Макс Фрай - The Stranger

“We people are strange creatures,” I mused. “You never know beforehand what we’re going to do.”

“Indeed, Marilyn,” Sir Shurf said solemnly.

We continued on our way. Lonli-Lokli drove the amobiler, so I had an excellent opportunity to gaze about, savoring the foretaste of mystery.

The road was as predictable as a road can be when you’re seeing it for the first time. After an hour and a half I grew bored, and my vigilance tried to go into early retirement. Just then, the caravan turned off the main road onto a narrow path whose usefulness as a thoroughfare looked extremely doubtful.

Several minutes of merciless rattling and rolling and we turned again. The new road was fairly tolerable, looping a bit through the foothills. Then it suddenly soared upward at a dizzying angle.

To the right of the road loomed a cliff, overgrown with dusty bluish grass. On the left yawned the emptiness of an abyss. At that moment I wouldn’t have agreed to relieve Lonli-Lokli at the levers of the amobiler for all the wonders of the World I had a mortal fear of heights.

Struggling to reign in my panic, I recalled the breathing exercises and started in on them with a vengeance. Sir Shurf glanced over at me in concern, but didn’t speak. In a half hour my torments were over. Now the road was winding between two identically towering cliffs, which seemed to me to offer some guarantee of safety.

“I just sent a call to Mr. Vala. He claims that Kettari is still about two hours away,” said Lonli-Lokli.

“He said the same thing after lunch,” I grumbled.

“Well, nothing to get too alarmed about. But it does seem a bit strange, doesn’t it?”

“A bit? I’d say it’s very strange. As far as I understand it, the fellow makes this journey several times a year. This must have given him enough time to get to know the road.”

“That’s what I would have thought.”

“‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’” I said with a wry smile. “Maybe that motto is emblazoned on the Kettarian coat-of-arms. Looking at Juffin you’d never think so, but—actually, let me send him a call. There’s nothing much to praise, so we might as well grouse to a dyed-in-the-wool Kettarian.”

And I sent Sir Juffin Hully a call. To my great surprise, I didn’t get the slightest response. It was just like the days when I was a bumbling novice in the World and about as competent in Silent Speech as a lazy first-grader at his multiplication tables. I shook my head vigorously and tried again. After the sixth attempt I finally became alarmed and sent a call to Lonli-Lokli, simply to convince myself that I was capable of doing it at all.

Do you hear me, Shurf? Glamma? Whatever your name is?

“Are you enjoying yourself, Marilyn? It would be better if you—”

“I can’t contact Juffin!” I exclaimed out loud. “Can you imagine?”

“No, I certainly can’t. I hope this isn’t another joke.”

“As though I don’t have anything better to do than joke around! Try it yourself. It just isn’t working for me.”

“Fine. Take the levers. I have to sort this out—things like this can’t happen for no reason.”

A yawning emptiness like an ironic grin now appeared in the terrain to our right. It wasn’t terribly close if you tried to look directly at it, but terrifying all the same. I tried to control my fear, and gripped the levers. To admit to Sir Lonli-Lokli that I was afraid of heights—no, better we both plunge to our deaths.

My companion was silent for about ten minutes. I waited patiently. Maybe he’s talking to Juffin, I thought. Of course—he must be talking to Juffin. There’s a lot to tell him and Lonli-Lokli’s always very thorough. Everything is fine. Something is just wrong with me, and there’s nothing unusual about that.

“Silence,” Lonli-Lokli announced finally. “I’ve tried contacting Sir Juffin. And there is no answer from my wife, Sir Kofa Yox, Melifaro, Melamori, and Police Captain Shixola, either. And at the same time, it’s no problem for us to communicate with our Master Caravan Leader. By the way, he still claims that Kettari is about two hours away. I think I ought to continue trying to get in touch with someone in Echo. Allow me to remark that this is one of the strangest incidents of my entire life.”

“Oh devil’s thumbs!” was all I could spit out.

Lonli-Lokli didn’t pay the least bit of attention to this exotic curse—a good thing, as the last thing I wanted to do at this point was to try to explain who in the devil the devil was.

A few more anguished minutes, and I had already forgotten about the abyss to the right of the road. Apparently, my fear of heights was something akin to a bad habit, and getting rid of it was a piece of cake. All it took was concentrating on a problem that was much more serious.

“I tried a few more people. Everyone was silent except for Sir Lookfi Pence, who answered immediately,” Lonli-Lokli said. He was as calm as though we were talking about the ingredients of a lunch we had already eaten.

“Everything’s fine at the House by the Bridge. Something strange seems to be happening just to us. You can talk to Sir Lookfi. I think Juffin is right there beside him by now.”

“This game is called ‘broken telephone,’” I said.

“What? Which game is that?”

“Oh, never mind. Just take the levers, friend.”

We changed places yet again, and I sent a call to Lookfi, not without trepidation. This time everything worked without a hitch.

Good day, Lookfi. Is Sir Juffin with you?

Good day, Sir Max. I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear from you. Sir Shurf told me that neither of you was able to send a call to anyone but me. Isn’t that a bit strange?

Indeed it is! I couldn’t help but smile. I’m sorry we’re causing you such inconvenience, Lookfi, but you’ll have to repeat every word I say to Juffin, and then report to us what he says. Can you manage?

Of course, Sir Max. Don’t worry about me. No inconvenience whatsoever. It’s very flattering and . . . interesting. Taking part in your conversation with Sir Juffin, I mean.

Excellent, Lookfi, I said, and carefully recounted the few, but very curious, events of the day.

Sir Juffin requests that you describe the route you have been traveling up to this point, after turning off the main road, Lookfi said.

I described in as much detail as possible the narrow, almost impassable lane and the twisting mountain road, the gloomy cliffs overgrown with bluish grass, and the bottomless precipices that opened up now to the right, now to the left of our route. After reflecting a bit, I recalled again the vague answers of the guide to the simplest and most reasonable questions—when, devil take it, would we finally arrive in that blasted little town?

Sir Juffin asked me to relate to you, Sir Max, that he lived for four-hundred some years in Kettari, caught well over several dozen robbers in the surrounding forests, and didn’t spend all his free days in the city. So it’s no surprise he knows every blade of grass in the entire area. But never in his born days has he seen anything like the landscape you’ve described, Lookfi said. And Sir Juffin also says that . . . Oh, Sinning Magicians, but that’s impossible! And Sir Lookfi Pence’s voice disappeared from my mind without a trace.

I tried sending him another call, without much hope of success. No response, just as I suspected.

“Now there’s no answer from Lookfi, either,” I told Lonli-Lokli gloomily. “Sir Juffin managed to catch the story of our absurd post-prandial journey, and announced that in the environs of Kettari there is nothing resembling the terrain we’re passing through. Then he asked Lookfi to relay something else. Lookfi heard what the chief wanted to tell us, said that it was ‘impossible, ’ and then the connection went dead. I wish we knew what Juffin wanted to say!”