The Stranger - Max Frei [189]
“Is it hard being an ordinary mortal? Nuflin was right when he warned you. Oh, well, go ahead, kick up a fuss. And I’ll eat. I like these spoons.”
But I didn’t have to make a scene. The fresh-faced waiter was already hurrying over, waving a small spoon above his head victoriously. It was just what I imagined an ideal dessert-eating instrument to be.
“Shoopra Kon!” the fellow said, bowing obsequiously, and handed me the wonderful utensil. Then he turned to Sir Kofa and mumbled: “Xvarra tonikai! Prett.”
“Never mind,” Sir Kofa mumbled back. “Get along now, you poor fellow.” Then he turned to me. “Well, you’ve really done it now, boy. You don’t even need the Mantle of Death. People are afraid of you without it. Instinct, most likely. For Sir Max they find a spoon; but not for me, it seems. Incredible . . .”
I felt very satisfied with my petty victory. And the dessert lived up to my highest expectations.
“Don’t look now, Max!” Sir Kofa nudged me. “There’s another one. I don’t understand: is this some kind of new fashion?”
“Another what? I don’t—” I was brought up short.
I only had to glance toward the entrance, and everything was clear to me. A handsome young man in a splendid yellow looxi froze on the threshold. Underneath his elegant overcoat was a tattered skaba and a magnificent mother-of-pearl belt, the same kind that the fellow at the bar was wearing.
“It can’t be a coincidence,” Kofa said with a sniff. “It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever seen anything like that—and, suddenly, along comes his twin! Look, they’ve spotted each other! Well, well, well . . .”
The belted ones did a double-take, staring intently at one another. The face of the youthful newcomer in yellow registered surprise, fear, and, it seemed, even sympathy.
He opened his mouth, made a step as if he was going up to the bar, then turned on his heels and left. The first fellow was getting ready to rise, but he waved over the proprietor, instead. The tavern-keeper placed another mug in front of him, and the fellow began studying its contents again with great intensity.
“How do you like them apples, Max?”
“It is strange,” I replied uncertainly. “Oh, he’s leaving! Shall we follow him?”
“Hold your horses, hero! We don’t need to follow him.”
“Why not, Kofa?”
“Because . . . how can I explain it? It’s just not done. Secret investigators don’t go rushing around Echo, chasing down every suspicious Tom, Dick, or Harry that comes along. Preventing crime is not our job. But if something happens and they ask us politely to look into it—well, that’s another story. In short, we’re not going anywhere.”
“Well, you know best.”
I must admit, I was disappointed.
“That’s the way it is, boy,” Sir Kofa said with a wink. “Don’t be sad. All your chases and crime-hunting are still ahead of you. For the time being, you should just enjoy life.”
“Enjoy life? You’re making fun of me, Kofa. After tonight I’ll never be able to look at food again.”
“You’re in for a surprise. Now I’m going to reveal to you the oldest secret of Old Cuisine.”
“No!” I grimaced and shook my head. “With all due respect, Kofa, I refuse.”
“Never indulge in hasty decisions. You don’t know what’s in store for you yet. Don’t worry, Max. I’m not going to feed you, but cure you of your culinary overindulgence. Honest.”
“In that case—onward!” I exclaimed happily. “If I’ve ever needed a cure like that, now’s the time.”
And with that we left the Irrashi Coat of Arms.
“If you ever overeat like this again, you must go to the Empty Bowl,” Sir Kofa informed me. “Remember this address, friend: 36 Street of Reconciliation. I have a feeling you’ll be coming here often.”
The Empty Bowl was full of people, but they worked fast there! In just a few minutes a cook with a small cart came up to us. He rattled the bottles and vials with the concentration of an experienced pharmacist. I looked at the cart. Sinning Magicians! I almost threw up. The fellow drew out of a jar what looked like a huge piece of soft, greenish bacon grease and placed it on a tiny