The Stranger - Max Frei [228]
“Four dozen days?” I moaned. “And what if we get back sooner? What will I do looking like that?”
“You will work, Max! What does it matter what kind of face is hiding under the Mantle of Death?” said Juffin with a shrug. “Just wait, you’ll end up liking it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will. I can just imagine how Melifaro’s going to enjoy this. He’ll laugh like he’s never laughed before.”
“Why are you so sure that anyone will laugh at you?” Juffin asked. “Is that another pleasant custom from your native land?”
I nodded. “Do you mean to say that in Echo things like that aren’t considered funny?”
“Sir Kofa just reminded you that he often dresses up like a woman. Have you ever heard anyone joke about it? Even Melifaro?”
“No.”
I was forced to admit that nothing of the sort had ever happened in my presence. Only the very unobservant weren’t amused now and then by Sir Kofa’s appetite, but they viewed his dressing up as something he did in the line of duty. Work is, simply, work. I had again been caught out, measuring other people’s looxis by my own yardstick.
“All right, take your clothes off,” Kofa commanded. “There are likely to be some problems with your figure, so let’s start with the most difficult thing. The face won’t need more than a minute.”
“Undress all the way?” I asked in confusion.
“Of course all the way,” Juffin said. “Haven’t you ever gone to the wiseman?”
“Almost never, praise be the Magicians! I’m afraid of them.”
“What is there to be afraid of?” Sir Kofa asked in surprise. “Wisemen help us get to know our own bodies. That’s why their manner is so kind and mild. It’s an absolute pleasure to deal with them!”
“Oh, you don’t know our wisemen. They’ll cut you into tiny pieces, and then figure that it’s easier to bury you than put you back together.”
“A hole in the heavens above you, Sir Max—what kind of place is it, your homeland?” Juffin shook his head in wonder as he had done so many times before. “All right, do as you’re told. And you, Kofa, lock the door, or an ill wind might blow someone else our way.”
“The World will see the severe working methods of the Secret Investigative Force and shudder,” I said under my breath, unwrapping my looxi.
I stood immobile in the center of the room for almost an hour, while Kofa diligently massaged the air around my body. He didn’t touch me; but the sensation was pleasant all the same.
“That should do it, Max. Think about how you want to be addressed, by the way. You’ll need a good woman’s name.”
I looked myself over warily. Everything was just as it was supposed to be—unchanged. My hips were no broader, my bust hadn’t blossomed.
“It’s not a real woman’s body,” Sir Kofa said, smiling. “It’s simply an illusion—but an excellent one! Get dressed and you’ll see what I mean. No, you can’t wear that!”
Confused, I laid my skaba back on the arm of the chair.
“Take a look at what I brought, over there on the table. They’re all the latest style. The fashion victims of the Capital will be green with envy.”
I dug around in the pile of multihued rags, pulled out a dark green skaba, and quickly put it on.
“Wow!”
It was the only thing I could say. The delicate fabric outlined the tender curves of some unfamiliar female body. Juffin looked at Kofa in delight.
“It’s perfect! Far better than I could have imagined. Well, keep going—such a sweet lady, with such an unbecoming stubble. It’s painful to look at. You could shave once in a while, Sir Max!”
“I did shave. Yesterday.” I rubbed my chin. “You call that stubble?”
“Never mind, Max. You won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Sir Kofa said, lathering some black muck on my bewildered face. “There we go! This stuff lasts even longer than you’ll need it to.”
“That’s the best news since the culinary amendments to the Code.