The Stranger - Max Frei [240]
Juffin handed me his famous invisible bottle of Elixir of Kaxar, almost empty due to my efforts. I gladly took a gulp of the tasty drink, capable of relieving not only morning somnolence, but almost any other serious complaint.
“Have some, dear. There’s a bit left,” I offered the bottle to Lonli-Lokli.
My “significant other” declined politely, saying, “Thank you, Marilyn. But I don’t drink.”
“As you wish. We have a whole day of travel ahead of us.”
“There are special breathing exercises that dispel exhaustion far more effectively than your drink,” Lonli-Lokli said loftily.
“Will you teach them to me?” I asked.
“I’ll teach you, but only after you master the exercises I’ve already shown you.”
“But I already—”
“You just think you ‘already.’ Forty years from now you’ll understand what I mean.”
“Oh! As the Great Magician Nuflin likes to say, ‘I’m just glad I won’t live to see the day.’ Fine, let’s be off, honey.”
“Yes. Get a move on,” Juffin nodded. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk. The road is long. And don’t forget to bring me a souvenir from my homeland.”
Sir Lonli-Lokli eased in confidently behind the levers of the amobiler.
“Maybe we should change places?” I suggested.
“You want to drive the amobiler right after you’ve imbibed Elixir of Kaxar? No, you may not do that. I’ve told you that before. When we’re on the road you’ll have to relieve me sometimes, Marilyn. But are you sure you can drive like normal people do? If our amobiler keeps overtaking all the others, we’ll end up without a Master Caravan Leader. Not to mention shocking our fellow travelers.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Unlike our friend Max, Lady Marilyn is a careful damsel. Everything will be fine. I’ll step on the throat of any song.”
“What’s that, some secret spell?” Lonli-Lokli asked quaintly.
“Yep. I could teach you, but it would take forty or fifty years,” Lady Marilyn’s tongue was as sharp as that of my old friend Sir Max.
Actually, a few seconds later I decided that the joke might lead to unpredictable consequences, and I turned guiltily to my companion.
“Just between us guys, Glamma, it was a joke. It’s just a harmless expression.”
“That’s what I thought. But you’re not a guy, Marilyn. I’d advise you to watch your language.”
“Yes, my dear. You’re absolutely right.”
I began to suspect that a journey in the company of Lonli-Lokli would do more to hone my character than the severest pedagogical system of ancient Sparta.
My spirits finally lifted when I caught sight of at least a dozen amobilers accompanied by group of people in elegant traveling attire. When I was a child, I had always loved going to railroad stations to watch trains. It seemed to me they were going somewhere where everything was different from where I was. They were on their way There, and I envied the passengers as they wearily arranged their baggage in the overhead luggage racks. You could see the enchanting spectacle through the illuminated windows of the train while you stood on the platform. I preferred not to pay too much attention to the trains coming from There to the dreary Here.
Now I had the same feeling, only much stronger. Not a vague dream about a nonexistent wonder, but a near certainty about it. I even temporarily forgot that Echo was not at all the kind of place I wanted to leave. Comfortably wrapped in the elegant body of Lady Marilyn, I dove into the small human maelstrom, Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli following close behind.
In a few minutes, Lady Marilyn and her solicitous companion by the name of Glamma had already made the acquaintance of Abora Vala, Master of the Caravan—a short, gray-haired, but not at all old Kettarian, extremely