The Stranger - Max Frei [123]
And Sir Maba overturned the table we were sitting at with a violent shove. The table crashed to the floor, shards of dishes went flying in all directions. I ducked instinctively, the chair flipped over, and in the wink of an eye I had landed on the most reliable of all points of rest, after executing a somersault à la Sir Melifaro.
A moment later I realized I was sitting not on Maba’s floor, but in the luxuriant grass beside a garden path. I glanced around, stunned. Next to me sat Juffin, roaring with laughter.
“Maba adores surprising novices. After meeting him for the first time I found myself at the bottom of a lake, crawling on all fours looking for some stairs, since I had completely forgotten I knew how to swim. In fact, the very notion that there existed such a useful skill as swimming never entered my head! It was several hours before I reached shore, and several years, if I remember correctly, before I understood how I had ended up there. But by then I couldn’t be angry at Maba, even if I tried very hard. Believe me, Sir Max, he was very humane in his treatment of you.”
“You call that humane? All the same, I liked Sir Maba very much.”
“I’m glad you did. Let’s go. You can sit at the levers—finding the way back is a piece of cake.”
“What were you and Maba discussing just before we left, Juffin?” I asked when I had come to my senses after our unorthodox parting from the Grand Magician. “I’m pretty quick on the uptake, but that was too fast even for me. ‘Couldn’t we—’ ‘No, we couldn’t.’ Forgive me for being importunate, but I’m terribly curious.”
Sir Juffin Hully waved his hand vaguely. “It’s no mystery. I meant to ask whether we might be able to find your countryman more quickly using you . . . well, as a model. Maybe there is some scent from your world so subtle that I can’t detect it. Or something of that nature, which might speed the case up a bit.”
“So?”
“You heard him—it’s impossible.”
“You mean my homeland has no smell? That’s disappointing.”
“It may very well smell, but you, Sir Max, are no reliable model.”
“I’m hurt,” I admitted in dismay.
“You needn’t be. Studying True Magic has already changed you too much. You yourself may not notice these changes, but you can take my word for it. If we use you as a model, we might just as likely find me—or Maba Kalox himself.”
“That’s also relevant,” I remarked. “You yourself said that seeking him out to pay a visit was no easy matter.”
“Yes, but I’d prefer to find this ‘lunatic’ for a start—and only then undertake a more intellectual pursuit. Sleeping, for instance. Ah, here we are already.”
“And his clothes, Juffin?” I asked, getting out of the amobiler. “I’m willing to bet they are no more fitting for a walk around Echo than the trousers I showed up in.”
“Oh, but this is the capital of the Unified Kingdom. There are dozens of visitor here at any given time. It’s no secret to the local residents that half the World wears trousers, including those very citizens of the free city of Gazhin, not to mention the inhabitants of the Borderlands so dear to your heart. Trousers will surprise no one here. The time when locals were ready to gawk at every foreign costume is long since past. Now they don’t even turn their heads. How are things, Melifaro?” Juffin asked our colleague, whom we found stretching his legs in the main foyer of the House by the Bridge, nonchalantly studying the artwork that adorned the walls.
“Not bad, that is to say, no more corpses,” Melifaro reported briskly. “The fellow has wound down, I suppose. He really should take better care of his health. Sir Juffin, are you ready to save my skin from this poison-spewing monster? Not long ago he threatened to do me in!”
I stared at Melifaro in bewilderment.
“When was that?”
I had already clean forgotten about Lonli-Lokli’s serenade yesterday, after