The Stranger: The Labyrinths of Echo, Part One

by Max Frei

  “Oh, that’s an entire science,” Lonli-Lokli said respectfully. “In my opinion it’s very hard to understand how it works.”

  “Really? I never thought so. It’s fairly simple. Well, shall we go on?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Very well. Now this expression may be used interchangeably with the straightforward human expression ‘go away,’ but it makes the one on the receiving end doubt his own ability to procreate. And this is a kind of animal, and at the same time a man who is undeserving of respect, and who has problems with his back passage—”

  “And what kinds of problems are they that beset the poor man?”

  “It’s hard to say,” I muttered, frustrated. “Magicians be praised, nothing like that ever happened to me.”

  In about fifteen minutes we had come to the end of the list. Toward the end I was inclined to blush; but Sir Lonli-Lokli was happy, and that was the main thing.

  “I’ll probably go home to bed, if you don’t have any other plans for tonight,” my friend suggested uncertainly.

  We had just left the cozy little tavern, and I was feverishly trying to think of a way to make my escape. I had an appointment to keep at the Down Home Diner with Sir Mackie Ainti.

  “Sure, Shurf,” I said, secretly relieved. “I do have plans tonight, but—”

  “I understand. It’s better this way. Since I came to after trying that strange herb, all I want to do is sleep.”

  “All the better. Sweet sleep is an excellent thing. By the way, I really hope you weren’t terribly shocked by the cursing.”

  “Why are you so worried, Max?” Lonli-Lokli asked, surprised. “Words are just that—words, and nothing more. Even if you had said them in a conscious state, I would have considered the situation to be more amusing than alarming.”

  “You’ve taken a load off my chest! In that case, good night, Sir Shurf. I hope it won’t be three or four days before I return. After our meal I have just a little more than two crowns left. Here, you take one. At least we won’t starve.”

  “I also hope I see you in the morning,” said Lonli-Lokli. “Thank you, Max. You are demonstrating enviable foresight.”

  I didn’t even have to look at the map. I remembered the way to the Down Home Diner, although it was unusual for me not to be disoriented in an unfamiliar town. Soon I had arrived at the intersection of High Street and Fisheye Street. I had already heard the gurgling of the fountain several blocks away.

  Sir Mackie was sitting in the same place, hunched over the Kettarian version of chess, as before. He was the only one in the hall.

  “Welcome, partner,” he said, turning to me. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d go that far.”

  “What do you mean?” I was taken aback.

  “Stop pulling my leg. All right, all right—I just want to say that you cook up Worlds like nobody’s business. I wish I could do it so easily. True, you didn’t actually realize what you were doing, and so forfeited the lion’s share of pleasure. But that’s just a temporary hitch.”

  I drew in a sharp breath. “Do you mean to say that this city of my dreams wasn’t there before? I was the one who—”

  “Sit down and take a breather, Max. You seem to have several primitive, but extremely effective ways of making yourself relax. Go ahead. Hellika!”

  The smiling tavernkeeper appeared at his table instantly. Rather than sitting down with Sir Mackie, I went over to the place I had been sitting the first time. Mackie stopped his solitary game and came over to join me. Judging by the expression on his face, I had done the right thing.

  “Hellika, sweetheart, this boy wants the same thing he had last time. As usual, I don’t need a thing, to my great consternation.”

  She nodded and vanished. I shrugged. Another miracle, big deal!

  “Sir Mackie, tell me how—”

  “‘How!?’ Pshaw! That’s something I’m not able to tell you. The world is full of inexplicable things. There’s just one thing I can say to you: from the very start I expected something like this. That’s why I suggested you take a walk outside the city gates. I was right, as you could see. Kettari used to be surrounded by emptiness, and now a marvelous city has sprung up out there—a city very much to my taste. And with a splendid park, too! And stop calling me ‘sir,’ partner. That just doesn’t cut it. Ah, here’s your preferred beverage! You’ve earned it, there’s no gainsaying it! Did you ever think that someone would be paying you with a cup of coffee for creating a World?”

  “Coffee’s not a bad form of currency. I’m fine with it. But what I would like to know is what happened to Lady Marilyn? Can you at least tell me that? Sir Kofa devoted a lot of time and energy to casting that spell. I was supposed to go around with that fetching face and hairdo for at least a few dozen days, if not longer.”

  “It’s a strange story,” Sir Mackie said with a wink. “I’ve never seen the like, I must say. She just really took a fancy to that park.”

  “What?”

  “The park! You heard right. You see, that park of yours—it was no ordinary park. I had to do some serious scoutin’ before I could figure that one out. In short, these days there’s one pretty ghost wandering around in your favorite park. The ghost doesn’t hold any grudges, though. Lady Marilyn still preserves her easy-going nature, so don’t worry on that score.”

  “This is too much!” I said. “All my life I was sure that the creator of something certainly had to be aware of what he was creating.”

  “And now you know that’s not so. Experience isn’t the worst way to come by reliable information, what do you say? Drink up that foul-smelling stuff of yours, or it’ll get cold.”

  “The smell of coffee is just something you have to get used to,” I said, smiling.

  “I’m willing to believe it! Well, I’ll have to try it anyway. In that amusing city born of your tenderness and solitude, everyone drinks that stuff, don’t they?”

  “I don’t doubt it. But what do you mean by ‘tenderness and solitude’? That’s just a manner of speaking, right?”

  “It’s just a habit of mine to tell it like it is. Someday you’ll understand that these were the feelings that governed you when you first saw the vague outline of that place that never existed until you summoned it up. Don’t rush it, Max. You’ll have plenty of time to get to the bottom of your own escapades. The main thing is that they succeed—and so easily! Too easily I might have said; but no one asked me now, did they? But why should I waste my breath heaping praise on you? And praise really isn’t called for, since everyone just does what he can, whether he wants to or not. Did you want to ask me something, Max?”

  All my carefully prepared questions had vanished from my head. Never mind, they weren’t important. I lit a cigarette, anticipating my enjoyment, and looked at Mackie with avid interest.

  “And can you explain to me why you—or, why we, together—are doing all this? I mean why do we need to create new Worlds at all? I suspect that even without our help there are an infinite numbers of them.”

  “Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t stand that darn-fool word ‘why’? Try using it a little less often. Or, better yet, drop it altogether. At least when you’re talking to me. ‘Why’ isn’t the right way of putting the question when you’re talking about creating a new World. Everything that’s truly interesting and worthwhile exists somewhere beyond the realm of cause and effect.”

  Mackie tossed his head angrily, and methodically lit his short, oddly shaped pipe. Then he smiled under his mustache and went on, his tone much gentler now.

  “Worlds, both inhabited and deserted, are far more numerous than you’re able to imagine. But we have to do something, you and I, don’t we? And then, who knows, maybe it’ll turn out better for us than it has thus far for others. Not a bad reason either, is it? Is that enough for you?”

  “To be honest, no.”

  “Well, ask Juffin sometime. There’s one who never objected to the word ‘why.’ On the contrary, he always loved to expl
ain the reasons behind his own and others’ actions. And it’s easier for you two to communicate—you’re almost the same age.”

  “The same age!”

  “Well, compared to me, anyway. I can’t even remember how long I’ve been knocking about the World. It’s like I just got lost here at some point and then decided to stay. Though I’m not at all sure that’s really how it was.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  “All my life I wanted to live forever. Let others die, I thought, but I’ll hold out, somehow. And now you’ve given me hope.”

  “Hope is a darn-fool feeling,” Sir Mackie said sternly, tossing his head again. “It’s best not to hope for anything, that’s my advice to you. Well now, let’s drop these serious matters. I have something else to discuss with you. From what I hear, your companion doesn’t know about any of this?”

  “That’s something I wanted to ask you. Poor Lonli-Lokli couldn’t get beyond the city gates. When he tried it made him feel sick and uncomfortable. I wanted to let him know about my city in the mountains. He saw my dream, too, one time. Why should I have to hide something like that from Shurf? Besides, he’s good at keeping secrets.”

  “I’m not the one you should be asking,” Mackie said, smiling. “A newborn World is always very capricious. They have their own idiosyncrasies. Take Juffin, for example. It never wants him to get too close to it. Why might that be? No idea. Though if anyone should know, it’s me. Honestly, I don’t have a lot to say in the matter. Maybe later, at home, your friend can hear the whole story without even wincing. I think that’s how it’s likely to unfold. But I do have a request that’s more for your friend than for you. Alas, I’m unable to invite him here.”

  “A request?” I asked, surprised. “You have a request for Lonli-Lokli?”

  “Yes. That comes as a surprise to you?”

  “Of course it does. I didn’t think there was anything you lacked or couldn’t take care of yourself.”

  “Well, to be honest, it’s not that I can’t take care of it myself, but that I don’t want to. I’m lazy, you know. And then, this matter will be quite intriguing for your friend, you’ll see. As far as the caprices of newborn Worlds are concerned, what they’re always ready to indulge is any kind of culprit or evil spirit. Not long ago, a gentleman showed up in these parts—someone I didn’t take a liking to at all. Not that he’s all that dangerous for the locals, but it’s unpleasant for me to have to be aware of his constant presence.”

  “Another Mutinous Magician?”

  “Worse, Max. A Dead Magician. Believe me, there’s no evil spirit more restless than a Grand Magician killed unjustly. And your friend is an expert in such matters, as I understand it.”

  “You got that right.” I smiled. “He’ll take care of him in no time.”

  “Well, I don’t know about ‘in no time’—I think you’re being a bit hasty there. But he’ll take care of him, I’m pretty sure. Just tell your companion that Kiba Attsax is on the loose. That’ll be enough, you’ll see.”

  “Sure, I’ll tell him. Is that all?”

  “You can also say it’s a big problem, that in Kettari things were just fine till that ornery varmint came around. That claim is very close to the truth, and a person should always be sure he’s doing something important. It’s more pleasant that way, and things will progress better.” He rose from his chair. “Well, I’d say you’ve had enough of my company for one day. Last time it was a bit too much for you, wasn’t it? Did it take long for you to recover?”

  “Twenty gallons of cold water on my poor crazy head. The secret cure of Sir Maba of Echo, or Magicians only know where he’s from. Seriously, Mackie—I almost went totally bonkers! Maybe you’ve got a better cure?”

  “A long walk. But it’s even better to busy yourself with something completely meaningless. Doesn’t matter what. Read a book. Play cards with someone. The main thing is not to sit in one place, and not to try to reason it all out. Nothing will come of it, no matter how hard you try. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I said. “Well, I’ll think of something. By the way, you don’t happen to know the name of that city? My city in the mountains, I mean?”

  “No idea. You should have asked the people who live there. G’night, partner!”

  “Good night, Mackie. I’m off to do something meaningless, as you suggest. That’s what I do best.”

  I left the Down Home Diner with fairly firm plans for the night ahead. For one thing, I was determined not to lose my mind. And I liked Mackie’s idea about taking up cards. I reckoned it would give me a chance not only to pass the time pleasantly, but also to improve Shurf’s and my financial situation.

  It was a fairly casual proposition, but not a groundless one—I could play a mean game of Krak. Sir Juffin Hully himself had taught me to kill time that way. And he was the luckiest card player in the Unified Kingdom.

  Then some hundred-odd years ago, the late Gurig VII issued a special proclamation that prohibited Sir Juffin from playing Krak in public places. The old King was forced to take this measure after the fortunes of several dozen of his courtiers migrated into the pockets of the enterprising Kettarian. Juffin, by the way, didn’t object. There was no one left who could keep him company at the card table, and the unprecedented Royal Proclamation flattered him no end.

  With me, Juffin played purely for pleasure, of course, since this took place at the time I was still financially dependent on him. Anyway, the first day, after a dozen embarrassing losses, I won two games against Sir Juffin Hully. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The next evening, we continued playing. Our luck fluctuated. I still lost more often than my experienced teacher. But, in Juffin’s words, even that was highly improbable.

  I should note that I myself saw nothing improbable in it. Already as a child, I had concluded that a great deal depends on who teaches you to play a game. It doesn’t really have anything to do with pedagogical gifts—you just need to learn from a lucky player. If you do, in addition to getting useful information about the rules of the game, some of your teacher’s luck will rub off on you, too.

  For this small discovery, I had my unusual lifestyle to thank—rich in nighttime pursuits and friends, lucky and not-so-lucky, who managed to teach me every card game known to man.

  So I had the opportunity to compare, and then draw my conclusion. When I proudly announced this conclusion to Juffin, he nodded absently, which could very easily have passed for agreement.

  In any case, I had nothing to lose except one crown and a few bits of loose change, the entire paltry fortune that remained to me and Lonli-Lokli. If I lost, it wouldn’t be a great disaster. Otherwise I would just end up spending these riches in the first diner I came across, on some junk like the local liqueur—the mere thought of which, frankly speaking, turned my stomach.

  I headed resolutely in the direction of Cheerful Square. I had no doubt about what the customers at the Country Home were doing at the spacious bar at the back of the main dining hall. I had a reliable witness—Sir Lonli-Lokli, who had lost his shirt.

  There was one hitch in this whole affair. I hate playing with strangers. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but it seems I am really quite shy. But no one could help me there. And anything was better than sitting in the living room, watching poor Max lose his mind. A few trivial problems might make you forget about your one and only true problem. I crossed the brightly lighted dining hall of the Country Home and headed straight for the bar, plunged in semidarkness, where I found the epicenter of Kettarian card-playing society, just as I had predicted.

  I sat down on a barstool, and without much deliberation ordered some Jubatic Juice. This was a tried and true beverage. In sufficient quantities, not only would it cure me of shyness, I wouldn’t even hesitate to sit, lost in thought, in a glass bathroom in the middle of the city’s central square after imbibing enough of it. For a while I wondered, would it be too dramatic to light up a cigarette without leaving my seat in the middle of the hall? Lonli-Lokli was at
home asleep, and there was no one to keep an eye on me.

  Finally, I decided that the more exotic I looked, the better. The sooner the locals understood I was a simple alien dork, the better were my chances of being invited to join in their sordid doings. A big gulp of Jubatic Juice gave me courage in my reckless, but essentially judicious, decision.

  I waved aside all my qualms and lit up. If only poor Sir Kofa, the unsurpassed master of masquerade, could see me now! After all his efforts, here I was sitting in the middle of Kettari with my own inelegant face and unkempt hair, smoking something that doesn’t even exist in this World, and planning to drink some courage and fraternize with the locals! But whom did I need to hide from in this nonexistent city, in this heart of a new World—a World, moreover, that I myself was helping to create? It was crazy, but it made sense. So I finished my cigarette with great enjoyment, took a few more swigs from my huge glass, and reached demonstratively for the yellowish-gold, already half-empty, pack.

  “Well, you seem to be rather bored, sir,” someone behind me observed politely.

  “I can’t tell you how bored I am. Since the moment I arrived in Kettari I’ve been dying of it.”

  I almost laughed out loud at my own awkward fabrication, as I turned to face the person who had addressed me.

  Well, what a surprise! It was an old acquaintance of mine, Mr. Abora Vala, our Master Caravan Leader in the flesh. He didn’t recognize me, of course. Lady Marilyn, the most beloved of the fictitious wives of that passionate gambler Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, was the one who had traveled in his caravan.

  The fellow studied my face curiously.

  “Have you been suffering from boredom in Kettari for a long time already?” he asked casually.

  “Five days or so, why?”

  “Oh, no reason. I just know most of the visitors to Kettari by face, and yours is unfamiliar.”