The Stranger - Max Frei [45]
“About seventy or eighty years. Why do you ask?”
“You die so young? Every one of you?”
“But you see, we’re old by that time.”
“How old are you, Max?”
“Thirty . . . at least, I will be soon. Perhaps I already am. When is my birthday? I’ve lost count since I came here.”
Sir Juffin became seriously alarmed.
“Still a child! Oh dear! I hope you’re not going to die prematurely in forty or fifty years time. Now, let me take a good look at you.”
Juffin jumped out of his chair. A second later he was poking my back with his hands, which suddenly became ice-cold and heavy. Then his hands grew hot, and I felt that my mind, which always used to occupy a place somewhere behind my eyes, was shifting, moving down my spine. I could “see” the warm radiance of his coarse palms with my . . . back! Then it ended, just as unexpectedly as it had begun. Sir Juffin returned to his place, thoroughly satisfied with the results of his examination.
“It’s all right, boy. You’re no different from me, though you may find it hard to believe. That must mean that it isn’t your nature, but your lifestyle that determines your life expectancy. Here in the World you can live for well over three hundred years—as long as no one kills you, that is. You had me frightened for a moment there, Sir Max! What kind of place is your homeland anyway? What sort of hellhole did I pull you out of?”
“The World of the Dead, apparently,” I said with a rueful laugh. “Your city’s taletellers had it almost right. But it’s not all that bad. When you’ve known only one world since childhood, it’s inevitable that it all seems natural. When I left home, I didn’t regret a thing. I doubt, though, that you’ll find many like me. I don’t count, anyway, because I was always a dreamer. I suppose I really was a classic loser. Most people would tell you that nothing good could come of dreaming. The life expectancy you have here, on the other hand, could get a lot of folks to switch sides. If you plan to recruit more of my people, keep that in mind.”
“As if I needed your countrymen.”
“What if another guy makes a habit of seeing you in his dreams?”
“Well, then we’d have to find another vacancy for him. Okay, okay; you’re right. I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”
Alas, all things have the idiotic habit of ending at some point. Sir Juffin went to bed and I began to get ready to move.
I was sure that I had almost nothing to pack. Boy was I wrong! My earthly riches consisted of a catastrophically overgrown wardrobe and library. There were also Juffin’s gifts and the fruits of my walks about the city, when I had visited all kinds of shops, frittering away the advance I’d received on my salary. As for the library, it included the Encyclopedia of the World by Manga Melifaro, kindly given to me by his youngest son. That unwieldy eight-volume set was but a drop in the ocean of my possessions.
Along with all the rest, I packed the outfit I had been wearing on the day I first arrived in Echo. It was highly unlikely that I would ever again need to wear that pair of jeans and a sweater, but I couldn’t just throw them out, either. Perhaps I’d get a chance to go home for a visit, if only to pick up some cigarettes. Who knows?
Trips between my bedroom and my new amobiler parked by the gate outside took almost an hour. But even this work was finished eventually. I drove home with my heart beating happily and my head a complete void. “Home.” How strange the word sounded to me!
I crossed over the Echo Crest Bridge, full of the inviting lights of shops and bars, still doing a lively trade even at this late hour. Here in Echo people really get the meaning of night life. Maybe that’s because even permitted magic allows you to carouse for a night or two without seriously harming your health.
Across the bridge I found myself on the Right Bank. Now my path led straight to the heart of the Old City. I preferred to dwell in its narrow alleyways rather than the wide streets of the New City, Echo’s wealthy downtown.
The mosaic sidewalks of the Street of Old Coins had lost almost all of their