Макс Фрай - The Stranger

I was terribly drowsy on the way home. All the same I sent Melamori a call.

How are things, my lady?

Not much to report. While you were waltzing around Jafax, I had to entertain Melifaro. And the girls, of course. They all took to each other immediately. Poor fellow, his head’s probably still spinning after so much heavy-duty flirting. He’s used to taking on the ladies one by one. But here—what a range of possibilities!

And how did they like me?

I don’t know. I can’t remember. I really overindulged in the liqueur and the hard stuff yesterday. Sweet dreams, Max. I’m falling asleep.

Will I see you tomorrow?

Sure! Over and out.

Melamori had also picked up my inane little expression. It was pleasant, as though she had a keepsake of mine in her pocket that she took out to show her friends from time to time.

As soon as I fell asleep, my life—interesting though it already was—became even more interesting. I dreamed that an invisible guest had just made himself at home in my bedroom.

“Greetings, clairvoyant!” I recognized the voice of Maba Kalox instantly. “You were very clever to discover me back there. But in future, don’t show off, all right? Everyone already knows how smart you are, and I like to stay incognito.”

“I’m sorry, Sir Maba!”

I was already asleep, but I was still aware enough to understand just what he was saying.

“It wasn’t such a terrible faux pas. Those three would have sensed my presence even without your help. From now on, though, remember—if you want to talk to me, well, that’s what Silent Speech is for. Announcing to everyone that ‘Sir Maba is here!’ isn’t the thing to do. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” I mumbled. I was ashamed of myself.

“Good. Now, since I just blew in on a wild wind, I’m going to give you a present.”

“What kind of present?”

“What do you mean ‘what kind’? A good one! Keep an eye on your pillow from now on. Make sure no one tries to move it from its proper place.”

“Why?”

“Because the pillow of such a great hero can be an excellent plug in the Chink between Worlds. Am I making myself clear?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Oh, Max. How does poor Juffin manage to teach you anything? I can’t imagine! Fine. Remember how I fetched all those silly treats for you from under the table?”

“Oh yes,” I said, smiling broadly in my sleep. “Do you mean to tell me that I can do that, too, now?”

“Well, let’s just say that you can’t do it like that yet, but if you set your mind to it, you may be able to rustle up a few of those funny smoking sticks from distant Worlds that you so crave. Try it when you wake up. And nail your pillow to the floor so it won’t get lost, is my advice to you!”

“What do I have to do?”

“Stick your hand under the pillow. Then everything will happen on its own. Only you must exercise patience, my boy. It takes a long time at first. You’ll see what I mean.”

“Well, Sir Maba, if I can get hold of just one regular cigarette, I’ll be forever in your debt!”

“That’s just fine. Your funny habit is the best guarantee that you’ll practice hard. Practice is what you need now.”

“Uh—will I dream you again?” I asked eagerly. “Maybe there’s something else I can learn from you.”

“Of course there is. Even without my help. I can’t promise I’ll visit you often. You’re young, and I’m so old. It’s not much fun for me to teach you. Let Juffin run around after you! All the more since you want to dream other things now. And it’s completely within your power.”

“What do you mean?”

But it was too late. Sir Maba Kalox had already disappeared. In his place, Melamori appeared at the window. I was glad, but somehow not surprised.

“Good dream, my lady!” I called out gaily. “How glad I am to see you!”

“Is this really a dream?” asked Melamori. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. And it’s my dream, not yours. I’m dreaming you.”

Melamori smiled and started melting away. Her fragile silhouette became completely transparent. I wanted to stop her, but suddenly I realized I couldn’t budge. I weighed a ton—no, who was I kidding? I weighed far more . . .

“Yes, I’m already almost home,” Melamori squeaked in surprise, and disappeared completely.

I woke up. It was early morning. Armstrong and Ella were breathing contentedly somewhere down by my heels. The kitties! They could accidentally nudge the pillow—the plug, that is—and other Worlds would come gushing into my poor bedroom! I fretted, only half awake.

I rushed over to the small cupboard at the far side of the room to find a needle and some thread. My stashing habits are sometimes truly remarkable. I got into bed again and sewed the corners of the pillow firmly to the thick sleeping-rug. I took a deep breath. Now everything was all right. I could sleep some more.

My head dropped onto the rug, next to the tightly secured pillow, and I blanked out. This time, no dreams came to me; none that I was aware of, anyway.

I finally woke up again around noon. The sun, enchantingly impertinent as happens only in early spring, peeped from behind the curtain. I stared at the firmly attached pillow in wonder—what kind of nonsense was this? Then I remembered.

Guess what I did next. I stuck my hand into the alleged Chink between Worlds and waited expectantly. I didn’t experience anything out of the ordinary. It must have looked absurd—a person on all fours, naked, one hand under the pillow, while on his face a look of tense anticipation of something miraculous. Thank goodness the windows were covered with shutters!

In about fifteen minutes, I began to think that Sir Maba Kalox had played a trick on me. A tiny trick, to be sure, but it was a fine way of taking revenge on me for recently blowing his cover. He had warned me it would be a lengthy process, however. So hope was still keeping itself warm in one of the dark corners of my heart—presumably the left ventricle.

Another ten minutes or so passed. My legs grew numb, my poor elbow screamed for mercy. Hope entered its final stages: the death throes. Then I realized that my right hand was no longer lying on the soft nap of the rug under the warm pillow. It was—horrors, it wasn’t anywhere at all! All the same, I was able to wiggle my fingers. To do this, though, I needed to make an effort of the will, rather than a physical effort of the muscles.

I was so afraid that I forgot about everything else in the world. My benumbed legs, my convulsively cramped shoulders—who cared?

Where was my poor paw, was what I wanted to know. Forget the blasted cigarettes! I’d smoke the stinking pipe tobacco. Just give me back my beloved hand!

Though I could do with a cigarette at a moment like this . . .

Suddenly I lurched backwards, so unexpectedly that I lost my balance and fell over on my side. Luckily, I didn’t have far to fall when I was already on all fours. I burst out in nervous laughter. My hand was with me again. More than that, between my middle finger and my forefinger I found a half-smoked, burning cigarette. There was a red lipstick stain on the filter. Aha! I had robbed some dame! The blue number 555 below the filter . . . Sinning Magicians, what’s the difference! I took a puff, and swooned. Deprivation had turned me into a terrible skinflint; seconds later I carefully put out the cigarette and went to wash. Then I warmed up the remains of yesterday’s kamra, sat in an armchair, and tenderly smoked the crumpled stub. What a glorious start to the day! It was as though I had dropped into the middle of a fairy tale.

Need I say that I didn’t emerge from the bedroom until sundown? I swear that even the desire to see Melamori couldn’t dislodge me until it was time for me to report to the House by the Bridge.