Макс Фрай - The Stranger

Juffin’s prognosis was correct. The next day, Madam Zizinda came to the House by the Bridge with her cook, and toward evening, yet another plump, red-haired beauty with violet eyes arrived, with two terrified cooks in tow. Since I had come to work fairly early, I was lucky enough to witness the spectacle. Only when Lookfi ran downstairs, red in the face and getting tangled in the hem of his looxi, did I realize this was the famous Lady Varisha, adored young wife of the Master Curator of Knowledge, and proprietress of a restaurant renowned throughout Echo: The Fatman at the Bend.

Sir Lonli-Lokli made a long speech about “how happy we were,” and so forth. Our Master Who Snuffs Out of Unnecessary Lives was simply indispensable in such situations. Melifaro stared at the guests in frank admiration, nudging Lookfi with his elbow occasionally, and bellowing with approval: “Good show, fellow! Good show!”

At last, flattered by our attentions, Lady Varisha left, gripping her treasure tightly. Poor Lookfi’s legs were buckling under him from the emotional strain. The cooks, whose ears were already adorned with the cunning embellishments, followed their mistress gloomily.

Then Melamori and I went out for a walk, leaving only Kurush behind in the Chancellory. The buriwok didn’t object—I promised to buy him a pastry.

This time there were no fraught conversations about my “non-human origins.” Alas, neither were there any passionate kisses when we parted. But I wasn’t bitter or sad. If this wonderful lady needed time to make room in her heart for me—so be it. I could allow myself the luxury of being patient. Nowadays, besides our waking meetings, I had my dreams, too.

I had only to close my eyes, and she appeared at the bedroom window. In contrast to her original, the Melamori of my dreams wasn’t the least bit afraid of me. She came very near, smiled, and whispered sweet nothings in my ear. She couldn’t touch me, though; it was as though an invisible glass partition sprang up between us every time. Nor could I take any action—it was so hard to move in this dream. I could begin to stir, but my mobility stopped there. Then she would disappear. I would wake up and toss and turn for a long time in bed, trying to pick up the pieces of my dream so I’d be able to hold it in my memory.

The days passed very quickly. At home I spent hours fumbling with my pillow. The process was still long and tiresome, but I didn’t mind. I was glad that at least something succeeded. How and why were questions I avoided asking myself. I couldn’t come up with anything sensible, so it was better if things just unfolded as they wished.

In the evenings I hit the streets with Melamori, and at night, on my shift, I twiddled my thumbs and chatted with Kurush. Then, a few hours before dawn, I went home to see another Melamori, the Melamori of my dreams.

Juffin seemed to guess that there were some strange things happening to me. In any case, he had nothing against my absences from duty. Whenever I saw him, I noted the flash of unfeigned curiosity in his eyes. A chemist leaning over his beaker—that’s what our Venerable Head looked like at those moments. Evidently, to him I resembled some sort of rare virus. I suppose I should have been pleased.

The culinary wizards really did start pouring into the House by the Bridge. After Mr. Goppa Tallaboona graced us with his presence (he was the proprietor of all the Skeletons : Sated, Tipsy, Fat, Happy, etc.), it was clear that Juffin’s brilliant idea had conquered the folk.

Goppa didn’t really need the Earring of Oxalla at all. Not only did he not know how to cook, but he ate his food cold and raw. Mr. Tallaboona brought two dozen of his head chefs to us. And while Melifaro performed the appropriate ritual on them, he gave his colleagues from the Secret Investigative Force an edifying lecture on the dangers of gluttony. The sly old fox knew no one would pay the least bit of attention.

It had been ten days since our historic visit to Jafax, when I received a call from Sir Kofa Yox an hour before sunset. I was just about to fish out a sixth cigarette butt from the Chink between Worlds. Getting more than five cigarettes before leaving for work was a rare achievement, but I kept right on trying.

Take your regular clothes with you today, Max. You’ll need them , Kofa advised.

Has something happened? I asked in alarm.

No, but something will, believe me. Wait for me after midnight, boy. Over and out .

I was so intrigued that I even forgot to be glad about the sixth cigarette, which I found in my hand.

At the House by the Bridge, the usual chaos reigned. An angry, already thinner Melifaro was fighting off hordes of cooks who were lusting after the Earring of Oxalla.

“I work until sundown, gentlemen. Sun-DOWN. You know what that is? It’s when the sun goes beddy-bye. Do you know what the sun is? It’s that shiny round object that crawls through the heavens! I think I’m making myself clear. Come back tomorrow!”

The cooks shuffled disconsolately around the Hall of Common Labor, hoping Melifaro might just be blowing off a little steam before getting down to work again.

“Indeed, why don’t you come back tomorrow, gentlemen?” I suggested amicably. “Or if you’re so determined, I guess I could try my hand at it. Any volunteers?”

The cooks began to depart, eyeing my black and gold Mantle of Death suspiciously. A moment later, Melifaro and I found ourselves alone.

“Thanks, Mr. Bad Dream!” Melifaro smiled wearily. “I never realized there were so many cooks in Echo. Today alone I obliged a hundred fifty of them. It is magic, after all. And I’m not made of steel, as this monster Juffin seems to think I am. I’m going home to bed. Tomorrow it’s sure be more of the same!”

I went into the office. Sir Juffin Hully had already left, most likely to some tavern to sow the sweet fruits of his government labor.

“Max!” Melamori peeked through the half-opened door. “Are you here, yet?”

“No,” I said, with a shake of my head. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Oh, that’s what I thought,” said Melamori and perched on the arm of my chair. This was a sudden change of events!

“Will you treat me to some kamra, Sir Max? Let’s sit here and talk a bit. I don’t feel like walking today. You know, I just can’t sleep these days. I wanted to ask you . . .”

“Ask away.”

At that moment, the delivery boy from the Glutton Bunba > interrupted us. Melamori poured herself some kamra and leaned her face over the mug to catch the soothing steam. I understood this meant we would begin to talk in another ten minutes or so. I was already familiar with all her little habits. After thinking a bit, I reached for a cigarette. To heck with conspiracy and discretion—if worse comes to worst, I’ll tell her the cigarettes were sent to me from my long-lost homeland.

But Melamori wasn’t concerned about my cigarettes.

“I dream about you every night,” she announced gloomily. “And I just wanted to know, are you doing this on purpose?”

I shook my head. I had a clean conscience. I really didn’t have anything to do with it. And I actually had no idea how to pull something off like that off “on purpose.”

“I dream of you, too. What’s so surprising about that? I think about you, and then I dream of you. That’s all. That’s the way it always is.”

“I’m talking about something else. Are you sure you don’t do even a bit of magic?”

I burst out laughing.

“I wouldn’t even know how to do any magic like that, Melamori! Ask Juffin. He has to make such an effort to teach me the simplest things.”

This was something of an exaggeration. I learned easily and quickly. It just seemed to me that it wouldn’t hurt to lay it on a bit thick. Let the lady think I was a dullard, and sleep soundly.