by Max Frei
“I don’t know where Xropper is!” Mr. Agon stammered in panic. “He didn’t tell me anything!”
“Commendable precautions,” Juffin agreed affably. “It would be strange if he reported to you. But you still have one more chance. Imagine that I would be satisfied if you told me where he was yesterday. I ask for no more than that.”
“Yesterday . . . Yesterday, we met at the Golden Rams after dinner, but I don’t know—”
“It’s good that it was after dinner and not for it,” Juffin said, screwing up his face with disdain. “A vulgarly expensive dive with terrible food. Just the ticket for a rogue like Xropper! Fine, Sir Max. Pack up our guest. We’ll take him with us. He might come in handy.”
I stared at the chief in perplexity until it dawned on me what he wanted.
“Sure!”
With one deft movement, the merchant occupied his usual place between the thumb and the forefinger of my left hand. It began to seem that Mr. Agon and I would be together forever.
Melifaro peeked into the office.
“Everyone’s assembled, Juffin. You shouldn’t work so hard, Mr. Bad Dream. You don’t look yourself at all!”
“I’m longing for fresh horse manure,” I informed him gloomily. “They call it nostalgia.”
“Ah, well, why didn’t you say so? I thought you had just grown tired of killing people. It’s no surprise—Lonli-Lokli himself gets tired of it sometimes.”
“Any job grows wearisome,” I said didactically.
I left the Hall of Common Labor like I was jumping headfirst off a skyscraper: fast, determined, and with no regard for the consequences.
“Let’s go, boys,” Juffin’s voice rang out cheerily behind me. “Destination: the Golden Rams. Lady Melamori, remember: yours is the first move.”
“With pleasure,” Melamori nodded. She tried not to look at me, which was probably wise. “Attagirl! Way to go!” Sir Nulli Karif would no doubt have said.
“It’s a formidable adversary: Magician Xropper Moa. Heard of him?”
“Ah, from the Order of the Barking Fish? Formidable my foot!” Melamori twitched her shoulders haughtily.
“Certain Orders of Magic that had no pretensions to supremacy had very dangerous secrets,” said Sir Lonli-Lokli, shaking his head in disapproval. “You should keep this in mind, Lady Melamori, in the interests of your own safety. And the interests of the case, naturally.”
“Do you understand? Don’t put on airs,” Juffin said. “Let’s be off. Sir Max, get behind the levers. Your folly will serve us well now. Every minute counts. This is your one chance to bury the Minor Secret Investigative Force nearly in its entirety. What Kofa and Lookfi will do without us I find hard to imagine.”
“What do you mean? Sir Kofa will keep on eating, and Lookfi never notices anything anyway,” Melifaro snorted. “And no one will shed a tear over our mangled bodies.”
“I think a catastrophe like that would be a serious loss for the Unified Kingdom,” Lonli-Lokli said in an imposing voice.
Melifaro snickered with quiet mirth, but refrained from his usual guffaw.
“No time to bemoan your fate; here we arrive at our destination,” I said with a grin. “Some heroes you are! Jump out. Forward, march, Lady Melamori! Show all those Magicians from the Grunting Kitty-Cat what a pound of Boboota’s crap is worth in a bad harvest year!”
My outburst surprised even me. Juffin and Melifaro exchanged glances and exploded in laughter. Even the glum Melamori smiled. Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli looked at us like we were all unruly but beloved children, and got out of the amobiler.
Then the Master of Pursuit took off her elegant boots, entered the tavern, and circled through the large hall.
“He’s been here! Magicians are always easier to track down, Sir Juffin,” she shouted. “Here is his trail. He’s somewhere nearby, I swear by your nose!”
“Swear by your own, girl. I need mine.”
Sir Juffin Hully looked like a fisherman who had caught a twenty-pound trout.
Melamori left the tavern, then set off by herself, hot on the trail. We piled back into the amobiler to await her summons. After half an hour, I felt Juffin’s hand on my shoulder. He said:
“The Street of Forgotten Poets, Max. You know where it is?”
“It’s the first I’ve heard of it. Is there a street with such name?”
“No time to wonder—just press on the levers and let’s get going. Drive toward Jafax, it’s in that direction. It’s a small alleyway. I’ll show you where to turn.”
The Street of Forgotten Poets lived up to its name. It was so deserted that tufts of pale white grass grew between the intricate designs of the paving stones.
There was only one house on this street—but what a house! It was a veritable castle, surrounded by a high wall that still bore the indistinct traces of ancient inscriptions. Beside the gate, tapping her bare little foot impatiently, stood Melamori. She displayed a reckless, nervous joy that I found somewhat unsettling.
“He’s here,” the Master of Pursuit said through clenched teeth. “When he sensed me near, the little stinker first grew sad, and then started losing the remaining scraps of his pathetic mind. It’s too bad you made me wait for you, Juffin! I could have already been through with him. Well, I’m off. Follow me!”
“Not so fast!” Juffin barked. “Lonli-Lokli will go in first. That’s his job. It would be far better for you just to stay behind in the amobiler. Where is your praiseworthy caution, lady?”
“What do you mean, stay behind in the amobiler?” Melamori erupted in fury. “I’m the one who tracked him down. I should go in first.”
She spoke with a vituperative intensity I had never before witnessed in her. Even during our heated row the night before, the gleam in her eyes hadn’t filled me with such alarm.
What’s all the rush about, my dear? I wondered to myself. Then I understood.
“That’s not Melamori talking! Or, rather, it’s Melamori, but she doesn’t know what she’s saying. He’s ‘caught’ her, too, Juffin! Melamori sniffed out Xropper, but he . . . well, he caught hold of his end of the trail she was following, when he realized what was going on. I don’t know how else to put it. The fellow thinks that he’s only being followed by one person, and he’s in a hurry to do battle. It’s a wonder she even waited for us at all.”
Sir Juffin squeezed my shoulder hard.
“That’s exactly right, only I—very well. Is that clear, Melamori? Are you going to let the Magician of some paltry third-rate Order make your decisions for you? Now get yourself over here, on the double!”
Melamori stared at us in astonishment and shook her head.
“I can’t, sir . . . I really can’t. And I’m sure we have to go into that house before he gets away. Vampires under your blankets, though, you’re right! These aren’t really my thoughts. And I didn’t want to wait for you. If you had come just a minute later . . .”
Meanwhile, Lonli-Lokli had managed to get out of the amobiler and pick up Melamori, lifting her high in the air without any visible effort.
“There we go! Do you feel better now, lady?” he asked, seating the bewildered Melamori on his shoulders. “Why don’t we study the aforementioned phenomenon a bit later, gentlemen?” suggested this remarkable individual in his most imperturbable manner.
We exchanged glances.
“Indeed, why not?” Juffin asked, and Melifaro and I peeled our backsides from the seat of the amobiler in seconds flat. The chief was right behind us.
“Well, do you agree to wait for us in the amobiler, girl?”
“Right now I’ll agree to anything.” Melamori clutched at Lonli-Lokli’s neck like a monkey. “I’m terrified of heights! But maybe you’d let me go in with you, after all? I’ll stay in the back, honest! I don’t want to have to sit in the amobiler.”
“All right, I suppose you may come. Only put your shoes on. You won’t have to do any more tracking for the time being, and you’re bound to cut yourself on a shard
of glass,” Juffin said. “Do you know whose house this is? This is where old Sir Gartom Xattel Min lives. About a hundred years ago, terrible stories went the rounds about the disorderliness of his home, until everyone finally grew bored with the topic. Sir Shurf, let the lady down. Then grab Max and get a move on! The three of us will follow you.”
Sir Shurf looked me up and down, and then picked me up with the gallantry of a professional stevedore.
“Shurf, I can walk!” I shouted. “Juffin didn’t mean it like that.”
“Is that true, Sir Juffin?” Lonli-Lokli asked politely.
“What? Oh, Sinning Magicians! You’re driving me out of my wits, boys! Of course I only meant for you to go in together. What kind of an outfit is this? Secret Investigative Force, terror of the universe, my foot! It’s a circus, that’s what it is!”
Lonli-Lokli and I finally entered the yard, and then the dark, dank-smelling hall of the enormous deserted building.
“How are we going to find this fellow, Shurf?” I asked in panic. “This house is as big as a town!”
“Yes, the house is rather sizable,” Lonli-Lokli agreed. “Don’t worry, Max. At this distance, even I’m able to pick up his scent. I have quite a bit of experience in this area: before Lady Melamori joined our force, we had to get along without a Master of Pursuit. It’s a very rare talent, and finding the right person for the job is difficult. Our previous Master of Pursuit, Sir Totoxatta Shlomm, met his end in a situation very much like this one. Only his adversary was much more formidable—he had acquired a glove like my own.”
I gave a low whistle.
“Sir Totoxatta was an unimpeachable Master of Pursuit, though not one distinguished by his caution. You know Max, it’s still very painful for me. We began working in the Secret Investigative Force on the same day, and we became fast friends—go left and sidestep this shard of glass, no boot could withstand a specimen like that— that’s why I warned Lady Melamori that all the Orders, even those that are not too powerful, have their dangerous little secrets. She was in serious danger. Get back! Quick!”
Lonli-Lokli’s white looxi flitted through the darkness like an eccentric ghost. His shining right hand, which brought not death, but petrifaction, illuminated a frightened elderly face for one split second. Then everything went dark again.
I inched closer and found myself staring at a wrinkled, swarthy old man in a tattered looxi. His body lay immobile on the floor in an unnatural pose. His hands were raised above his head, and his legs were bent at the knee. It could have been the pose of a toppled statue, but not of a living being, conscious or otherwise.
“Is this the Grand Magician?”
Lonli-Lokli shook his head.
“No, Max. This is the master of the house, Sir Gartom Xattel Min. See, he’s wearing the same kind of belt as the others. That was very shrewd of Xropper to have a complete stranger lie in ambush. When a Master of Pursuit is close to her prey, she has no awareness of anything else: that’s how they are. That’s why he wanted Lady Melamori to enter alone. I consider that to be justified only when tracking down simple civilians, but even then it’s undesirable to my mind.”
“But what could this old man have done to her?” I asked, confused. “Surely he’s no great warrior.”
“Never judge too hastily, my friend. Once a person has learned to shoot from the Slingshot of Babum, he never loses the skill. And a shot to the head is capable of killing anyone, even the Master of Pursuit. Do you see what he has in his hands?”
My head was spinning. Melamori could have died by some primitive slingshot in the junky recesses of a dank old corridor—this was too much! Never mind my ill-used broken heart. Let her do what she wishes. Let her even get married, like countless other old girlfriends of mine; but let her stay alive! I don’t really know whether a good friendship has advantages over a flaming passion, as Juffin claims it does, but it has a decided advantage over death!
“Let’s hurry and get out of here, Shurf,” I said hoarsely. “We’ll get rid of this Xropper character, and then scram.”
Lonli-Lokli had no objections, and we went on our way, wandering through littered corridors and steep staircases until we found ourselves in a basement room.
“Stay behind me, Max,” Lonli-Lokli said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Today hasn’t been the most uneventful day, and there may be more excitement in store. He’s somewhere nearby, so . . .”
The lustrous white shimmer of Lonli-Lokli’s death-dealing hands began cutting intricate designs in the darkness.
“What are you doing, Shurf?”
“It’s better to force your victim out than to seek him yourself. Do you really think that killing is my only accomplishment, Max? My profession requires a much wider spectrum of skills.” He paused and squinted into the darkness. “See? There he is. This spell is foolproof—with people, that is. Yowzer shazam, bim bam!”
His final exclamation was accompanied by a bright explosion, and I realized that Sir Xropper Moa, the Grand Magician of the Order of the Barking Fish, had left the world of the living. At that moment, his name assumed an honorable place on the list of the latest accomplishments of the Secret Investigative Force.
“There you have it,” Lonli-Lokli said, pulling on his gloves. “Finishing a case is always easier than starting it. Have you ever thought about that, Max?”
“No, but I promise I will.”
“As always, Sir Shurf has been equal to the task!” Juffin’s voice rang out from behind us. “I apologize, but we were detained, boys. I used the opportunity to lecture Lady Melamori over the body of the slovenly old codger.”
“I told you we would miss the most interesting part,” Melamori protested in an injured tone. She was still shrouded in darkness. “Everyone’s already been killed. How disappointing!”
“The most interesting part, you say?” Juffin’s eyebrows shot up. “Gentlemen, do you know what’s in this basement?”
“Of course we do,” Melifaro’s face appeared in the doorway. “Somewhere here is the secret entrance to Jafax. The eldest son of Sir Gartom Xattel Min is one of the most prominent junior Magicians of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover, hallowed be its name, and greetings to your Uncle Kima, Melamori. Is that what you meant, Sir?”
“It’s impossible to surprise any of you,” Juffin said, pursing his lips in mock displeasure. “My congratulations, boys. Today Grand Magician Nuflin will be able to sleep peacefully, which doesn’t happen every day. It’s too bad, of course, that you had to kill Xropper, Sir Shurf.”
“But you know yourself, Sir Juffin, that this is the lot of every Mutinous Magician who has made three attempts at murder, whatever the outcome.”
“Don’t take it amiss, Sir Shurf. Your actions were perfectly correct. I just wanted to know what this madman intended to do with the Shining Seven-Leaf Clover. As far as I know, this object is of no benefit to anyone else in the World but Magician Nuflin. Perhaps I’m wrong?”
The tremor of uncertainty in Sir Juffin Hully’s voice lent a certain charm to the end of the case. Besides, there was still trouble in store for us.
We returned to the House by the Bridge and put old Xattel Min in a a detention cell for those awaiting trial. It was decided not to revive this poor apology for a marksman while he was still wearing the belt. Why borrow trouble?
“Go home to rest, boys,” Juffin ordered. “Everyone but . . . How about you, Max? Are you ready to roll?”
“I’ll say!” I admitted readily.
I was even afraid to think of going home. Armstrong and Ella were waiting for me; but so were sweet memories that were better kept at bay.
I looked at Melamori, who was intent on studying the floor under her own feet. The prospect of going home to rest clearly did not fill her with enthusiasm, either. She was as unhappy as I was, proof that I wasn’t alone in having found at last what I had sought for so long. Sooner or later she would have to try to make her life bearable—and the sooner the better. So I did the first t
hing that occurred to me: I sent a call to Melifaro.
If you don’t walk her home, friend, you’re a miserable louse!
Melifaro nearly fell off his chair in astonishment, then looked at me quizzically.
Do what you’re told!
What’s gotten into you, Mr. Bad Dream? I always thought you dwellers of the endless plains were as jealous as—
But I’m a crazy dweller of the endless plains, so . . . hold your tongue, Ninth Volume of the Encyclopedia! Over and out!
I saved face by running off and closing myself in the office that Juffin and I shared. Since I really am “as jealous as . . . ,” I do wonder “what,” or “whom”?
Sir Juffin Hully joined me after a few minutes.
“Are you sure you can hold out one more night, Max? I can probably do without your help. Only you’ll have to release your bosom buddy. Can you get along without him?”
“Bosom buddy? Oh, Sinning Magicians, Juffin! I completely forgot!”
Now this was amusing: I had grown so used to carrying around Agon the miniscule merchant that I had ceased paying any attention to him at all. “Do you need him now?”
“Not really. You can wait a while if you’re not in any hurry. Lady Sotofa promised to arrive in a few hours. I need Agon to send a call to his captives, all those belted fools. They’ll come to the House by the Bridge and Lady Sotofa will undress them. That’s nothing to her, as you know.”
“In that case, I’m not going anywhere. Lady Sotofa is a queen among women! Don’t you think so?”
Sir Juffin sniffed.
“That she may very well be. Well now, Sir Max. We’ll have some dinner, and you can set your companion free a bit later. You aren’t very anxious to go home, am I right?”
