The Stranger - Max Frei [184]
It had been ten days since our historic visit to Jafax, when I received a call from Sir Kofa Yox an hour before sunset. I was just about to fish out a sixth cigarette butt from the Chink between Worlds. Getting more than five cigarettes before leaving for work was a rare achievement, but I kept right on trying.
Take your regular clothes with you today, Max. You’ll need them, Kofa advised.
Has something happened? I asked in alarm.
No, but something will, believe me. Wait for me after midnight, boy. Over and out.
I was so intrigued that I even forgot to be glad about the sixth cigarette, which I found in my hand.
At the House by the Bridge, the usual chaos reigned. An angry, already thinner Melifaro was fighting off hordes of cooks who were lusting after the Earring of Oxalla.
“I work until sundown, gentlemen. Sun-DOWN. You know what that is? It’s when the sun goes beddy-bye. Do you know what the sun is? It’s that shiny round object that crawls through the heavens! I think I’m making myself clear. Come back tomorrow!”
The cooks shuffled disconsolately around the Hall of Common Labor, hoping Melifaro might just be blowing off a little steam before getting down to work again.
“Indeed, why don’t you come back tomorrow, gentlemen?” I suggested amicably. “Or if you’re so determined, I guess I could try my hand at it. Any volunteers?”
The cooks began to depart, eyeing my black and gold Mantle of Death suspiciously. A moment later, Melifaro and I found ourselves alone.
“Thanks, Mr. Bad Dream!” Melifaro smiled wearily. “I never realized there were so many cooks in Echo. Today alone I obliged a hundred fifty of them. It is magic, after all. And I’m not made of steel, as this monster Juffin seems to think I am. I’m going home to bed. Tomorrow it’s sure be more of the same!”
I went into the office. Sir Juffin Hully had already left, most likely to some tavern to sow the sweet fruits of his government labor.
“Max!” Melamori peeked through the half-opened door. “Are you here, yet?”
“No,” I said, with a shake of my head. “You’re hallucinating.”
“Oh, that’s what I thought,” said Melamori and perched on the arm of my chair. This was a sudden change of events!
“Will you treat me to some kamra, Sir Max? Let’s sit here and talk a bit. I don’t feel like walking today. You know, I just can’t sleep these days. I wanted to ask you . . .”
“Ask away.”
At that moment, the delivery boy from the Glutton Bunba interrupted us. Melamori poured herself some kamra and leaned her face over the mug to catch the soothing steam. I understood this meant we would begin to talk in another ten minutes or so. I was already familiar with all her little habits. After thinking a bit, I reached for a cigarette. To heck with conspiracy and discretion—if worse comes to worst, I’ll tell her the cigarettes were sent to me from my long-lost homeland.
But Melamori wasn’t concerned about my cigarettes.
“I dream about you every night,” she announced gloomily. “And I just wanted to know, are you doing this on purpose?”
I shook my head. I had a clean conscience. I really didn’t have anything to do with it. And I actually had no idea how to pull something off like that off “on purpose.”
“I dream of you, too. What’s so surprising about that? I think about you, and then I dream of you. That’s all. That’s the way it always is.”
“I’m talking about something else. Are you sure you don’t do even a bit of magic?”
I burst out laughing.
“I wouldn’t even know how to do any magic like that, Melamori! Ask Juffin. He has to make such an effort to teach me the simplest things.”
This was something of an exaggeration. I learned easily and quickly. It just seemed to me that it wouldn’t hurt to lay it on a bit thick. Let the lady think I was a dullard, and sleep soundly.
“Fine. I probably think about you, Max—but these dreams truly frighten me. I just wanted to say that if you do making magic, you don’t need to. You don’t have to force me into anything. I want to myself, but . . . just wait a while. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.