Макс Фрай - The Stranger

When I had fallen into a blissful stupor, I ordered some kamra and began to fill my pipe. On top of all the other misfortunes, my meager supply of cigarette butts had dried up. That’s how it always was with me: if it rains, it pours.

I smoked, and stared at my fellow patrons with the lively interest of an imbecile. One of them was about to leave. His hairdo was just like that of Captain Giatta, whose life I had inadvertently saved: a braid down to his belt and an ample beard. Was this fellow perhaps from the Old Maid ? Some ship’s cook adding to his stockpile of trade secrets? I scrutinized the stranger more carefully. He was just fishing around for his wallet in the mysterious depths of his flowing robe. Sinning Magicians! The dull gleam of mother-of-pearl: a belt. More precisely, the Belt! Another bewitched sailor. I’d have to do something.

Of course, I could simply have arrested the fellow. It was my duty to do so. But I understood very well the remarkable behavior of Captain Giatta. A bewitched man was quite capable of believing that he had to face death rather than surrender. So I decided just to follow him. My clothes, Praise be the Magicians, were completely unobtrusive. Why not do a little spying? A much better diversion than moaning over my broken heart. I tossed a crown down on the blood-spattered table. This was, of course, too much to pay for a few pieces of pie in a dive like this, but I felt very sympathetic toward the proprietor of the Vampire’s Dinner . The disheveled slyboots caught the gleam of shiny metal and his eyes lit up. I put a finger to my lips and slipped out the door. My bearded friend was just disappearing around the corner. I quickened my pace.

I didn’t recall having been in this part of Echo before, or perhaps it was just that at night it was hard to recognize. Anyway, I wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing. I didn’t take my eyes off the back of the stranger. Where was he taking me? I already envisioned how I would discover the hideout of a whole band of belted long-beards, and Juffin and I would swoop in and save them from their benighted existence. Actually, I wasn’t too eager to repeat my recent flirtation with someone else’s death. Never mind, we’d get out of it somehow.

Sinning Magicians, who would have thought! The bearded object of my undivided attention had led me not just anywhere, but into the very heart of the Quarter of Trysts. Bewitched or not, it seemed he still suffered from loneliness and wanted to try his luck. I smiled bitterly. Lady Melamori was kicking up her heels somewhere nearby, if she hadn’t reconsidered her vow to come here seeking oblivion from my repellent embrace. I couldn’t just let this smart fellow slip away, getting his happiness for a night! And jumping into bed with the happy couple was out of the question.

But life was wiser than I was. I didn’t have to find a way out of a ridiculous situation. The stranger stopped short and turned to me.

“You’re too late, mate,” he said in the same distinctive Tasherian drawl that Captain Giatta spoke with. “Do you know how many people there are all around us? If you take another step I’ll shout for help.”

Then it dawned on me. He thought I was trying to rob him. Of course, what else would a wealthy stranger think if he had been pursued by a suspicious character in a nondescript looxi for the last half hour?

“I’m no robber,” I said, with my most charming smile. “I’m much worse. There’s no stopping me. You came at it from the wrong end. I’m from the Secret Investigative Force of the Unified Kingdom. Are you in the mood for a walk to the House by the Bridge?”

I winked at the bearded chap. The stupid circumstances of my conversation with the suspect in the middle of the Quarter of Trysts suddenly filled me with a senseless buoyancy. I swiveled my hips suggestively and pursed my lips in a Cupid’s bow.

“Tonight, I am your fate. What’s your name, handsome?”

“Handsome” gasped for air. My unbridled approach seemed to have disarmed him. But the Tasherian’s voice remained firm.

“I can’t go with you, sir. I very much regret it, but I am forced to stand my ground.”

And the bearded one drew an enormous butcher knife from under his looxi—the kind of knife that is probably considered to be an ordinary dagger in distant Tashera.

“No one loves me,” I concluded. “Fine, let’s fight it out. All the more since I know your weak point, my friend. I’m not going to slice you up into pieces. I’ll just undo your wonderful belt and see what happens. Well, have you changed your mind? Give me your little toy.”

Recent events had made me absurdly reckless. I was even surprised at myself. I seemed to have decided I had nothing to lose. My opponent seemed to think likewise.

“It’s all the same to me,” the stranger said gloomily, grasping his instrument more deftly. “We’ll have to fight. I’m very sorry, sir.”

With a sudden movement of the hand, a silver bolt of lightning pierced my stomach. Rather, it should have pierced me—only I suddenly had no stomach for it to pierce.

To tell the truth, to this day I don’t understand what happened. I was behaving like a second-rate hero of a B movie, so I should have died right there, on the mosaic sidewalk of the Quarter of Trysts. Why didn’t it happen? It’s hard to say. I think that some of Juffin Hully’s lessons must have gotten through to me, though I’m still not sure he taught me anything of the sort.

The knife fell on the mosaic, and I tried to figure out what was happening. I wasn’t there. I just wasn’t. That’s all. I had disappeared somehow, gone “nowhere” and ceased to be “something”—for the space of a second. Then I appeared again. Just in time to step on the knife with my foot, as well as on the hand of the stunned would-be killer.

“Hi!” I said. “Now we’re going to undress. Or we’ll just go straight to the House by the Bridge. As you wish, darling. Take your pick. Today is your day.”

The bearded fellow jerked with such force that I almost flew head over heels, along with my tasteless jokes. It finally dawned on me that my chances for winning this contest of wills were very slim. The Mantle of Death and lots of good food had made a very benign fellow out of Max. An uneasy feeling of doom had crept up behind me and was about to leap out and put an end to my existence. I didn’t like it a bit.

I knew very well that I wouldn’t spit at the bearded chap. It would be cruel to kill him, not to mention foolish. Who knew what kinds of secrets the angry old salt was keeping inside him? On the other hand, how could I fight a strapping fellow like that? I had never been any good with my fists. Making a big noise, yes, but standing my ground in a fight to the death was not my cup of tea. Whatever Sir Juffin Hully said about the possible dire consequences of mixing two curses, I had to take the risk and do a bit of sorcery.

Praise be the Magicians, at least I knew how to do something . With a practiced gesture, I hid the long-beard between the thumb and the forefinger of my left hand.

Exhausted, I sat down on the pavement and hung my head between my knees. I should take this souvenir to Juffin, I thought gloomily. I’ll go presently. Let me just sit here a minute, then on to the House by the Bridge, blast it!

I felt stunned. It seemed as if an enormous heavy stone had settled on me, and I couldn’t move.

Then I felt a gentle hand come to rest on my shoulder.

“Has something happened, sir? We heard some noise. Perhaps you need some help?” asked an elegant, bright-haired lady in a richly adorned looxi.

Her broad-shouldered companion sat on his haunches and stared searchingly into my face. What could I tell them, these fine, upstanding young people?