Макс Фрай - The Stranger

“Ignorance is no sin,” said Juffin. “But I don’t understand. Why can’t you learn this one thing? You do much more difficult things with the greatest of ease.”

“Talent,” I insisted. “You need talent for everything. In this area of expertise, I happen to be all thumbs. It’s lucky for you, Juffin, that you never tried one of my omelets. Not to mention the rest of my culinary quirks. Sandwiches are the acme of my abilities.”

“Really? That’s terrible. Fine, let’s go to the Glutton . And if someone comes when we’re not here, Kurush will take care of him. Right, my dear?” Juffin said fondly, stroking the buriwok’s soft feathers.

Kurush looked very pleased.

Naturally, when we got to the Glutton, we couldn’t settle for just two mugs of kamra. We had a lengthy, hearty breakfast, and I was finally convinced that the pre-holiday nightmare had been left behind.

“Don’t even think of hightailing it home yet, Max! The Royal Showering of Gifts is scheduled for noon. If I’m not mistaken, you’re also on the list for receiving some unadulterated nonsense or other.”

“And Sir Kumbra Kurmak couldn’t be persuaded to part with my souvenir an hour earlier?”

“What a sly one you are! No, you’ll just have to be patient. Kumbra won’t show up before noon, anyway.”

“Maybe it could be a reward for saving Melifaro’s life two days in a row. The only thing I’m dreaming about is going to bed.”

“You’ll have to wait a while. Don’t pout, Max. I picked out an excellent present for you. It far outshines a present from the King.”

Juffin handed me a ceramic vessel with delicate cracks on it that witnessed to a venerable old age.

“This is—!”

“Sh-h-h. Yes, it’s the real thing!” The smile on the face of my boss revealed that this could be nothing other than Elixir of Kaxar, the sweet offspring of Forbidden Magic, the only potion capable of restoring my composure in any situation. Just in time!

“You’re hushing me up like someone is about to rat on us as we speak. I’d like to know who—is Sir Kofa somewhere around here?”

“It’s always the same,” grumbled a bald, sharp-nosed old man who had just seated himself at the next table.

Yes, it was none other than Sir Kofa Yox, in the flesh—though skillfully disguised, as usual, in the interests of the profession.

“And I was just about to arrest you, gentlemen. Well, never mind. I’ll insist on a bribe, though, Max. In contrast to you, I haven’t slept a wink for four nights straight. Well, hardly at all, anyway. A hole in the heavens above this Last Day of the Year!”

I began to open the bottle eagerly.

“You’re really letting yourselves go, boys,” Juffin smirked. “Magic of the eighth degree in a public place and abusing professional privileges, that’s what it is.”

“Oh, give us a break, Juffin! Well, do you want Max and me to turn ourselves in? We’ll turn you in, too, while we’re at it. I’d like to see what you would do if we tried.”

It had been a long time since I’d seen Sir Kofa so happy. He had grown younger by . . . oh, I’ve never been much good with numbers of that magnitude.

At midday we reported to the Chancellory of Minor and Major Inducements, where those who were eager for awards had already gathered. Never in my life have I seen so many cops in one place at the same time, I thought, and could hardly stop from laughing.

Luckily, ever since the irony of fate had wrapped me in the Mantle of Death, I could afford to overstep the protocol of almost any official ceremony. In the House by the Bridge I was granted almost everything my heart desired. Who cared about the trembling subordinates of General Boboota Box, and their boss, grunting and groaning under the weight of his own significance?

Actually, today Boboota was somewhat subdued. I recalled that it had been a while since I’d heard his refined soliloquies, redolent with a thorough knowledge of the techniques of defecation. Most likely the pre-holiday commotion had put a damper even on the brave General of the Police.

Finally, the corpulent and amiable Sir Kumbra handed me the generic Royal Trinket Box and I went home. For one thing, I had had only the smallest nip of the reviving tonic: these things must be saved for the appropriate occasion. And for another thing, the cats were waiting for me. The poor things were somewhat overwhelmed by their recent close confinement with Sir Melifaro. They, too, deserved some rewards and comfort.

“Max!” Juffin’s voice reached me just as I was on my way out. I turned around.

“Something else?”

“Yes. You still have an unfulfilled promise hanging over you. You should take care of it before the New Year.”

“What promise is that?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

“The last time you were at my house you promised Chuff you would visit him soon.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“It’s a reminder. If my company hasn’t become irksome to you, just know that I’ll be home by sunset, and not a minute later. I don’t think anyone has to sit at the Ministry tonight. Kurush can manage without you until midnight, in any case, especially since there will probably be nothing to manage.”

“Thank you. Of course I’ll come. I’ll eat everything that’s put on the table. And then I’ll go rummage around in the closets.”

“I don’t doubt it. All right, go get some shuteye.”

Armstrong and Ella greeted me with petulant meowing. As a consequence of Melifaro’s deep sleep, they had received their breakfast several hours later than usual over the past few days, and they didn’t intend to welcome the innovation.

“That’s all over, my little furries,” I reassured them, filling their bowls. “Everything’s back to normal now.”

Curiosity proved to be stronger than weariness. Before I fell asleep, I opened the Royal Trinket Box to see what was inside. Not a hundred days had passed since I had tried to open just such a box. Now I did it almost mechanically. Hmm, yes. Magic of the fourth degree we had already mastered, and much else, besides, a hole in the heavens above!

This time I had received a surprisingly beautiful little medallion made of white steel, which is prized far more highly than gold in this World that lacks precious metals. On the medallion was the likeness of a fat, peculiar-looking, but very appealing little creature. Peering closely at it, I gleaned that the unknown artist had tried to depict Armstrong (or Ella, his nearly identical other half).

Three hours of sleep was more than enough. Even a tiny drop of Elixir of Kaxar can do wonders, it seems. In my joy, I straightened up the house, cleaned up after the cats, and even shaved. Then I sat in the living room, filling my pipe with the local tobacco, the taste of which I had never been able to get used to. But the ritual of fiddling with the pipe is itself one of the true pleasures of domestic leisure.

At sundown, I carefully packed myself into the amobiler and set out for the other side of the Xuron, to the quiet and respectable Left Bank. I drove through completely empty streets. Restaurant proprietors were peacefully nodding off in the doorways of their establishments, not really hoping to take in any profits that night. Birds wandered about on the mosaic pavements. The residents of Echo were resting from the cares of the year gone by. There was no trace of noisy celebration, only the deep, unbroken slumber for which the capital had so desperately longed.

Juffin opened the door for me himself. Kimpa, his butler, had gone to sleep right after he had laid the table. Our eagerness to stay up and talk had no doubt struck him as the height of eccentricity.

The first thing I did was embrace Chuff, who was practically swooning in ecstasy. The little dog licked my nose carefully, and then started in on my ear. I prefer other modes of washing, but I vowed to enjoy this one.