Макс Фрай - The Stranger

Lonli-Lokli didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed about any of this.

“Let’s think about it,” I said. “Lady Marilyn is a simple, uneducated country girl. I won’t even mention the poor fool Sir Max. We don’t know the most elementary things, but I assume that Sir Glamma does know these kinds of things, and Shurf Lonli-Lokli all the more.”

“Can you express yourself a bit more clearly? What exactly do you mean?”

“Wow! My whole life I’ve thought that the only thing I knew how to do was express myself clearly. Fine. I won’t boast—I’ll just ask you a few basic questions.”

“That’s a reasonable decision, Marilyn. Ask away. Maybe you’ll be able to make some sense of information that seems useless to me.”

“All right. First, from what I understand, when you send someone a call using Silent Speech, distance is immaterial. Is that right?”

“That’s exactly right. The main thing is to know the person you’re trying to communicate with. And reaching him in Arvarox, if need be, poses no problem.”

“Excellent. Let’s move on. Is there somewhere in the World where Silent Speech doesn’t work?”

“In Xolomi, naturally—you know that yourself. I’ve never heard of anyplace else, though. Of course there are people who simply don’t know how to use it, but our situation is somewhat different.”

“All right, that all makes perfect sense. Tell me, Shurf, maybe you’ve heard about a problem like this one? Not necessarily a true story—perhaps a legend, or a myth. A joke, if nothing else.”

“In the Order we used to say: ‘A good sorcerer can shout even as far as the next World.’ That’s more likely to be a joke than the truth. You can’t send a call to the next World. Luckily, we have ample evidence that all our colleagues are alive.”

“But what about us?” I blurted out.

“I’m used to trusting my senses. And my senses tell me I’m absolutely alive.”

“Well, gosh! Of course you’re alive! And I am, too, I hope, but . . . Oh, the devil with all my secrets! You’re the best grave for secrets, your own and others’, I imagine. It seems we’re in serious trouble. It will be easier for us to figure out just what kind of trouble it is when we’re both on the same page, I suppose. What I’m trying to say is that the ‘next World’ isn’t necessarily a place inhabited by the dead. There are many different Worlds, Shurf, and I’m living proof of it. My homeland could also be described as the ‘next World.’”

“I know,” Lonli-Lokli said serenely.

“You know? A vampire under your blanket! How? Did Juffin brief you about me, or something?”

“It’s all much simpler than that. The ruse about the Barren Lands was really a good one, so for a while I didn’t doubt its veracity. All I needed was enough time to observe your breathing to grow suspicious, though. Then there were Juffin’s mysterious explanations about how our magic works differently on you than on others. Finally, there’s the color of your eyes. You are aware that they constantly change color, are you not?”

“I know,” I murmured. “Melamori told me.”

“I never thought she could be so observant. Well, that’s a special case. Don’t worry. People don’t usually pay attention to such trifles. I wasn’t sure myself until I traveled in your dreams last night. You were much more talkative than usual. But we’re for now not talking about you. Tell me, where did you want this conversation to go?”

“All right,” I mumbled. “Let’s just hope that Professor Lonli-Lokli really is the one and only expert on the matter of how creatures from other Worlds breathe. I began this conversation with the aim of informing you that it’s highly unlikely I’d be able to send a call to my mom, even if I really wanted to. Am I making myself clear?”

“Absolutely. But it would seem that a journey between Worlds is a highly unusual event. And nothing out of the ordinary has happened to us. So far, it’s a journey like any other.”

“A journey like any other? For several hours we’ve been driving through terrain that, according to Sir Juffin Hully, doesn’t even exist, and a local inhabitant can’t tell us when we’re going to arrive at his home town! I can understand your skepticism. It wouldn’t have occurred to me, either, if I hadn’t traveled between Worlds in a regular old streetcar—which in my homeland is as mundane a means of transportation as the amobiler is here.”

“All right then, you seem to know best,” Lonli-Lokli said. “Let’s drop the subject for now. Sir Glamma will think that he’s just driving to the city of Kettari, and Lady Marilyn can maintain otherwise. That seems reasonable to me—to watch the situation as it unfolds from two different vantage points.”

“As our respected Master Caravan Leader would say, ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’”

“That’s just what I wanted to say,” Lonli-Lokli said. “Don’t you think we might finally be approaching Kettari?”

“Yes, the road has suddenly become very smooth, though the surroundings still don’t look very hospitable. Wait a minute, what’s that up ahead? Is it the wall of the city?”

“That’s what I was referring to.”

“Soon we should be seeing the seven Vaxari trees by the city gates, and the gate itself, which still contains the vestiges of the carving of old Kvava Ulon,” I said. “Now that we’ve finally arrived, I’m as excited as though this were my own hometown and not Juffin’s! What am I blathering on about, though? If it were my hometown . . . Oh, never mind.”

“Eleven,” Lonli-Lokli said.

“Eleven what?”

“Eleven Vaxari trees. You can count them.”

I stared at the approaching stand of trees.

“Ha! There really are eleven! And Juffin said there would be seven.”

“Who knows how many there used to be,” Lonli-Lokli said.

“Do you know anything about botany, Glamma?”

“A bit. Why?”

“Doesn’t it look to you as if these trees are all the same height?”

“Yes, it certainly does. But they’re very old, because the trunk of the Vaxari becomes knotty like those are only when it reaches the age of five hundred years.”

“Exactly! Don’t you see? That means that when Juffin was here there should already have been eleven. If now there were fewer trees, that would stand to reason. But more? Oh, and here are the city gates—brand new! No ancient ruins decorated by the long deceased Kvava Ulon. Simple and tasteful. Congratulations, dear. We’ve made it to Kettari. I can’t believe it!”

“Sooner or later it had to happen. Why are you so happy?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, looking around in excitement at the curiously elegant little houses.

An abudance of mismatched, crudely arranged flowers decorated the windows. They would have horrified an ikebana artist, but they warmed my heart. Intricate designs of tiny paving stones in every tint of gold and yellow ran every which way along the narrow streets. The air was clean and bitingly cold, despite the hot rays of the sun beating down on us. But I wasn’t cold, and I felt as though I had been cleansed from the inside out. My head spun slightly and my ears were ringing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lonli-Lokli asked.

“Lady Marilyn’s in love!” I smiled. “She and I are crazy about Kettari already! Just look at that little house . . . and that narrow, three-story one! What kind of vine has curled around it so that the weathervane doesn’t even budge? And the air—you can eat it with a spoon! Can you feel the difference? When we were driving through the mountains the wind wasn’t half so transparent and clean. Who could have thought that the World contained such a . . . such a . . . words fail me!”