Макс Фрай - The Stranger

“Excellent. On whom did you foist the belt during the present journey?”

“No one. This time Xropper came with me himself. He seemed to have realized that without his participation it wasn’t going to work. I did everything he told me to do, but . . . my single greatest success was the boy Apatti. He procured only a useless copy, though. After this fiasco Xropper fumed for a whole year, and then thought for another one. Finally we set out for Echo again, and he promised that it was our last voyage. After that he would set me free.”

“And you would conveniently be able to carry on your business, isn’t that right?” Juffin asked, narrowing his eyes. “Those belted lads make very good thieves, don’t they? They do everything you tell them to, and they never give away their boss. You liked that—admit it, Agon! How much wealth from the capital were you able to cart off to sunny Tashera?”

“I didn’t—”

“Hold your tongue, Agon! I’ve studied all the unsolved cases of apartment burglary that plague the conscience of our municipal police. The dates of these memorable events correspond fairly exactly to the dates when your Old Maid was anchored in our docks. Shall I go on?”

The bearded fellow stared at the floor in embarrassment. Sir Juffin smirked.

“I see that won’t be necessary. Now then, you tell me where your friend Xropper is. And if I can find him with your assistance, consider yourself lucky. You’ll pay your captain; I’ll send you away from the Unified Kingdom with no right of return—end of story! Your exploits don’t fall under my jurisdiction, after all. But if I don’t find him—well, I’ll just buckle this marvelous little trinket on you again, this amazing belt fashioned by Magician Xropper Moa himself. Are you feeling lucky, merchant?”

“I don’t know where Xropper is!” Mr. Agon stammered in panic. “He didn’t tell me anything!”

“Commendable precautions,” Juffin agreed affably. “It would be strange if he reported to you. But you still have one more chance. Imagine that I would be satisfied if you told me where he was yesterday. I ask for no more than that.”

“Yesterday . . . Yesterday, we met at the Golden Rams after dinner, but I don’t know—”

“It’s good that it was after dinner and not for it,” Juffin said, screwing up his face with disdain. “A vulgarly expensive dive with terrible food. Just the ticket for a rogue like Xropper! Fine, Sir Max. Pack up our guest. We’ll take him with us. He might come in handy.”

I stared at the chief in perplexity until it dawned on me what he wanted.

“Sure!”

With one deft movement, the merchant occupied his usual place between the thumb and the forefinger of my left hand. It began to seem that Mr. Agon and I would be together forever.

Melifaro peeked into the office.

“Everyone’s assembled, Juffin. You shouldn’t work so hard, Mr. Bad Dream. You don’t look yourself at all!”

“I’m longing for fresh horse manure,” I informed him gloomily. “They call it nostalgia.”

“Ah, well, why didn’t you say so? I thought you had just grown tired of killing people. It’s no surprise—Lonli-Lokli himself gets tired of it sometimes.”

“Any job grows wearisome,” I said didactically.

I left the Hall of Common Labor like I was jumping headfirst off a skyscraper: fast, determined, and with no regard for the consequences.

“Let’s go, boys,” Juffin’s voice rang out cheerily behind me. “Destination: the Golden Rams . Lady Melamori, remember: yours is the first move.”

“With pleasure,” Melamori nodded. She tried not to look at me, which was probably wise. “Attagirl! Way to go!” Sir Nulli Karif would no doubt have said.

“It’s a formidable adversary: Magician Xropper Moa. Heard of him?”

“Ah, from the Order of the Barking Fish? Formidable my foot!” Melamori twitched her shoulders haughtily.

“Certain Orders of Magic that had no pretensions to supremacy had very dangerous secrets,” said Sir Lonli-Lokli, shaking his head in disapproval. “You should keep this in mind, Lady Melamori, in the interests of your own safety. And the interests of the case, naturally.”

“Do you understand? Don’t put on airs,” Juffin said. “Let’s be off. Sir Max, get behind the levers. Your folly will serve us well now. Every minute counts. This is your one chance to bury the Minor Secret Investigative Force nearly in its entirety. What Kofa and Lookfi will do without us I find hard to imagine.”

“What do you mean? Sir Kofa will keep on eating, and Lookfi never notices anything anyway,” Melifaro snorted. “And no one will shed a tear over our mangled bodies.”

“I think a catastrophe like that would be a serious loss for the Unified Kingdom,” Lonli-Lokli said in an imposing voice.

Melifaro snickered with quiet mirth, but refrained from his usual guffaw.

“No time to bemoan your fate; here we arrive at our destination,” I said with a grin. “Some heroes you are! Jump out. Forward, march, Lady Melamori! Show all those Magicians from the Grunting Kitty-Cat what a pound of Boboota’s crap is worth in a bad harvest year!”

My outburst surprised even me. Juffin and Melifaro exchanged glances and exploded in laughter. Even the glum Melamori smiled. Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli looked at us like we were all unruly but beloved children, and got out of the amobiler.

Then the Master of Pursuit took off her elegant boots, entered the tavern, and circled through the large hall.

“He’s been here! Magicians are always easier to track down, Sir Juffin,” she shouted. “Here is his trail. He’s somewhere nearby, I swear by your nose!”

“Swear by your own, girl. I need mine.”

Sir Juffin Hully looked like a fisherman who had caught a twenty-pound trout.

Melamori left the tavern, then set off by herself, hot on the trail. We piled back into the amobiler to await her summons. After half an hour, I felt Juffin’s hand on my shoulder. He said:

“The Street of Forgotten Poets, Max. You know where it is?”

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it. Is there a street with such name?”

“No time to wonder—just press on the levers and let’s get going. Drive toward Jafax, it’s in that direction. It’s a small alleyway. I’ll show you where to turn.”

The Street of Forgotten Poets lived up to its name. It was so deserted that tufts of pale white grass grew between the intricate designs of the paving stones.

There was only one house on this street—but what a house! It was a veritable castle, surrounded by a high wall that still bore the indistinct traces of ancient inscriptions. Beside the gate, tapping her bare little foot impatiently, stood Melamori. She displayed a reckless, nervous joy that I found somewhat unsettling.

“He’s here,” the Master of Pursuit said through clenched teeth. “When he sensed me near, the little stinker first grew sad, and then started losing the remaining scraps of his pathetic mind. It’s too bad you made me wait for you, Juffin! I could have already been through with him. Well, I’m off. Follow me!”

“Not so fast!” Juffin barked. “Lonli-Lokli will go in first. That’s his job. It would be far better for you just to stay behind in the amobiler. Where is your praiseworthy caution, lady?”

“What do you mean, stay behind in the amobiler?” Melamori erupted in fury. “I’m the one who tracked him down. I should go in first.”

She spoke with a vituperative intensity I had never before witnessed in her. Even during our heated row the night before, the gleam in her eyes hadn’t filled me with such alarm.

What’s all the rush about, my dear? I wondered to myself. Then I understood.