The Stranger - Max Frei [136]
“Take it, my lady,” I plunked down a gold coin on the table where we were sitting. “Shall I wrap it into something, or are you superstitious?”
“Please do. I’m not superstitious, but . . . you never know.”
“Excellent! But I’ll bet ten crowns that you don’t know yourself why you’re afraid.”
“Don’t know? I’m not so crazy as to be afraid of who-knows-what nonsense. It’s just that you, Sir Max, are—I don’t know what you are! And the unknown is the only thing I’m afraid of. You lose, Sir Max. Money on the table! I’ll treat you to something a bit more pricy. Would you like some King’s Sweat?”
“How about some King’s Piss! Whatever is it?”
“The most expensive liqueur available. Over the counter, that is.”
“Fine. We’ll order some of your ‘Sweat.’”
“Not mine, the King’s! Anyway, it looks like you have managed to loosen my tongue after all, Sir Secret Investigator.”
“Frankly, I don’t understand. I’m a fairly ordinary person. Well, not without a few quirks that may be explained by my origins. Sir Manga Melifaro could deliver a whole lecture on the subject.”
“I don’t give a flying buttress about his lectures. Let him read them to Lookfi, he adores any sort of ethnographic nonsense. Try some of the liqueur, Max. It’s truly out of this world, despite the dubious name. But it’s time for us to go. Sir Juffin is bored without you, Sir Max . . . uh, just plain Max.”
The liqueur really was superb, though I’m not very fond of liqueur in general.
Naturally, I accompanied the damsel home. This is probably the custom in all Worlds, even when the lady is the incomparable Master of Pursuit. Along the way we were silent, until Melamori decided to dot and cross the leftover i’s and t’s.
“There’s nothing amiss, Max. It’s just that I have some doubts that I can’t completely dispel—not that I attach much credence to them, either. Of course, you’re no evil spirit. And you’re not a Mutinous Magician, recently returned to Echo. That’s obvious. But you still don’t strike me as being a normal person; even one with eccentricities. I really can’t figure you out. I like you very much, if you wish to know. But I sense some sort of threat emanating from you. Not just a vague, general kind of threat, but one that concerns me, personally. Though it’s hard to say for sure. Sir Juffin could probably help me, but he doesn’t want to. You know how he is. So I have to sort it all out myself. And I will, a hole in the heavens above you!”
“Go ahead and sort it out,” I said. “And when you’ve sorted it out, share the information with me. Because I for one am not aware of this hypothetical ‘threat.’ Do you promise?”
“I promise. But this is the only thing I can really promise. Good night, Max.”
With that Melamori disappeared behind the massive, ancient doors leading to her living quarters. And I went to the House by the Bridge, unsure about how to interpret the results of our evening together. On the one hand, they seemed more than promising. On the other . . . Well, time would tell. In any case, I would have to remind Lonli-Lokli to teach me some of those breathing exercises. I sensed that I would need some superhuman self-discipline in the near future.
A few days later, when it had started to seem that the incident involving my countryman had receded into the past, a call from Sir Juffin Hully got me out of bed somewhat earlier than I would have wished.
Wake up, Sir Max! the voice of my boss boomed through my sleepy brain. There are things in the World that are much more interesting than the dull slumber you’ve been plunged in for six hours straight. A visit to Maba Kalox, for instance. I’m coming to pick you up in an hour and a half.
I leaped out of bed as though on fire. Ella meowed indignantly at the disruption. Armstrong didn’t even twitch an ear.
I bathed, dressed, and downed a mug of kamra in record time—a quarter of an hour. That still left time for me to sit down in a chair and properly wake up.
“Maba says