The Stranger - Max Frei [215]
Meanwhile, Lonli-Lokli had managed to get out of the amobiler and pick up Melamori, lifting her high in the air without any visible effort.
“There we go! Do you feel better now, lady?” he asked, seating the bewildered Melamori on his shoulders. “Why don’t we study the aforementioned phenomenon a bit later, gentlemen?” suggested this remarkable individual in his most imperturbable manner.
We exchanged glances.
“Indeed, why not?” Juffin asked, and Melifaro and I peeled our backsides from the seat of the amobiler in seconds flat. The chief was right behind us.
“Well, do you agree to wait for us in the amobiler, girl?”
“Right now I’ll agree to anything.” Melamori clutched at Lonli-Lokli’s neck like a monkey. “I’m terrified of heights! But maybe you’d let me go in with you, after all? I’ll stay in the back, honest! I don’t want to have to sit in the amobiler.”
“All right, I suppose you may come. Only put your shoes on. You won’t have to do any more tracking for the time being, and you’re bound to cut yourself on a shard of glass,” Juffin said. “Do you know whose house this is? This is where old Sir Gartom Xattel Min lives. About a hundred years ago, terrible stories went the rounds about the disorderliness of his home, until everyone finally grew bored with the topic. Sir Shurf, let the lady down. Then grab Max and get a move on! The three of us will follow you.”
Sir Shurf looked me up and down, and then picked me up with the gallantry of a professional stevedore.
“Shurf, I can walk!” I shouted. “Juffin didn’t mean it like that.”
“Is that true, Sir Juffin?” Lonli-Lokli asked politely.
“What? Oh, Sinning Magicians! You’re driving me out of my wits, boys! Of course I only meant for you to go in together. What kind of an outfit is this? Secret Investigative Force, terror of the universe, my foot! It’s a circus, that’s what it is!”
Lonli-Lokli and I finally entered the yard, and then the dark, dank-smelling hall of the enormous deserted building.
“How are we going to find this fellow, Shurf?” I asked in panic. “This house is as big as a town!”
“Yes, the house is rather sizable,” Lonli-Lokli agreed. “Don’t worry, Max. At this distance, even I’m able to pick up his scent. I have quite a bit of experience in this area: before Lady Melamori joined our force, we had to get along without a Master of Pursuit. It’s a very rare talent, and finding the right person for the job is difficult. Our previous Master of Pursuit, Sir Totoxatta Shlomm, met his end in a situation very much like this one. Only his adversary was much more formidable—he had acquired a glove like my own.”
I gave a low whistle.
“Sir Totoxatta was an unimpeachable Master of Pursuit, though not one distinguished by his caution. You know Max, it’s still very painful for me. We began working in the Secret Investigative Force on the same day, and we became fast friends—go left and sidestep this shard of glass, no boot could withstand a specimen like that— that’s why I warned Lady Melamori that all the Orders, even those that are not too powerful, have their dangerous little secrets. She was in serious danger. Get back! Quick!”
Lonli-Lokli’s white looxi flitted through the darkness like an eccentric ghost. His shining right hand, which brought not death, but petrifaction, illuminated a frightened elderly face for one split second. Then everything went dark again.
I inched closer and found myself staring at a wrinkled, swarthy old man in a tattered looxi. His body lay immobile on the floor in an unnatural pose. His hands were raised above his head, and his legs were bent at the knee. It could have been the pose of a toppled statue, but not of a living being, conscious or otherwise.
“Is this the Grand Magician?”
Lonli-Lokli shook his head.
“No, Max. This is the master of the house, Sir Gartom Xattel Min. See, he’s wearing the same kind