Макс Фрай - The Stranger

What was bound to happen sooner or later happened just then. The monstrous gift of Grand Magician Maxlilgl Annox finally manifested itself in the full glory of its power. Contrary to Juffin’s prognosis, it happened when I was neither angry nor afraid. Itullo the Hunchback fell dead, conquered by my spittle, the deadly power of which now left no room for doubt.

“Oh, boy,” Melifaro stared at me in unfeigned rapture. “You’re reviving the best traditions of the Epoch of Orders. Without you the World would be a terribly dull place.”

“Did I kill him?” I asked in disbelief, still needing confirmation.

“Do you have any doubts about it? Do you think you just told him ‘Begone, creep!’?”

Melifaro, praise be the Magicians, doesn’t have the weakest nerves in the World. His smile stretched from ear to ear.

“You know what? I’m happy,” I said frankly. “I’ve never in my life seen anything so lowdown and loathsome in my life. Feeding people such filth, and at such outrageous prices! That mad chef has spoiled my appetite for a long time to come, and he has been fairly punished for his services. By the way, Melifaro,” I remarked, “I did spare your wallet. You never paid for the meal, did you?”

“A good way to save money, I can’t deny it. Not to mention that this Grand Magician of the Order of the Giant Sausage was planning to cut you into little pieces and serve you up in a gravy made from my blood I’m sure.”

“I’m still wondering, though.” My senses were rapidly returning to me. “That fellow, Karry; Mr. Karwen Kovareka. He was transformed into meat at home in his bed, instead of in some cage . . .”

“Leave it to me, Sir Max. Your job is to kill far-from-innocent people. I’ll deal with everything else. Believe me, in about two hours I’ll be able to answer all your questions. I’ll send a call to Lonli-Lokli and let him know he can just take it easy, maybe go out for a quiet meal. You’ve put the poor fellow out of a job. What I really need now are a dozen of Boboota’s smartest men.”

“No problem, friend. You just need to arrange it with their boss,” I muttered. “Did it never occur to you, genius?”

“You think—”

“I don’t think anything. Thinking is your job. My job is killing far-from-innocent people. General Boboota ate here, then disappeared without a trace. Take my matches and go look for him. If he’s already well done, we’ll put him aside for Juffin. Who knows, maybe Sir Venerable Head wants to eat him for dinner.”

“Ugh! That’s revolting. Hand over the matches.”

A few minutes later, Melifaro’s jubilant voice echoed through the room.

“Juffin’s going to fire us, Mr. Bad Dream! Boboota’s here, but he seems to be all right. He doesn’t even look like a sausage—he’s just sleeping.”

“He’s been here since yesterday. Evidently, turning into pâté is a fairly lengthy process. Oh, if it hadn’t been for my darned good luck, poor Juffin would have been so happy! It looks like it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“What’s going on here? Are you here, Sir Melifaro?” It was the voice of Lieutenant Shixola, a policeman, and our good friend.

“Over here. Keep it down, boys. Your boss, it seems, is taking a nap.”

“What?! Our boss?”

Shixola quickened his pace, and tripped over the corpse of the mad chef at a rapid clip. I managed to catch him at the very moment his thoroughbred nose was an inch from the floor. His colleague, following close behind, miraculously avoided the same fate, and several more policemen reached for their weapons in alarm. Melifaro guffawed.

“Good day, Sir Max,” Shixola mumbled, freeing himself from my embrace. “Lucky for me you have excellent reflexes. What did I trip over?”

“Over the body of a state criminal—a poisoner, a cannibal, and the abductor of General Boboota. Mr. Itullo tried so hard to make your life easier and more pleasant! Truly, gentlemen, Sir Melifaro and I are terribly sorry. We are to blame. Here is your boss, healthy and all in one piece.”

“Not ‘we’—just you, Max!” Melifaro hurried to rid himself of the undeserved laurels. “I just came here for dinner. So, gentlemen, if you have come to punch the living daylights out of the one who rescued your boss, Sir Max is your man. I ask you to observe the proper protocol!”

The policemen looked at Melifaro as though he were a slow-witted sick child. It seemed to them that saying such things about a person wearing the Mantle of Death, in his presence, no less, was not courage, but suicide. I made a horrible grimace and showed Melifaro my fist. One shouldn’t let down one’s defenses in front of strangers, all the same. Otherwise, how could you keep them quaking in fear?

“I won’t disturb your work, gentlemen,” I said, bowing to Melifaro. “Carry on.”

“And you?” Melifaro asked indignantly.

“What more is there for me to do here? I’ll go cheer up Juffin. By the time you get there, he will already have had time to kill me for the good news. Then, you’ll see, you’ll be relieved. I’m saving your skin, friend. It’s nothing to me—I’m immortal.”

The poor policemen listened to me, mouths agape.

As I was going out the door, Melifaro’s voice reached me. “Were you serious about that immortality business, Max?” I sighed and resorted to Silent Speech, which I had been avoiding all day, Who knows who I am? I told you .

I set out for the House by the Bridge. I really couldn’t wait to repent before my boss. And I hadn’t seen Melamori since the morning.

Since I was driving the amobiler, I was in Sir Juffin Hully’s office, in less than ten minutes.

“I never expected you to be so prompt, Max. Finding Boboota a dozen seconds after sunset! That’s a record even for our office—cracking a case less than a minute after it was officially opened. We have something to celebrate. Let’s go to the Glutton . And you can stop peering around in hopes of seeing Lady Melamori. She has been home for two hours already, by my estimation. I let her off, poor thing: first her relatives, then that foolish call from you at sunrise. What brought that on? A surge of tender emotion? Come on, let’s go.”

“Did Melifaro manage to report everything to you while I was on my way here?” I was a bit hurt. “And here I thought my tongue would drop off before I finished telling my tale.”

“What do I need with someone’s report? I’m always with you, in a manner of speaking. And not because I so desperately want to be.”

“Always!?” I was flabbergasted. “That’s news to me!”

“Oh, Max. Don’t exaggerate. I would go off my rocker if I had to keep an eye on you all the time. But when I’m worried, it’s easier just to look in on how things are going than to keep fretting about you. Take it easy.”

“Well, as long as you don’t peek when I’m in the bathroom . . . I guess I won’t fret about it. But were you really worried?” I asked uncertainly, and accidentally bumped my forehead against the doorframe.

“Do you think yours is the only heart that sends out distress signals?”

Juffin finally took pity on me and casually placed an icy palm on my sore forehead, which relieving the pain instantly.

“Let’s go! If you stare at the door another minute, it may disappear altogether. Don’t get vindictive, now: you made two major blunders, which only someone as lucky as you could have gotten away with.”

“Blunders?” I echoed, mortified. “But I thought this was when you’d start praising me.”

We entered the Glutton .

“I am praising you. In our profession, being lucky is much more important than being thorough or quick on the uptake. Luck isn’t something you can learn. Don’t pout, son. You don’t need me to tell you about all your genius and the consequences thereof. What will you order?”