The Stranger - Max Frei [237]
“Oh yes, much easier.”
We went into the living room. Melamori suddenly began laughing in relief.
“Sit down, Lady Marilyn. It’s wonderful you’ve come! I wanted very much to see you.”
“Female intuition,” I grinned slyly. “It’s a formidable power. By the way, it tells me that you have some kind of souvenir from Uncle Kima around somewhere. What better time than now to let the drink flow freely? I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”
“Forever?” her voice expressed genuine anguish.
“Forever? Don’t get your hopes up. For a few dozen days in all.”
“Where?”
“To Kettari. Our chief succumbed to an attack of nostalgia and ordered us to dig up some cobblestones from the streets of his youth. Open your cache, sweetheart. When I have too much to drink, it will loosen my tongue and I’ll tell all. Honest I will.”
“Would you like to drink Gulp of Fate, Marilyn?” Melamori asked. I shuddered from the unexpectedness of it.
“Gulp of Fate? Hmm, it seems we’ve already tried that before.”
“I wonder where you could have tried that wine, Marilyn,” Melamori parried, as calm as ever. “It’s very rare.”
“It certainly is rare,” I laughed, feeling with surprise how the last heavy stone dropped from my heart. “Of course I’d like a drink. Who am I to refuse Gulp of Fate?”
“Wonderful.”
The ancient wine turned out to be dark, almost black, in color. Some hardly visible blue sparks played at the bottom of the glass.
“It’s a good sign, Marilyn,” Melamori said, tapping the edge of the glass with her finger. “Kima told me that these little flames appear only if the wine is being drunk by people who . . . how can I explain it. People between whom everything is right. Understand? Not ‘good,’ and not ‘bad,’ but right.”
“I think I do understand. Only I have another way of saying it: for real. Am I expressing myself properly?”
“If there’s one thing you and Max really know how to do, Marilyn, it’s express yourself ‘properly.’ Taste good?”
“You bet!”
“Then tell me your story. I can take an oath of silence if you wish.”
“I need no oath from you, Melamori. Just watch and listen. Lady Marilyn and I are real storytellers.”
And I narrated in great detail the story of the strange costume ball, with me starring as the beauty queen. Melifaro the lover was the hero of the finale.
“My goodness! I’ve never laughed so hard in my life!” Melamori said, wiping away tears. “Poor Melifaro. He has no luck with girls. You should have given him a chance, Marilyn. Where will you find another boy like him?”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ll take your advice into consideration. Look, it’s already getting light! Will you have time to get some sleep?”
“Oh, I’ll just be late for work. No big deal. I’ll tell Sir Juffin that I was giving you lessons in feminine wiles.”
“Yes, those will come in handy, considering who my future life companion is supposed to be.” I struggled to get up from the low divan. “I’m going to go get some sleep, Melamori. It’s time you did, too. Better too little than none at all.”
“It doesn’t matter how much, but how you sleep . . . And today I’ll sleep like the dead. Thank you, Marilyn. Please tell Sir Max that it was an excellent idea.”
“I’ll tell him,” I yawned and waved to her. “Good morning, Melamori.”
I’d like to note that Marilyn also slept like the dead, which hadn’t been the case for a long time with my good old friend Max. This girl had a first-rate heart of stone, much more reliable than mine.
At sundown I reported to the House by the Bridge. I had a suitcase with me that accommodated a large bottle of Elixir of Kaxar, masses of clothes (Lady Marilyn enjoyed shopping), and my enchanted pillow—“Stopgap in the Chink between Worlds,” in the words of my greatest benefactor, Sir Maba Kalox. Whatever might happen, setting out for the unknown without my one and only miracle-method for getting a normal