conclusions, Max?”
“Well, it’s not easy to keep up your appearance on a long journey,” I surmised.
“Nonsense. The captain’s trousers and tunic are perfectly neat and tidy. No other ideas?”
“He just hasn’t taken his shirt off in a long time,” Sir Kofa said, taking pity on me. “That’s because—”
“Because he’s wearing the belt over the shirt!” It suddenly dawned on me. “It’s impossible to remove the belt, right? So that other guy in the morgue, he wasn’t a ragamuffin. He just couldn’t remove his belt and was forced to wear his old skaba for days and days.”
“Now you’re talking!” Juffin exclaimed. “By the way, about that fellow in the morgue—he hadn’t taken off his skaba for much longer than just several days. Perhaps a few years. That was plain to see. But the Old Maid sailed into Echo only eight days ago. You’ve got to get to the bottom of this, Kofa. Get in touch with Nulli Karif and ask him to dig around in the archives. You can occupy Melifaro’s office for the time being. I sent him to find out who the victim was. I have a feeling that it won’t be easy. Max and I will work on the poor captain. You can’t assist us there, anyway.”
“Juffin, what do I need with your mysteries? I have enough of my own to solve,” Sir Kofa said with a sly grin, and shut the door behind him.
“You sent him away, because—” I ventured cautiously.
“Yes, yes. Don’t ask foolish questions. Practicing True Magic in the presence of strangers—well, Sir Maba Kalox might be able to permit himself such luxuries, but I can’t. Nor can you. And without True Magic we’ll end up killing our brave captain. That would be unjust, for one thing. And for another, he can tell us a thing or two. For the time being, just watch me, Max; we never kno
w how something will pan out when you’re involved. If you sense that you can help me in some way—be my guest. If not, don’t try to show off.”
Juffin sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and began tapping lightly and rhythmically with his fingertips—not on the mother-of-pearl belt, but in the air. His fingers stopped just fractions of an inch away from the belt. His movements were mesmerizing, and I seemed to doze off in spite of the obvious importance of what was transpiring.
I slept and I dreamed that I was Captain Giatta. I felt rotten, since I knew what was going to happen. This queer old fellow, the Honorable Head of something or other, wanted to help me. But I knew only too well that all he had to do was touch the Belt (in my own mind it had now become a belt with a capital B)—all he had to do was to touch it with the aim of taking it away, and I would die. And my death would be worse than death. It would be an infinitely long and tormenting demise.
“Juffin!” I cried, hardly able to get my tongue around the word, so drowsy was I. “Don’t do it! We’ll end up killing him, no matter how you go about it. It’s something I know.”
“You’re not the one who knows it, Max.” Juffin countered calmly. “It’s Captain Giatta who knows. But he only knows what they told him. Consequently, it might not be true. Take it easy. Don’t allow your empathy to distract you. That can be dangerous.”
And Juffin’s hands finally touched the belt.
A dark wave of pain enveloped my head. It wasn’t simply pain, it was death. What imbecile said that death is a soothing balm? Death is nauseating helplessness and infinite physical pain, gnawing the body into tiny pieces with the voracious teeth of oblivion. In any case, that’s what the death of Captain Giatta was like.
But I’m not Captain Giatta, thought someone next to me. No, not “someone,” of course. That was me doing the thinking, me, Max, a living being, not one of the rough, sinewy scraps of the body of the unfortunate Tasherian captain. Realizing this bare fact held out the promise of salvation.
The alien sensations subsided, and my own returned to me slowly and solemnly, like lazy dancers to Ravel’s Bolero. To see, to breathe, to feel the hard seat of the chair with my own backside—it was wonderful! My clothes were wet through, but even that seemed like something miraculous. I thought of the ridiculous local saying “The dead don’t sweat,” and smiled.
Juffin got up from his crouching position and looked at me in amazement. The cursed mother-of-pearl belt flopped onto the carpet.
“Everything all right, Max?”
“I’m checking. And the captain? Is he dead?”
“No. You saved him, boy.”
“Saved him? Me? Sinning Magicians, how could I have done that?”
“You took on half of his pain for your own. A strong person is quite capable of surviving half of it. I’ve never seen anything so strange—the belt itself was pretending, Max. It was putting on an act, like a regular cunning human being. And when I had ascertained that it was already harmless—well, you now know it all.”
I nodded, exhausted. My head was spinning, and it wasn’t so much that the world seemed to be receding from me as that it was trembling like jello. Juffin’s voice seemed to reach me from someplace very far away.
“Come on. Take a gulp of your favorite potion.”
Juffin poured some Elixir of Kaxar into my mouth. That meant I would be in tiptop shape in no time. Soon the world did stopped quivering, although I still didn’t experience my usual buoyancy.
“You both underwent the same thing, but it will no doubt be some time before the captain begins to function normally again,” Juffin observed. “Never mind, we’ll turn him over to Sir Abilat now. You’ll see, by morning he will have recovered. I think everything will be much easier when our brave captain begins to talk. By the way, Max, now you can imagine what the effects are when some daredevil begins casting spells while wearing the Earring of Oxalla. Do you remember asking why they were afraid? Well, there’s no better answer to your own question than personal experience. Well done, Max!”
“I didn’t do anything. I’m a victim of circumstance,” I sighed. “I had no choice about whether I wanted to save the poor bloke or not. Now if I had really done all of that of my own free will—”
“That’s just fruitless sophistry,” Juffin declared dismissively, with a wave of his hand. “If you did it, you did it. That’s what matters. You don’t really have to know exactly what you’re doing or why. You did it because you could. And that’s why I say you’ve done well. Am I making myself clear?”
“Clear enough. Give me some more Elixir, or you’ll be seeing the corpse of the great hero by dinnertime. You can add it to your stew of dried Magicians.”
“Take it, but don’t get carried away,” Juffin handed me the bottle. “Listen, you probably haven’t heard the news yet. Now you can buy this potion in any store, since magic of the eighth degree is all you need to brew it. It didn’t occur to me to tell you before.”
“Now I’ll never die,” I said with a blissful smile. “No one’s going to wipe me off the face of the earth. Finally, my life has a meaning! I’ll drink a bottle of Elixir a day, and reach enlightenment.”
“That sounds like our good old Max,” Juffin announced happily. “Just a moment ago there was some pale, washed-out shadow in our midst . . . Still, I think you ought to rest. Go home, try to sleep, or at least just lounge around for a while. We’ll manage until morning.”
“Go away at the most interesting moment? Do you take me for a fool?”
“There won’t be any more surprises tonight, Max. Kofa and I will sniff out what we can, and we’ll wait till Captain Giatta wakes up. I’ve already dismissed Melamori for the day, and Lonli-Lokli is heading for home right after the investigation at the port. I’ll let Melifaro go, too, as soon as he tells me the name of our deceased friend. You, Max, would be getting at least a dozen Days of Freedom from Care if it weren’t for this blasted case. So, homeward, march! That’s an order. Can you stand up?”
“After three slugs of Elixir? I could do a jig!” I said.
I stood up—then collapsed in a heap on the floor. My legs knew what they were supposed to do, but they refused to obey.
“I suspected as much,” Juffin sighed. “Well, let me give you a hand.”
“Strange, I felt fine until I tried to stand up,” I said, leaning on his shoulder. “Now I feel more like a bag of potatoes than a human being.”
“Never mind, it will pass,” the boss said, trying to console me. “By morning you’ll be as right as rain. Be here by noon, all right?”
“Of course! I can be here even earlier.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m no good as a nurse. I hate looking after invalids.”
Juffin stuffed me in the back seat of the official amobiler, relieved to get me off his hands. And home I went.
I was able to get out of the amobiler on my own devices and made it to my living room without too much effort. Things weren’t going badly, all things considered. After a while, I sent a call to the Sated Skeleton. I had just managed to hobble to the bathroom when the delivery boy arrived, so I had to turn around and go back. My rate of progress was nothing to brag about.
I stripped off my clothes, still damp with sweat, splashed around in the water, and then had something to eat. An hour later I felt much better. My exhaustion gradually turned into a pleasant fatigue, so I crawled into bed. I fell asleep before midnight. Some night owl I was!
My sweet dream visited me afresh. Melamori appeared at the window, paused, then started to approach. I tried to move, but as always in these marvelous dreams, I could only just raise myself off my pillow. Melamori came still closer, and sat down beside me. I lifted my hand and tried to embrace my vision. The vision didn’t protest.
I still don’t know whether it was the unpleasant recent events that were to blame, or whether the hefty portion of Elixir of Kaxar had given me unprecedented strength. This time, though, my heavy, unwieldy body, and she who was the cause of my grie
f, both obeyed me. When the vision of Melamori was finally under my blanket, I mentally congratulated myself on my victory.
Then something happened that couldn’t be explained by any stretch of the imagination. I got scratched. I actually got scratched; and the culprit was the sharp edge of a medallion adorning the lovely chest of my wondrous vision. For a moment, I stared bewildered at the tiny droplet of blood on my palm. Then I woke up. At that very instant, I received a monstrous jab in the belly.
“That was . . . that was worse than swinish, Max!” Melamori shrieked—a flesh and blood Melamori, who was drawing her elegant little foot up for the next attack.
The lady was aiming for the place that should never be targeted under any circumstances. Without even thinking, I grabbed hold of her bare foot, and yanked with all my might. Melamori collapsed onto the floor, curled up into a ball, and rolled into the far corner of the bedroom.
“You did cast a spell after all!” she hissed. “I asked you not to, but you had to bare your fangs and do it anyway! You’re worse than the ancient Magicians! At least they didn’t lie when they performed their malicious tricks!”
“I didn’t lie to you!” I said with the equanimity of absolute shock. “Don’t you see I’m just as surprised as you are? I didn’t really do anything unusual. I just dreamed about you, and I felt glad that I did. I don’t see that there’s any reason for a brawl. You should be glad that miracles—”
“I don’t need any of your filthy miracles!” Melamori snapped.
I was astonished at how much venom could fit into such a small lady.
“No sniveling vampire would dare force me to do such a thing! It’s disgusting! To go to sleep in your own home and wake up in someone else’s bed. In the bed of some creature who doesn’t even deserve to be called human. It’s outrageous! You make me sick, Max! Do you know what I’m going to do now? I’m going to the Quarter of Trysts. At least there I’ll be able to meet a real live man and forget about this nightmare. I’d kill you if I could! You’re lucky that I can only kill humans!”
