The Stranger - Max Frei [214]
“What do you mean? Sir Kofa will keep on eating, and Lookfi never notices anything anyway,” Melifaro snorted. “And no one will shed a tear over our mangled bodies.”
“I think a catastrophe like that would be a serious loss for the Unified Kingdom,” Lonli-Lokli said in an imposing voice.
Melifaro snickered with quiet mirth, but refrained from his usual guffaw.
“No time to bemoan your fate; here we arrive at our destination,” I said with a grin. “Some heroes you are! Jump out. Forward, march, Lady Melamori! Show all those Magicians from the Grunting Kitty-Cat what a pound of Boboota’s crap is worth in a bad harvest year!”
My outburst surprised even me. Juffin and Melifaro exchanged glances and exploded in laughter. Even the glum Melamori smiled. Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli looked at us like we were all unruly but beloved children, and got out of the amobiler.
Then the Master of Pursuit took off her elegant boots, entered the tavern, and circled through the large hall.
“He’s been here! Magicians are always easier to track down, Sir Juffin,” she shouted. “Here is his trail. He’s somewhere nearby, I swear by your nose!”
“Swear by your own, girl. I need mine.”
Sir Juffin Hully looked like a fisherman who had caught a twenty-pound trout.
Melamori left the tavern, then set off by herself, hot on the trail. We piled back into the amobiler to await her summons. After half an hour, I felt Juffin’s hand on my shoulder. He said:
“The Street of Forgotten Poets, Max. You know where it is?”
“It’s the first I’ve heard of it. Is there a street with such name?”
“No time to wonder—just press on the levers and let’s get going. Drive toward Jafax, it’s in that direction. It’s a small alleyway. I’ll show you where to turn.”
The Street of Forgotten Poets lived up to its name. It was so deserted that tufts of pale white grass grew between the intricate designs of the paving stones.
There was only one house on this street—but what a house! It was a veritable castle, surrounded by a high wall that still bore the indistinct traces of ancient inscriptions. Beside the gate, tapping her bare little foot impatiently, stood Melamori. She displayed a reckless, nervous joy that I found somewhat unsettling.
“He’s here,” the Master of Pursuit said through clenched teeth. “When he sensed me near, the little stinker first grew sad, and then started losing the remaining scraps of his pathetic mind. It’s too bad you made me wait for you, Juffin! I could have already been through with him. Well, I’m off. Follow me!”
“Not so fast!” Juffin barked. “Lonli-Lokli will go in first. That’s his job. It would be far better for you just to stay behind in the amobiler. Where is your praiseworthy caution, lady?”
“What do you mean, stay behind in the amobiler?” Melamori erupted in fury. “I’m the one who tracked him down. I should go in first.”
She spoke with a vituperative intensity I had never before witnessed in her. Even during our heated row the night before, the gleam in her eyes hadn’t filled me with such alarm.
What’s all the rush about, my dear? I wondered to myself. Then I understood.
“That’s not Melamori talking! Or, rather, it’s Melamori, but she doesn’t know what she’s saying. He’s ‘caught’ her, too, Juffin! Melamori sniffed out Xropper, but he . . . well, he caught hold of his end of the trail she was following, when he realized what was going on. I don’t know how else to put it. The fellow thinks that he’s only being followed by one person, and he’s in a hurry to do battle. It’s a wonder she even waited for us at all.”
Sir Juffin squeezed my shoulder hard.
“That’s exactly right, only I—very well. Is that clear, Melamori? Are you going to let the Magician of some paltry third-rate Order make your decisions for you? Now get yourself over here, on the double!”
Melamori stared at us in astonishment and shook her head.
“I can’t, sir . . . I really can’t. And