Макс Фрай - The Stranger

Kurush was delighted, and he started right in on them. I changed into the Mantle of Death and went to look at myself in the mirror. What a bizarre sight! My own features could already be made out under the unattractive false face. I had two distinct faces, one showing through the other. I shuddered and went downstairs to wash up. On the way back I glanced in the mirror again. Finally! There was my trusty old mug looking back at me. I wanted to cry with relief. I was, after all, quite a guy. It’s a matter of taste, of course, but it was a face that agreed with me.

I went back to the office. Kurush had just finished the fourth pastry, but his enthusiasm was flagging. I looked at the bird enviously, and—well, I ended up eating five whole pastries myself! I really had worked up an appetite already. That River Rat Bone Marrow was a devil of a concoction. Wonder of wonders, I felt I hadn’t eaten in days.

At home I dreamed of Melamori again. The invisible wall dividing us disappeared all at once, and she sat down next to me. She was amused by my immobility. Not only was she amused, but it made her very brave. I was showered with kisses, such real ones that it almost made me start thinking that . . . But my poor brain didn’t want to think at all, and then she disappeared. And I woke up.

Melamori always disappeared from my dreams at about the same time, just after dawn—the time people wake up to go to work. But I tried not to pay attention to this coincidence. Once I get hold of something, I’ll hold onto it for dear life, even if it’s only a dream, and in my case, especially if it is a dream.

Not long before noon I dozed off again to the deep, guttural purrs of my cats. Almost immediately, I got a call from Sir Kofa.

Enough lounging around, Max. Something very interesting is happening here, so—

Time to eat again? I asked, horrified.

No, time to work. Remember those clowns with the belts?

And how I do! Oh, Kofa, do I have an hour, at least? To wash.

What a squeaky clean rascal you are! Fine, go hose yourself down. But we’ll be expecting you in an hour.

I jumped out of bed. Armstrong was so deep in sleep he didn’t twitch an ear. Ella woke up with a diminutive feline roar and rushed down to her bowl. After feeding the cats and bathing, it turned out that I had no time to replenish my tobacco supply with my pillow prestidigitation. It’s a good thing I hoard things like a squirrel: I had hidden away several cigarette stubs for a rainy day. Like today.

The Hall of Common Labor was swarming with chefs again. I gave Melifaro a sympathetic nod, and continued through to our office. An unrecognizable Sir Kofa Yox (curly haired, ruddy faced, large eyes) was whispering to Juffin. When he saw me he fell silent.

“Secrets?” I inquired. “Dreadful ones? Or not very?”

“Somewhere in between,” Juffin said. “How’s your stomach, hero? Are the city toilets running over after your busy night?”

“Are you trying to compensate for the absence of General Boboota? That’s not your forte, Juffin. Moreover, Boboota’s irreplaceable.”

“Well, just take a little walk to the morgue and back. It’s bound to be an instructive excursion. We’ll just finish up our secret-swapping session while you’re gone—and don’t let your nose get out of joint. In fact, these are secrets of Grand Magician Nuflin. Not very exciting.”

I dutifully set out for the morgue, which was located on the premises of the Echo City Police. Sinning Magicians, I sure hadn’t expect everything be this simple! There lay the fellow we had seen yesterday in the elegant yellow looxi. Only now his belt was gone. Was it murder with the intent to rob? Not the most popular kind of crime in Echo. I twirled my magic dagger in my fingers. The gauge didn’t budge. No Forbidden Magic around here. But if Juffin wanted me to see it, there must have been some foul magic involved. What kind, though? For one thing, there was no blood nor any trace of violence. Had he been poisoned? No. If this were just about “murder with the intent to rob,” Juffin wouldn’t have been summoned in the first place

I looked at the dead man one more time. There was something about him . . . something very obvious that still eluded my grasp.

I went back to the office without having figured it out. Preoccupied with heavy thoughts, I bumped right into Shixola, the former lieutenant of the City Police. After the remarkable rescue of Boboota, Shixola had been promoted to captain, which (unlike most of his colleagues) he richly deserved.

The fellow reeled, but stood his ground.

“Did you come to admire our discovery, sir?” asked the unfortunate victim of my absentmindedness, rubbing his bruised chin.

“Yes. There’s something not quite right about your discovery,” I said and looked at Shixola thoughtfully.

“I agree. There must be. First Sir Kofa came by, then Sir Venerable Head himself graced us with his presence, and now you arrive. This ragamuffin is really running you ragged.”

“Ragamuffin . . . ?”

The expensive yellow looxi and the fancy boots of the dead man seemed very much at odds with that description. Then it dawned on me. Underneath this expensive looxi the man was wearing the old, tattered skaba I had glimpsed yesterday. It looked as though the fellow hadn’t changed it for years. This glaring contrast seemed significant.

“Yes, a ragamuffin, of course!” I shouted enthusiastically, and rushed off, leaving Captain Shixola bewildered and alone.

“Well, what do you say?”

Juffin smiled broadly, as though getting the chance to look at the corpse had been a birthday present, perhaps the best I had ever received.

“Nothing much to say. The fellow’s not dressed too well. I’ll be honest with you, it took a while for me to realize it. It looks like he hadn’t changed his clothes in years. By the way, who took his belt away from him? The killer, or you?”

“Whoever did, it wasn’t us, unfortunately.”

“How did he die? I didn’t see any wounds. Was he poisoned?”

“Possibly. It’s not clear. You have something to add?”

“No, nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Well, my heart lurched unpleasantly. That happened yesterday, already, when Kofa and I saw him in the Irrashi Inn . There was nothing more concrete than that.”

“I’m not interested in anything ‘concrete.’ What really intrigues me are the messages your darn-fool heart sends out. If you had a few hearts to spare, I’d pass them out to our boys instead of those good-for-nothing gauges. Every time something halfway interesting happens, they stick at zero and refuse to budge. It’s ridiculous! Imagine, Kofa and I didn’t sense that anything at all was amiss. Your new friend sure did, though.”

“Who’s my new friend? Shixola?”

“What a short memory you have,” said the chief and grinned. “Grand Magician Nuflin Moni Mak was kind enough to send me a call an hour ago. He says it’s urgent that we get to the bottom of this case. He has a terrible foreboding, and no clues whatsoever. Are you related to him, by any chance?”

“You should know,” I said, heaving a sigh. “You’re the one and only expert on my genealogy. Give me some kamra, Juffin. First I don’t get enough sleep, then I have to gaze on a corpse . . . life just all-round sucks.”

“What, the trick with the pillow didn’t work?” Juffin laughed out loud. “Well, win some, lose some. And make your own kamra. Why did I waste my time teaching you? And don’t grind your teeth like that, Sir Max. Kofa hasn’t tasted your culinary invention yet. Please.”

“You can’t fight the magic word,” I muttered, mollified. “What a despot you are, Sir Juffin.”