by Max Frei
“Good night,” said Sir Kofa, entering the office. I looked up at him and saw a face with thick, bushy eyebrows rapidly becoming Kofa’s own. “You’re still here, boy? And what kinds of werewolves, pray tell, are you contemplating at the bottom of your empty cup?”
“I could use a full cup right now—you’re spot on—and that’s easy enough to fix. Sit down and help yourself to anything you can find. If there’s something you can’t find, we can take care of it in no time, praise be Dondi Melixis, who has been paying our bills from Madam Zizinda’s place.”
“I always knew that your working methods were something else,” said Sir Kofa.
“Thanks to you. You were the one who taught me that one should spend one’s office hours in taverns at the company’s expense. Now you can sit back and admire the results of your labors. You have the right.”
And we sent a small order to the Glutton Bunba. The capacity of my stomach was staggering. Today I had started munching at dawn and had hardly stopped munching since, except for that brief intermission when I had waged a little war against my friend Lonli-Lokli and flown hither and yon above the spiked roofs of Echo.
I was finally able to appreciate the comic side ofmy recent adventures—it was about time, too—and laughed in relief. For that reason Sir Kofa was privileged to hear my narration of the evening’s events in the genre of black comedy rather than Shakespearian tragedy. Thank goodness at least someone derived some real pleasure from the story.
“Okay,” he said when he stopped laughing, “you have convinced me that you had a great deal of fun. Now you only need to convince yourself of the same thing.”
“Yeah, that’s not as easy as it may sound,” I said. “Not to worry, though. Tomorrow I’ll be as good as new.”
“Tomorrow? Of course. Tomorrow you’re having a different kind of adventure. But you like change, don’t you?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “Usually it takes the form of a rapid change in my decision about which tavern to while away my evening in.”
“I think you’ll find tomorrow’s event more than amusing,” said Kofa. “The guests alone will be worth it.”
“You mean my subjects? Actually, ever since I taught them to tie their headbands the right way, they haven’t looked half bad.”
“Well, to each his own, of course, but I didn’t mean your subjects. I meant the grandees from our provinces. You’re in for a sea of pleasure.”
“Are they really funny?” I said.
“Oh, yes. Each in his own way. Besides, His Indefatigable Majesty Gurig VIII has invited almost every foreign ambassador who happens to be in Echo at the moment.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Why do they ‘happen to be’ here? Aren’t there always ambassadors in the Capital of the Unified Kingdom?”
“No. Why?” said Kofa. “We don’t need them here. That’s actually not a very good idea, Max. It’s bad enough that they bring their backsides to Echo every time they want something from us. Then again, they always want something from us.”
“I see. Tell me about our ‘grandees,’ Kofa,” I said. “I don’t feel sleepy, and I desire to be entertained.”
“Telling won’t do them justice. You need to see them. And tomorrow you will. Well, you’ve already heard about your notorious ‘fellow countryman,’ I presume?”
“Count Gachillo Vook? Sir Dark Sack? Of course. But frankly, I don’t know much about him. I’ve heard that he got pretty bored in his castle and got all excited when he heard he’d have me as a neighbor. Fortunately, his hopes were all in vain. Oh, and I also heard that he’s a fierce warrior. One heck of a miscreant.”
“Very true. By the way, the old Count Gachillo taught the art of war to the late father of our king. The Dark Sack can easily take half the credit for the epic hundred-year war, with the Battle for the Code as the grand finale, whatever Grand Magician Nuflin Moni Mak thinks about it.”
“Why is he called Dark Sack, by the way?”
“Oh, there’s a whole story behind it. Count Gachillo abides by two firm principles. Number one is that he should always travel light. Number two is that it’s beneath his dignity to lack the most necessary things when traveling away from home. Since old Gachillo is a decent magician, especially considering that he was born far, far away from Uguland, the count found a simple way of reconciling these two contradictory principles. He simply cast a dozen spells on his old traveling bag. Since then, he’s always come to the Capital with no luggage whatsoever except the empty traveling bag strapped to the saddle of his antlered steed. Whatever he needs he can produce from the bag—everything from an outfit for a festive occasion to an army of loyal vassals in full regalia. Hence the name Dark Sack. As far as I know, Count Gachillo is very fond of his nickname.”
“How ingenious!” I said. “I should make friends with him. Better yet, I should become his apprentice. I completely and wholeheartedly share his two firm principles. All your stuff in one bag—what could be better than that?”
“See? And you didn’t want to become the ruler of the Barren Lands.”
“I’d rather Count Gachillo ruled them,” I said. “I’m sure he’d feel right in his element.”
“You underestimate your own people, Max,” said Kofa. “Your subjects would rather die than be subjugated to some ‘barbarian,’ as they call anyone who wasn’t blessed with having produced his first cry in the boundless steppes of the Lands of Fanghaxra. And the ‘rather die’ part is something Count Gachillo would love to do for them. He’s very eager to wield his sword, given the opportunity. Believe me.”
“I believe you,” I said. Suddenly I yawned, taking myself quite by surprise.
“Are you ready to have some quality time with a pillow?” said Kofa. “Good. Tomorrow’s going to be a difficult day for you.”
“Not the whole day, though, just the evening, praise be the Magicians. The fun doesn’t start until almost dusk. Still, I just realized that my pillow is one in a million. I think I’m going to go cuddle with it. Thank you, Kofa. You’ve set me up on my feet again.”
“Knocked you off your feet, rather. Then again, it was just what you needed, wasn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” I said, getting up and yawning again. “If there’s a hue and cry about an official amobiler being stolen in the morning, know that I’m the culprit. That wicked Lonli-Lokli destroyed mine, and all the stores are already closed. Good night to you, Kofa.”
“And good night to you, too,” said our Master Eavesdropper.
I sincerely hoped that his words would come true.
And come true they did. As soon as I found myself in Tekki’s cozy bedroom, where she was snoozing happily, I got under the blanket and fell fast asleep, and my dreams resembled a documentary on the Garden of Eden. So I slept soundly all the way through to lunch—who could say if there would ever be a rerun?
Waking up was pleasant, too. Tekki was magnanimous enough to leave a small burner with a jug of kamra by the head of the bed. She herself was nowhere to be found. She had probably buried her head in the morning issue of the Echo Hustle and Bustle behind the bar. I sent her a call to thank her.
Don’t mention it, baby. I’m just trying to get used to my new role as king’s concubine, she replied.
Will you come up?
I’m sorry, I’ve got customers, and the help is nowhere to be found. It’s all my fault: I told her she could come in late today. So make yourself presentable and come down.
Anything you say, ma’am.
And slowly, one step at a time, I made my way to the bathroom, where I dipped myself in each of the eight bathing pools. Then I donned my black-and-gold Mantle of Death and proceeded to the first floor of the house, the Armstrong & Ella tavern.
Indeed, there actually were a few customers there. Their haggard faces discouraged morning chitchat, to put it mildly. But there, on a barstool, sat my old friend Anday Pu. I still hadn’t gotten him his longed-for ticket to Tasher. To my utter surprise, he was drinking kamra. For as long as
I had studied his habits, he had preferred much stronger beverages at any time of the day.
Tekki greeted me with one of her most beautiful smiles. Then again, I’ve never known her to smile any other way.
“A hole in the heavens above my coronation,” I said. “It’s so great being here. Instead, I have to go somewhere else and dabble in international politics and other such nonsense.”
Anday Pu jumped on his barstool, perturbed, then turned to me. “Max, you don’t catch! It’s super cool to be a king! Then you can just tell everyone else to stuff it! If I were you—”
“Yeah. If you were me. That would be something. I’d love to see it. Preferably through a keyhole,” I said. “What’s going on with you today, buddy? You’re suspiciously sober and all dressed up. Wait, don’t tell me you’re going to the coronation.”
“Sir Rogro Jiil, praise be the Magicians, does catch that I’d do a much better job there than some know-it-all writer for the society pages,” said Anday. “Because—”
“Because they don’t allow journalists in to such events at all,” I said. “Now you, on the other hand, as a friend of mine, do stand a chance to gain admission, right? You don’t have to answer—I know I’m right. Being my friend is a unique advantage.”
“You don’t catch, Max,” said Anday. “Sometimes you can be so cynical, sound the alarm!”
I laughed to conceal embarrassment. I didn’t know what had gotten into me. It’s easy enough to offend an artist, not to mention a poet making a living as a reporter. Anday was devastated. It pained me to look at him.
“Hey, stop pouting, Blackbeard Junior,” I said, winking at him. “It doesn’t matter what I’m blabbing about. What matters is that I’m inviting you to the celebration, seeing that you’re all dressed up already.”
Anday winced. “I told you my head starts to spin when you call me those strange names. You don’t catch, Max. My name is the only thing that keeps me rooted.”
“You don’t need to be rooted,” I said. “You should fly for a change. It’s loads of fun, trust me. I tried it myself the other day.”
Tekki studied me with candid curiosity, but Anday Pu turned a deaf ear to my inadvertent confession.
“Still, I’m not prepared to be deprived of my only name,” he said.
His forced sobriety didn’t improve his mood, which even at the best of times was of a somewhat gloomy cast. My ambitious prophecy that living high on the hog and enjoying a brilliant career would one day improve the temper of this hotheaded creature had been no more than wishful thinking.
I gave up, finished my mug of wonderful kamra (I sometimes thought that the daughter of Loiso Pondoxo had been using up all of her sinister inheritance of Magic solely on making this godly beverage), looked out the window, and realized that it was time for me to go.
“Consider yourself lucky,” I said to Tekki, “because I’m out of here. First the sinning coronation. Then, later tonight, I’m going to be doing the devil knows what.”
“That ‘devil’ you mention with such regularity, does he really know that much about you?” said Tekki. “By the way, the people I watch sometimes through that magic box of yours also use the word ‘devil’ a lot. I still don’t understand whether this is a spell or just a manner of speaking.”
I stopped and contemplated the question for a while; it was worth thinking about. Sir Anday Pu, the descendant of Ukumbian pirates, was so preoccupied with himself, thank goodness, that he wasn’t paying any attention to my conversation with Tekki. Giving him access to the secrets of the magic of the cinema was out of the question—the fellow had not been designed for keeping secrets. Not only would he have given it away in the first tavern he visited afterward, he would also have written a dozen articles about it.
Tekki was looking at me, waiting. It seemed as thought she was genuinely interested in the whole devil business.
“I think it originally used to be a spell but has since become a manner of speaking,” I said. “That happens when spells lose their power.”
“You bet it does,” said Tekki in the voice of an expert. “Okay, now I’m beginning to understand. Go ahead and have fun, honey. You know how I spend my evenings nowadays.”
“And how. To think that I was the one who brought that damn box here! Well, no one to blame but myself. Anyway, now I really have to go.”
I jumped down from the barstool and shook Anday, who had fallen asleep. “Wake up, you wordsmith!” He almost said something rude to me but bit his tongue just in time and trotted along toward the door.
Have a nice trip through Xumgat, Sir Max. And watch your head there. I like you much better with it than without.
Tekki’s Silent Speech was so strong that it almost felled me. I stood fast, however, and even had the strength to turn around. She smiled a sad smile and waved.
“Thanks for the advice,” I said out loud. “My head is something I’m really very attached to.”
All the way to the House by the Bridge, Anday and I were silent. I had a few things to think about—for example, how Tekki had found out about the dangerous trip Juffin and I were about to take. Not that I considered it a big secret, but I hadn’t had time to talk about it with her. When I returned home the night before, Tekki had already been asleep. When she got up, I was still snoozing. The only short time we had together, we wasted on mindless chitchat.
It’s one of two things, I thought. Either I really talk in my sleep, or . . . Or I have to keep reminding myself who she is. Then again, she is the daughter of Loiso Pondoxo. Clairvoyance is probably the least of her abilities.
I stopped the amobiler by the staff entrance of the House by the Bridge and sighed: I had to admit I didn’t know much about her. If anything.
“You can wait for me in the amobiler. I’ll be back soon,” I said to the journalist.
Funny, but the fellow still lost his peace of mind in the presence of the harmless members of the city police force. At the same time, my Mantle of Death had never made him even remotely timid from day one. Marvelous are thy deeds, indeed.
“I’m okay. I’ll wait here. You have things to do there,” said Anday, nodding.
The hallway on our side of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order was empty, and so was the Hall of Common Labor. No wonder: the entire Minor Secret Investigative Force was partying in Juffin’s office. Even Sir Lonli-Lokli had temporarily left his cell. He was feeding Kurush pastries from the Glutton Bunba and discussing new titles in the city library with Melamori in a low voice. From what I could gather, he was all right. Good, I had one less thing to worry about.
“Lucky you,” I said. “You’re partying here, and I have to head to the palace. I’m jealous.”
“Not yet, you don’t,” said Juffin. “You’re a king, after all. You can arrive last. If His Majesty King Gurig were planning to attend your coronation, then, sure, you’d have had to hurry up. But since politics and etiquette prevent him from appearing at the ceremony, you have the right to a quick glass of something and even one cookie, at the very least.”
“‘One cookie, at the very least’ equals three in my book,” I said. “It’s the best piece of news I’ve heard in the past dozen years. What are we celebrating anyway?”
“Your enthronement, of course!” said Melifaro. He tried to guard the tray of pastries with his body. “Hands off! Don’t they feed you at the palace?”
“One more word and I’ll declare war on this barbarian country,” I said, sitting down on the armrest of Melamori’s armchair. She put her cold palm on top of my hand.
“Good day, Max.” She had the desperate eyes of a person dying from grief.
If you want me to build a raft and take you to Arvarox on it, just give me a holler. I decided to resort to Silent Speech. Some topics should be addressed without delay.
I probably do, but I won’t be hollering just yet. Don’t pay too much attention to me, Max. My mood is a variable, not a constant. It depends on the weather, among other things, by the way.
/> Then we need to change the weather.
According to the astrologists’ forecasts, it’s going to change later today. Thank you, Max, but let’s speak out loud now. The prolonged silence looks suspicious.
I submitted. “Don’t you guys want to keep me company?” I said to my colleagues. “Without your moral support, that blasted coronation will be the end of me.”
“Well, I’m definitely not leaving you alone,” said Juffin. “Unlike our king, I am required to be present at this momentous event.”
“That’s good news,” I said. “More volunteers, please?”
“I would love to accept your invitation, but as you know . . .” said Shurf Lonli-Lokli, and made a helpless gesture.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
“Not only have you gotten yourself into a scrape, you also want to spoil the evening for the rest of us,” said Sir Kofa. “No, thanks. I’m staying in the office. Someone has to stay behind and hold down the fort.”
“You know, Max,” whispered Melamori, “I think I’m going to betray you, too. The very idea of betrayal sounds so attractive. I’ve wanted to try it since childhood. Plus, I was going to watch a movie tonight.”
“I knew it. I know another lady who can’t wait until sunset. I’m willing to bet you promised her you’d bring a bottle from the cellars of your uncle Kima, too.”
“You are unbearable, Max. You know everything about everyone.”
“Well, not everything, but I do know my basic facts,” I said, laughing, and turned to Melifaro. “How about you, mister? Will you pass up the chance to rain on my parade?”
“Quit whining, I’m not going to abandon you,” my diurnal half said in the tone of a gentleman who has suddenly decided to marry one of the many victims of his masculine charms. “First, this ‘parade’ basically begs to be rained on. Second, I’d never pass up the chance of seeing an old friend of mine.”