The Stranger - Max Frei [148]
“I’ll go upstairs alone. And you know what I suggest? If I were you, I’d find the company of my friends, or a relative, just in case worse comes to worst. Get them out of bed and tell them your sorrows. They’ll give you all kinds of potions, and finally you’ll grow tired of simple consolations and fall sound asleep. It may seem unbearable, but . . . it’s a way to keep from losing your mind. I’ll send you a call when I need to question you, but it will most likely not be before morning.”
“I’ll go over to Shattraya’s. She’s Karry’s youngest sister. Lady Shattraya Kovareka is her full name. She’s a good girl, and I’ll have to comfort her. And that’s better than . . . You’re a very kind person, Sir Max. Only a person who truly knows what pain is could give me such advice. Thank you.”
“Shall I accompany you?” I called into the darkness.
“Shattraya lives just on the next street over!” The faint voice of Lady Tanita melted away in the dull orange mist of the streetlights.
I went into the house through the relatively small living room. Of course, a large part of the house was occupied by the Tipsy Bottle, a cozy little restaurant whose atmosphere was completely incongruous with its silly name. I had been there once during the fall, I seemed to remember. I recalled that I had even chatted with the proprietor, a short, stocky man with an exceptionally thick crop of chestnut hair. At that time I wasn’t yet wearing the Mantle of Death, and I wasn’t constantly being bombarded with polite, strained smiles and terrified looks.
I went upstairs. If only Lady Tanita had known that, without her, I was as scared as a child whose parents risk leaving him alone for the first time to go to the movies! But there was nothing I could do about it.
I threw open the door to the bedroom with a heavy heart. My nose was greeted by a smell of tasty food so unexpected that I froze in my tracks. Then I groped around for the light switch. A warm orange light filled the room. Here in Echo, special glowing mushrooms are often used for lighting streets and interiors. They multiply eagerly in special vessels like lampshades. The trick is that the mushrooms begin to shine when something irritates them. The light switch sets brushes in motion that gently but insistently tickle the mushrooms caps. They react instantaneously.
The orange hue of the angry mushrooms doesn’t appeal to everyone. Many esthetes prefer candles, or spheres with glowing blue gas. Sir Juffin Hully is partial to the latter. I got used to blue light when I lived with him, and I acquired the same kind of spheres for my own living quarters. But now the orange illumination also seemed sweet to me; the people who lived here thought so, too, apparently.
Thus, the mushrooms worked themselves into a temper, and I was able to glance around.
Something was lying in the middle of the fluffy carpet among the scattered blankets. That something was indeed dressed in garb resembling pajamas—a roomy skaba made of soft fabric. I had never taught myself to use this unappealing garment. To romp around in a skaba and looxi, that was one thing. But to sleep in a shapeless parachute of a thing that looked like your grandmother’s nightgown—excuse me! That was asking too much. And in a good bed, one must sleep in one’s birthday suit—a time-tested rule.
The mysterious “something” clearly belonged to the opposing camp, since it was wearing pajamas. Its resemblance to a human being seemed to stop there, however. In front of me was a real piece of meat, well-cooked and appetizing. It gave off a dizzying, tantalizing, and vaguely familiar aroma.
I inched closer. This was very trying on the nerves. I almost got sick, despite the wonderful aroma. The meat really did have the wretched face of a human being. The remains of its features were encircled by a halo of chestnut curls that even I recognized as belonging to Karwen, though I had only once laid eyes on him. Lady Tanita was right. There were no grounds for hoping otherwise.
“Sinning Magicians,” I exclaimed aloud. “Now what am I