Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [105]
As they talked, tourists would stroll by, from time to time snapping pictures of Max in his bright costume. On each occasion he would break off his conversation long enough to strike a pose for the crowds. And sometimes he’d dash off a few notes on his red flute. At those times the tourists would lose their happy smiles and quickly move along. Fire never played any but the most drear and mournful notes in Max’s hands.
“Isn’t this lovely?” Max said. He turned and threw one arm out, in a gesture that took in the entire town. “Isn’t it incredible, Peter? These mundys had their own tiny version of Hamelin Town, and it turns out they lost children from it as well. My capturing spell was so powerful, my song so enticing, that the evil deed was mirrored here. And in some rudimentary way, they knew I was the cause of it, even though I was never here. To be sure, they got some of the details wrong, but look how much they got right! My legend seeped through along with Fire’s magic. I wonder now if there were other versions of Hamelin, in other unknown worlds, and if each one of them lost their precious little darlings on the same night? Do you think so? How many children did I end up taking, all told?”
“What happened to them, Max?”
“The children?”
Peter nodded.
“I had debts to pay. Some of those worlds I traveled were dangerous places, and I had to strike many bargains in order to survive them. The little brats didn’t die happy, I’ll tell you that much. But that’s all blood under the bridge. Where were we?” A bright smile returned to Max’s face.
“Oh yes, I remember,” he said. “We were discussing this version of Hamelin. How bizarre is it that, not only do they know of me here, but they celebrate me? I stole away a hundred and thirty of their kids, the most horrifying deed in the city’s history, and they love me for it! I almost wish you could stay long enough to see every moment of the great party they’re throwing in my honor.”
“So do I,” Peter said.
“Yes, I imagine so. But that’s not to be. This is my day, and I can’t let you remain to spoil it for me. You’re just too gloomy.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“It’s simple enough. First, you’re going to stand up — Yes, you can do that now — and divest yourself of all those nasty toys your wife made you bring along.”
Peter stood up and started removing the knives and other killing things. One by one he dropped each deadly implement into the fountain’s lower pool. Each object made a satisfying plop as it sank into the water.
“How is the lovely Bo Peep by the way?” Max said. “Are her kisses still as sweet, now that they’re the only marital joys you can ever receive from her? Or have you actually tried to poke around down among her scars, desperate for a husband’s rightful privilege?”
“Are you going to kill her too, once you’ve disposed of me?” Peter asked. He twisted a bright copper ring off and dropped it into the pool, where it sparkled next to the miniature blowgun, and its darts, and the other discarded weapons. And though it wasn’t among his weapons, and posed no possible threat, Peter was also compelled to twist his wedding ring off his finger and add that to his dropped possessions in the water.
“I don’t think so. I’m enjoying her suffering too much. Why end it for her? Besides, she’ll no doubt pass away on her own, once she learns what became of her loving husband. You two seem to enjoy that rare storybook sort of love, where one can’t live without the other.”
“You seem to know a lot about us.”
“Absolutely everything, except where you were,” Max said. “That was the one little detail Fire could never uncover