The Stranger - Max Frei [55]
I invited Sir Lookfi for a mug of kamra in my office. He seemed pleased and shy at the same time. He sent a call to his wife, after which he said:
“Varisha has agreed to miss me for another hour. Thank you, Sir Max! I apologize that I didn’t accept your invitation immediately. You see, we’re newlyweds and . . .” Embarrassed, the poor fellow got tangled up in the folds of his own looxi. I had to catch him so he wouldn’t fall.
“Don’t apologize,” I said, smiling. “You did just the right thing, my friend.”
Once I was back in the office, I called for the courier, who darted in seconds later and looked into my eyes with fawning devotion. I could just see it, the title of a horror movie: Max, Devourer of Underlings. Quite a nice ring to it, I thought!
Lookfi sipped his kamra with evident enjoyment, all the while soaking the intricately-patterned hem of his looxi in his cup. I didn’t waste any time, and started asking him about the buriwoks. I had already heard Kurush’s take on things, and now I wanted to hear the opinion of one of the other parties involved.
“I was offered this job by the buriwoks themselves,” said Sir Lookfi. “I don’t know why they chose me, but one day, a long time ago—a long long time ago—a courier came to my house and brought me an invitation from the House by the Bridge. The birds said that they would find my presence most suitable. They rejected the other candidates out of hand—even the cousin of the King’s Advisor. Do you know why, Kurush?”
“I’ve told you many times—because you can tell us apart.”
“Kurush, you’re just as much of a joker as Sir Juffin! Who in the world wouldn’t be able to tell you apart?”
“I would probably have a hard time telling one buriwok from another,” I confessed in perplexity.
“There you have it. I’ve been telling him the same thing over and over for more than a hundred years, and he still doesn’t believe me,” Kurush grumbled. “Although, it’s true, his memory isn’t too bad; for a human, of course.”
“I suppose I do have a good memory,” said Lookfi. “Yet all my life I thought others were forgetful and I was only average.”
“He remembers how many feathers each of us has,” Kurush told me confidingly.
“No kidding!” I whistled. “If that was the one and only thing you remembered, Lookfi, I would still be a dimwit compared to you.”
“Don’t say that, Sir Max,” said Lookfi. “You’re not a dimwit at all; you’re just a bit absent-minded.”
Sinning Magicians, I thought, look who’s talking!
Finally, Lookfi took his leave, and Kurush and I were left alone together. I think the buriwok had fallen asleep. I found some newspapers on Juffin’s desk; some fresh, and others less recent. It’s good to be new in someone else’s world: the evening papers are as enthralling as a fantasy novel. The only difference is that you can open the door at any moment you please and go for a walk in this imaginary world.
Sir Kofa Yox arrived again before dawn. He grumpily informed me that there was no news and that none was expected: four more house robberies for the valiant police force to deal with. So boring! That was why he was turning in for the night. I nodded sympathetically, sighed, and became absorbed once more in a copy of the Echo Hustle and Bustle dating back to the previous year.
Sir Juffin Hully showed up for work rather early, demanded some kamra, and then stared at me thoughtfully.
“No news yet, Max. I mean no real news, at any rate. But I do have one idea. This is what it comes down to. My house is always open to you, you know