Макс Фрай - The Stranger

“Finally!” I said ecstatically, and reached into my pocket for the little parcel with cigarette butts that I still managed to salvage from the Chink between Worlds. In other words, from under my own pillow.

The teaching method of Sir Maba Kalox breaks down like this: many little treats, and no whip. All carrots, no stick. It works like a charm, every time. Tormented by the disgusting taste of the local tobacco, I spent days filching cigarettes from the inaccessible reaches of my own homeland, not bothering to struggle to understand how I was able to pull it off.

“I’ve been saving this problem for you from the start,” Juffin began. “Only it seemed to me that we’d need to wait several years, to give you time to get used to our World. But it turns out that you’re already used to it. There’s nothing to wait for.”

“I was just thinking about that myself,” I said, nodding. “It just occurred to me that Melifaro and I have known each other only half a year. And you brought him home only a few dozen days after I—”

“You can say that again,” Juffin said. “I myself can hardly believe the speed of your progress, even though I knew what a clever fellow I was dealing with. I should have been prepared. In any case, I’m certain you’ll manage with this, and now is just the right time. A short journey to the end of the world—that’s just what you need, wouldn’t you say?”

“Juffin, don’t hedge! You’ve whetted my curiosity to such a degree already that my head is spinning.”

“I’m not hedging. I’m just waiting for you to make yourself comfortable, light up a smoking stick, and perk up your ears. It’s a long story, Max, and very convoluted.”

“A hole in the heavens above you, sir! I adore long, convoluted stories.”

And Juffin began.

“There’s something going on in my home city of Kettari, Max.”

I gaped at him. I had anticipated any beginning to the story except this one, that’s for sure! Juffin smiled an understanding smile.

“Your knowledge of the geography of the Unified Kingdom is still rather superficial.”

“Please don’t spare my self-confidence, sir. I never take it with me when I leave home. I know nothing about your geography. It’s a fact.”

Juffin nodded and began unfolding a map. I stared at it, enchanted. Local cartography is its own branch of art. My chief tapped the neatly clipped nail of his narrow finger on a small, bright dot nestled in the west among finely delineated mountain peaks.

“That’s Kettari, Max. And Echo is here. See it?” His finger came to rest on the miniature depiction of a town in the lower part of the map. “Not too far, but not so very near, either. Do you know what this brightly colored circle means?”

I shook my head.

“It means that the main occupation of the city’s inhabitants is arts and crafts of various kinds. From time immemorial Kettari has been known for its carpets. Even when I was a boy they were inimitable, though there used to be many more fantastic things in the World than there are now. No one makes such fine rugs anywhere else. Naturally, the Capital is eager to do trade with Kettari: they like luxury here.”

“That enormous carpet the color of dark amber lying in your drawing room is from there. Am I right?”

“Right you are. How did you guess?”

“Because . . . because on the edges there is an embroidered inscription ‘Kettari Honey.’” I burst out laughing. Juffin did, too, of course.

“A vampire in your mouth, son! Are you going to listen or not?”

“Yes, yes.” I poured myself some more kamra and assumed an expression of intense concentration.

“Several dozen years ago in Echo it became customary to travel to Kettari in large caravans. It was quite convenient, so no one was surprised by the new practice. Even early on, I noticed that a native of Kettari always accompanied every caravan. I figured that if my countrymen wanted to earn a little money, what right did I have to prevent them? Of course, at first not everyone who wanted to go shopping was willing to go in a large group and pay for the services of a guide. There were a few curious incidents: for example, some of the blockheads from the Capital couldn’t find the road to Kettari. They returned home distraught and spread around some nonsense about Kettari being destroyed. That was no surprise, since idiots abound everywhere, and a person will invent all kinds of justifications for his stupidity. But all these stories convinced our merchants that a small fee for the Master Caravan Leaders, as my countrymen like to call themselves, is the lesser of evils. No one wants to lose time, to suffer setbacks, and to become a laughing stock, do they?”

“You say that grownup people with all their wits about them couldn’t find the road to your Kettari?” I asked, amazed. “Are the roads in the Unified Kingdom really so bad?”

“Good question, Max. A lot of people were amazed about this. How was it possible to get lost? The County Shimara is not the most outlying province, and Kettari is hardly what you might call the sticks. The caravan leaders claimed that most of the towns around Kettari were destroyed during the Troubled Times. Since life in these population centers depended solely on the needs of provincial Residences of the Orders around which they were built, there was no sense in reviving them.

“They mentioned that the roads had been destroyed, as well. That already seemed a bit strange. I never heard of anyone destroying roads, even during the Troubled Times. Why should it have happened now? There was a curious incident involving one of the Magicians of the Order of the Secret Grass—a close relative of our own Melifaro, by the way. When he was leaving the Capital, he anticipated that he would be pursued, and he caused the road along which they were traveling to veer up skyward. It must have been a strange spectacle—you’re traveling along a road and suddenly you realize you’re moving up into the clouds! I even proposed to Magician Nuflin that he leave everything that way; but in those days he wasn’t very compliant. They brought the road back to earth almost immediately; and that happened not in County Shimara, but right here outside of Echo. So I was very skeptical about the stories of ruined roads.

“Then I started thinking: if the local inhabitants are saying it, they must know what they’re talking about. And what difference does it make to me anyway? In short, the guides all believed it, and they believe it to this day. And why not? Our merchants return from Kettari loaded down with carpets. They also complain about the terrible condition of the roads. Kettarian carpets, by the way, become finer all the time, and the travelers are all unanimous in praising the beauties and riches of my native city. I don’t remember Kettari being a flourishing cultural center, although everything changes, and it’s a good thing when it’s for the better.”

“And you, Juffin, how long has it been since you were there?”

“A very long time. I seriously doubt whether I’ll ever go back. I have neither family nor friends in Kettari anymore, so I have neither ties of tenderness, nor obligation to this dot on the map, and I am not at all sentimental. In this I resemble you, by the way. But that’s not really why I don’t want to go there. I feel there’s some sort of inner ban on my returning there. I know that not only do I not need to go to Kettari—I shouldn’t. And my experiences witness to the fact that an inner ban is the only authentic kind. Are you familiar with that feeling, Max?”

I fiddled with the cigarette butt pensively.

“I think I know what you mean. A genuine inner ban is a thing of great power. Only I often can’t distinguish it from the other inner stuff: self-defeating, paranoid thoughts, superstitions, habits of mind.”