Макс Фрай - The Stranger

“But—”

I was completely bewildered. My mind was such a mess I should have just shut up.

“Let’s not talk about this, all right Max? Tomorrow is still a long way away, and . . . they say destiny is wiser than we are.”

“We won’t if you don’t want to. But I think all this sounds like primitive malarky. We can decide for ourselves what to do. Why do we need all those silly traditions? If you wish, we can just walk around today as though nothing happened. No one will tell anyone anything, and then—”

“I don’t want to, and it’s impossible,” Melamori sighed, smiling, and covered my mouth gently with her ice-cold hand. “I’m telling you, enough about that, all right?”

We continued on our way in silence. The Street of Old Coins was quite close already. Another few minutes, and we entered my dark living room. Ella and Armstrong began meowing pitifully. Day or night, in female company or all alone, as soon as I walk in the door they demand food! I was distracted for a moment by the feline distress signals. Melamori examined the cats with astonishment.

“So those are the parents of the future Royal Cats? Where did you get them, Max?”

“What do you mean? They were sent from Melifaro’s estate, didn’t you know?”

“Why does the whole Court consider them to be an unknown breed, then?”

“Magicians only know. I just started taking care of them. It seems never to have occurred to them that cats need to be groomed. Melamori, are you sure everything’s all right? More than anything on earth I hate coercion.”

“I already told you. Nothing depends on us, Max. It’s out of our hands. What’s happened has happened. The only thing we can do now is waste even more time than we have already.”

“All right. I won’t argue with you. For now,” I said, and put my arms around her. “I’m not going to waste any more time, either.”

“Just try not to let your arrestee escape. The one thing I’m not planning on doing tonight is chasing him all over the house.”

Melamori smiled a sad, ironic smile. I tried to imagine our pursuit, and laughed so hard I almost fell down the stairs, taking Melamori with me. Melamori struggled with her imagination for a second and then started giggling, too. Perhaps we weren’t behaving too romantically, but that was just what we needed. Laughter spices up the passions much better than the languid seriousness of lovers clinging to one another in melodramas. And I hate melodramas.

Of course, the thing that kept nagging at me was that crazy talk about “the last time,” which Melamori had started and ended so abruptly on our way to my place. They say that the anticipation of parting heightens pleasure. I’m not too sure about that. I think that night might have been perfect if it hadn’t been for the thought that morning would soon arrive, and I would have to wage a hopeless struggle against the prejudices and superstitions of my newly acquired treasure. These thoughts did not enhance my desperate attempts to be happy.

“How strange,” Melamori said. “I was so afraid of you, Max. But now I find that it’s all so peaceful and easy to be with you. So peaceful and easy . . . As though it was all I had ever needed my whole life. How stupid it all is.”

“What are you calling stupid?” I smiled. “I hope you aren’t referring to what just happened.”

“Well,” said Melamori, laughing. “That wouldn’t be the right word for it. It’s not exactly an intellectual activity.”

Now we were both laughing. Suddenly, Melamori broke out in a wail I wouldn’t have been able to imagine possible. I was so upset that it took me a whole minute to think of a way to calm her down. Some “thinker” I am!

The dawn that I had been dreading the whole night nevertheless crept up in the heavens at the appointed hour. Melamori dozed on my embroidered pillow, smiling in her sleep.

At that moment, I became absolutely certain of what I must do. The plan of action, a very simple but effective one, was as clear as the morning sky. I simply wouldn’t let her go. I’d let her sleep, and when she woke up I would sit beside her. I’d throw my arms around her. She would start to squeal and try to break free, and would spew all kinds of nonsense about traditions, and I would silently hear her out and wait as long as necessary for her to be quiet. Then I’d say to her, “Sweetheart, while you were asleep I came to an understanding with destiny. It won’t object if we stay together a little bit longer.” And if Lady Melamori still protested, I just wouldn’t listen.

I finally started feeling a bit better, and I even felt sleepy, but I couldn’t afford to take any chances. I took a hearty swig of Elixir of Kaxar. My drowsiness evaporated, muttering an apology. There remained one problem to take care of: I really wanted to use the toilet. I didn’t want to leave my outpost, but my upbringing wouldn’t allow me to wet the bed.

A half hour later I realized that there were a few things a person couldn’t postpone indefinitely, and I looked attentively at Melamori. She was sleeping, there could be no doubt about it. I left the room on tiptoe, and shot downstairs like a speeding bullet. The trip didn’t take too much time. When I got back up to the living room, my heart suddenly cried out, wrenched with pain: “That’s the end of that, boy!”

Completely dejected, I slumped down on the step and heard the outside door slam followed by the clacking of my own amobiler. I realized it was all over. This was truly the end.

I wanted to send a call to Melamori, but I knew it wouldn’t help. Nothing would. The destiny that I had reached an understanding with thumbed its nose at me.

After I had somehow mastered my emotions, I bathed, got dressed, and went to work. After all, the bearded arrestee, who might have been considered quite an effective love potion, was still balled up in my fist. The fact that this bizarre talisman hadn’t brought me luck was another matter altogether.

The amobiler wasn’t in front of the door, of course. I wondered whether stealing the personal property of a lover from the Quarter of Trysts was also a hallowed tradition.

I had to go to the House by the Bridge on foot. Every stone on the pavement screamed out my loss. “A few hours ago you were passing us together,” the ancient, one-story houses on the Street of Old Coins reproached me heartlessly. I felt absolutely forlorn. Then I did the only thing that promised to bring me any relief: I sent a call to Sir Juffin Hully. I’m on my way, Juffin. I’m bringing a present. In the meantime, how are things?

They almost did you in last night, didn’t they? the chief inquired.

Yes. Last night, and then again this morning—in a manner of speaking. Not more than fifteen minutes ago. But that’s beside the point right now. Talk to me, Juffin. Just tell me how the case of the belts is going, all right?

Silent Speech, as always, required my full concentration, so I couldn’t think about anything else when I was using it. And that was just what I needed.

Of course. When have I ever refused to save time? Listen carefully. First, Melifaro was able to identify the victim yesterday. He was a young man named Apatti Xlen. Ah yes, this name doesn’t say anything to you. It was a celebrated case, Max. It happened about two years ago, in the Moni Mak family home. Yes, Max, it was Sir Ikas Moni Mak, grand nephew of Magician Nuflin himself. He had received a visit from some old friends of his wife, the Xlens, who had settled on their estate in Uruland during the Troubled Times. When it was time for young Apatti to decide what to do with his insignificant life, they sent him to the capital, where the boy lived for half a year in the home of Moni Mak. I think he was going to school. Then he disappeared, taking with him the White Seven-Leaf Clover. We know for certain that not long before this Apatti had bought an elegant, gleaming belt in one of the harbor shops. Sir Ikas remembered this object, so there can be no doubt—