The Stranger - Max Frei [262]
I sipped the Elixir of Kaxar. My spirits perked up, and I started to look around. I’d been wanting a cigarette for a long time. I just needed to find out whether it was permitted.
The hall was almost empty. Apart from me there was only one other customer who sat by the window with a view onto a curious fountain with colored streams that didn’t simply fall downward, but twisted in intricate spirals. I tried but was unable to make out the face of the stranger. I could only see his back, hunched over a board game. By a leap of the imagination it could have been considered a local variant of chess. The figures were more or less similar, but the board was divided into triangles and painted three different colors.
This fellow seemed to be so engrossed in his intellectual conundrums that not only would it have been possible to smoke a cigarette from another world in his presence, but one could have organized an entire striptease without him noticing. So I lit up without further ado. Lonli-Lokli was totally living it up in this grand city of Kettari—did I deserve any worse?
Wind Kisses turned out to be tiny patties made of tender fowl. After I finished, I drank the rest of my divine Elixir and placed my souvenirs on the table. Again I studied all eleven versions of the map of Kettari. Now I had another surprise: High Street, Fisheye Street, and the Down Home Diner were there on all eleven maps. This coincidence astonished me even more than the numerous inconsistencies I had found earlier. Not trusting overmuch my own powers of perception, I again pored over the tiny letters on the map. Maybe everything on the map had been just as it should be from the start—only my senses had been confused by the jumble of new impressions. But no, the discrepancies I had found were still there.
I sighed. I would just have to wait patiently for the errant Lonli-Lokli to return so I could dump this problem on his strong shoulders—assuming, of course, I’d be able to find the road home. What if, indeed, Old Riverbank Street wasn’t where it was supposed to be?
“Don’t fret so, Sir Max. That’s all neither here nor there. By the way, you’ve hardly collected all the variants.”
I stared silently at this suddenly chatty gentleman. Did he say “Sir Max” to me? No, I must have misheard. I couldn’t possibly have heard correctly! My Lady Marilyn was a perfectly executed illusion, a masterpiece of Sir Kofa Yox’s artistry, the pride of both of us.
The chess player smiled slyly under his reddish mustache, stood up, and came toward me. He had a marvelously light gait, and a very unremarkable face that I already couldn’t commit to memory—but that gait I’d no doubt still remember in another thousand years!
“The name’s Mackie Ainti,” he said softly, sitting down in a chair near mine. “Sir Mackie Ainti, the old sheriff of Kettari.”
I nodded in silence. My heart was thumping against my ribcage, trying to escape so it could fetch the suitcases and get out of town as soon as possible. The arm of the chair creaked loudly under the convulsive grip of my fingers.
“There’s no cause for alarm,” Sir Mackie Ainti said, and smiled a slow smile. “You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve waited for this moment, even if I told you myself!”
“A long time?” I asked faintly.
“Yes. Quite a while. I’m awfully glad to see you! You can’t imagine just how glad I am!”
“Glad?”
I was completely at a loss. Couldn’t wait to see me? How