Макс Фрай - The Stranger

“Well, in several dozen years, I figure I’ll be able to procure most anything at all!” I announced confidently. “You don’t want to have a good time before then?”

“Oh, no, Sir Max! How could I? A person shouldn’t neglect the opportunity for relaxation, but it’s inadmissible to indulge in it too often.”

“I’ll take that into account. How wise you are, Sir Shurf. You don’t mind if I just lie down here on this divan, do you? I’ve already grown used to it—I’ve never been upstairs to the bedroom. I don’t have the strength to get used to yet another new bed. Wake me up in two or three hours. I’ve got so much to do . . . don’t I?”

With these words, I closed my eyes and bid farewell to all the Worlds. I had no dreams, only one infinitely long moment of complete repose.

When I awoke, it was nearly dark in the living room. The windows let in a meager, dusky gray twilight. A fat greenish moon had already begun its triumphal ascent above the horizon. I looked around, dazed, to see Lonli-Lokli sitting stock-still in the rocker. He seemed to be practicing his breathing gymnastics.

“W-hat happened, Sir Shurf?” I mumbled in dismay. “I asked you to wake me up! Are you getting absentminded?”

“I did try wake you up,” Lonli-Lokli’s said. “In three hours, as you requested. I never could have imagined how lustily you can curse. I must admit, I didn’t understand more than half the words—but I jotted them down. And I would be much obliged to you if you would explain what they mean.”

“You jotted them down! Sinning Magicians, what did I say? I’m even curious myself. Come on, show me the list.”

“It’s quite dark in the room. We should probably light a lamp. You can’t see in the dark, as far as I know.”

“I don’t need a lamp. I’ll figure it out somehow. I’m not yet awake enough to be able to stand bright light.”

I took the neat, small piece of paper covered with Lonli-Lokli’s large, evenly spaced handwriting, and read the words. Well, I’ll be! Some of them were words I hadn’t even resorted to in my moments of greatest despair. I felt very ashamed.

“Ouch! Shurf, I’m terribly sorry! I hope you understand that I don’t think that way.”

“No need to trouble yourself with apologies, Max. I know very well that a person can say anything at all in his sleep. But I’m truly interested in what these words mean.”

“All right,” I sighed. “First I’ll bathe, and then we’ll go out somewhere to eat. Honestly, I’ll have to drink some courage if you want to hear a real translation and not some pathetic attempt to beat about the bush!”

“That’s a reasonable suggestion,” Shurf nodded. “I must admit, I’m hungry.”

“Oh, and our last pennies are in my pocket! What a scoundrel I am! Well, never mind. We’ll get back on our feet again.”

A half-hour later we were sitting in the Old Table , where I had breakfasted so enjoyably not long ago. As it turned out, the place became even cozier and livelier toward evening. In any case, according to our landlady, “some people spend every waking hour of the rest of their born days in the Country Home ; and there’s nothing better closer to home.” As for the Down Home Diner , I would drop in there later, and alone. I had to play that game without Shurf—for the time being, anyway.

I began my “morning” with a jug of kamra and a glass of some sort of burning hot infusion. Drinking directly upon waking isn’t my style, but we had to celebrate the return of my own dearly beloved countenance. I had also promised to deliver a lecture on uncensored profanity for Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, seeker of fresh knowledge. Without a hefty dose of a strong beverage, this just wasn’t going to happen.

After I had started to relax, I examined Shurf’s handwritten list. He eagerly scooted closer to me.

“Well, this is nothing very exciting. Just a female dog. And this . . . how should I say it, Shurf—a man who is undeserving of respect and who has some serious problems with the plumbing in his backside. It’s a word that describes stupid people, although the root is directly connected to the process of reproduction.”

“Oh, that’s an entire science,” Lonli-Lokli said respectfully. “In my opinion it’s very hard to understand how it works.”

“Really? I never thought so. It’s fairly simple. Well, shall we go on?”

“Certainly.”

“Very well. Now this expression may be used interchangeably with the straightforward human expression ‘go away,’ but it makes the one on the receiving end doubt his own ability to procreate. And this is a kind of animal, and at the same time a man who is undeserving of respect, and who has problems with his back passage—”

“And what kinds of problems are they that beset the poor man?”

“It’s hard to say,” I muttered, frustrated. “Magicians be praised, nothing like that ever happened to me.”

In about fifteen minutes we had come to the end of the list. Toward the end I was inclined to blush; but Sir Lonli-Lokli was happy, and that was the main thing.

“I’ll probably go home to bed, if you don’t have any other plans for tonight,” my friend suggested uncertainly.

We had just left the cozy little tavern, and I was feverishly trying to think of a way to make my escape. I had an appointment to keep at the Down Home Diner with Sir Mackie Ainti.

“Sure, Shurf,” I said, secretly relieved. “I do have plans tonight, but—”

“I understand. It’s better this way. Since I came to after trying that strange herb, all I want to do is sleep.”

“All the better. Sweet sleep is an excellent thing. By the way, I really hope you weren’t terribly shocked by the cursing.”

“Why are you so worried, Max?” Lonli-Lokli asked, surprised. “Words are just that—words, and nothing more. Even if you had said them in a conscious state, I would have considered the situation to be more amusing than alarming.”

“You’ve taken a load off my chest! In that case, good night, Sir Shurf. I hope it won’t be three or four days before I return. After our meal I have just a little more than two crowns left. Here, you take one. At least we won’t starve.”

“I also hope I see you in the morning,” said Lonli-Lokli. “Thank you, Max. You are demonstrating enviable foresight.”

I didn’t even have to look at the map. I remembered the way to the Down Home Diner , although it was unusual for me not to be disoriented in an unfamiliar town. Soon I had arrived at the intersection of High Street and Fisheye Street. I had already heard the gurgling of the fountain several blocks away.

Sir Mackie was sitting in the same place, hunched over the Kettarian version of chess, as before. He was the only one in the hall.

“Welcome, partner,” he said, turning to me. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d go that far.”

“What do you mean?” I was taken aback.

“Stop pulling my leg. All right, all right—I just want to say that you cook up Worlds like nobody’s business. I wish I could do it so easily. True, you didn’t actually realize what you were doing, and so forfeited the lion’s share of pleasure. But that’s just a temporary hitch.”

I drew in a sharp breath. “Do you mean to say that this city of my dreams wasn’t there before? I was the one who—”

“Sit down and take a breather, Max. You seem to have several primitive, but extremely effective ways of making yourself relax. Go ahead. Hellika!”

The smiling tavernkeeper appeared at his table instantly. Rather than sitting down with Sir Mackie, I went over to the place I had been sitting the first time. Mackie stopped his solitary game and came over to join me. Judging by the expression on his face, I had done the right thing.