Макс Фрай - The Stranger

“I’m probably a terrible bore, Max,” said Melamori. “I promised you that I would try to figure out why I was afraid of you. But I haven’t been able to. And that’s probably very bad, because—well, because . . .” her voice trailed away and she stared gloomily at her glass.

“What is there to understand?” I grinned. “I’m just a very scary fellow. Don’t worry. Everyone’s afraid of me. And don’t make a tragedy out of it. In fact, you don’t have to try to figure anything out. In matters like this, people should just consult their hearts.”

“But I have two hearts!” Melamori retorted. “One that is brave, and another that is wise. And they want completely different things!”

“Well, then you’ll just have to draw up a schedule. Let one of them lead the way today, and tomorrow it will be the other one’s turn. That’s a solution.”

“Why are you in such a hurry, Max? Life is so long. It’s good not to know everything there is to know, and everything that is to come. When everything has already happened . . . something wonderful disappears . . . I don’t have the words to explain this.”

“We’ve had different upbringings, Melamori. I prefer things to be more definite. Somewhat, anyway.”

“Take me home, Max,” Melamori said suddenly. “I’ve overestimated my own abilities—in all respects. Please don’t be angry.”

“Oh, I’m not angry,” I said. “Maybe we can just do this more often? Walking together, I mean. While your two hearts are trying to sort things out between them, I would have a bit more happiness.”

“Certainly, Max,” Melamori said, “as long as it doesn’t annoy you. The walks, I mean. They’re not exactly what people expect when they have feelings for someone. I just happen to be a stubborn exception to the rule.”

“When I was young, living very far away from here,” I intoned like a thousand-year old man, “I had some difficult times. Let’s just say I had only one pie, but I wanted to have ten. But I never threw away that single pie just because I wanted more. I’ve always been a sensible fellow, Melamori.”

“I understand, Max,” said Melamori, and smiled. “I would never have believed that you had to get by on just a single pie.”

“I still do, as you see, in a certain sense. Let’s go, you look like you’re about to drop off to sleep.”

“I feel like I’m already dreaming,” Melamori murmured. Then I took her home.

When we arrived I was rewarded with a playful, smacking kiss on the cheek. Don’t let yourself be seduced by that, I thought to myself. That innocent kiss doesn’t mean anything But my head was spinning with joy. My breathing exercises were powerless to combat it.

I took a roundabout way back to the office. It was easier to think while I was walking than it would be sitting in the chair, and I certainly had things to think about. About Melamori’s two hearts, for instance. If it were any other girl, the confession about the two quarreling hearts would have struck me as a silly, high-flown metaphor. But what did I actually know about the physiology of the inhabitants of Echo? Very little, when it came right down to it.

Returning to the House by the Bridge, I sent a call to Lady Tanita. My modest experience in matters like this told me that she would hardly be sleeping soundly, even at this late hour.

Good night, Lady Tanita. I wanted you to know that at around sundown I killed the man who caused Karwen’s death.

I decided not to explain to the widow that her husband’s horrific death had come about, in fact, by chance. It was unlikely to comfort her in any way.

Thank you, Sir Max , she answered. Revenge is better than nothing. You know, I took your advice. I’ve already moved so I can start a new life. And that’s better than nothing, too.

When you open a new tavern, send me a call. I’ll definitely come by and save you from any possible chance of bankruptcy. Good night, Lady Tanita.

I don’t think you’ll care much for what my new cook prepares, but you must come anyway. Good night, Sir Max. And thank you again—for the advice, and for avenging me.

When the invisible connection with Lady Tanita was broken, I was again alone, except for the sweetly sleeping Kurush. Soon, sleep stole over me, as well, and recalling Sir Juffin’s order, I dozed dutifully in his chair.

I was extremely uncomfortable. My back ached, my legs went numb. I woke up every five minutes, then slipped immediately into slumber again. “Don’t fidget, don’t get distracted,” the voice of Maba Kalox, the most mysterious creature in this improbable World, repeated to me in my dream. I couldn’t really see his face, though. Toward morning, I also dreamed about Juffin, but I didn’t have the strength to understand, much less remember, the contents of these importunate visions.

“You look terrible, Max.”

The cheerful voice of Juffin restored me to life. It was morning. I felt quite sick.

“Were you playing tricks on me me?” I asked wearily. “What were you and Sir Maba up to?”

“Do you remember?” Juffin asked. “Do you remember what you dreamed?”

“Not really. Only that you were there, and it was exhausting, I hasten to add. Well, and Sir Maba’s voice—he told me ‘not to fidget.’ What was it about, Juffin?”

“Never mind. You’ll go home, sleep a bit, and you’ll be as good as new. Before you go, though, try making some kamra again.”

“Juffin, are you taking revenge on me for Boboota?” I asked. “What a beast you are, after all.”

The chief looked at me with genuine compassion.

“Why, is it that bad? Please, Max, try it. I beg you. Honestly, I’m not teasing you. Or if I am, just the very slightest bit.”

I went downstairs and had a good wash. I did feel better, though my body still ached all over. Returning to the office, I clattered the dishes around humorlessly. Sir Juffin Hully behaved like a director on premier night. He was terribly nervous, but he tried hard to conceal it. I hurried to get the culinary experiment over with.

“Here,” I said. “Who are you planning to torture? What’s that you say—the hunchback’s waitress wouldn’t talk? Let her drink that, the old shrew.”

To my surprise, Juffin not only sniffed the contents of the pot, he even tasted it himself. When he tasted it a second time, my jaw dropped as far as it could without falling off altogether.

“Don’t you want to try it, Max?”

“Come off it,” I said, sighing. “That’s all I need.”

“As you wish.” Sir Juffin filled his mug to the brim. “It’s not quite as good as the kamra in the Glutton ; but still, I like it.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you drinking that stuff? Are you getting stingy? I can put it on my tab in the Glutton— I’m rich and generous. Don’t do it, sir!”

“Don’t you get it, Max? Try it yourself—stop fooling around!”

I tried it. The kamra wasn’t as good as the Glutton ’s; but it was better than the kamra in the Sated Skeleton in my neighborhood.

“Did you teach me how to make kamra in my sleep?” The truth was starting to dawn on me.

“Not me—Maba! It wasn’t within my powers. In time I may be able to teach you to move between Worlds—but not how to cook. It wasn’t even easy for Maba.”

“But why? Do you need a new chef?”

“Far from it, son. There’s no power in the World that will make a good chef out of you. To be honest, Maba and I just wanted to find out what we were worth. We weren’t sure we could do it. But now we know that no one else can match us. And it may come in handy for you. Go home to bed, poor fellow. Tonight you can enjoy life. Come back tomorrow exactly one hour before sunset. We have an important call to pay.”