The Stranger: The Labyrinths of Echo, Part One

by Max Frei

  My little tantrum seemed to convince Melamori better than any rational argument could that there was no plot against her, and never had been. Ever.

  “Let’s get out of here, Sir Max!” she begged, sitting on her haunches next to me. She carefully stroked my poor, crazy head, and whispered, “You’re scaring the visitors. Let’s go. You can laugh all you want when we’re outside. Come on, get up.”

  I leaned obediently on the strong, small hand. Sinning Magicians, this delicate lady lifted me up without any effort at all!

  Outside, the fresh breeze seemed to put everything in its proper place, and I no longer felt like laughing.

  “Strange things have been happening lately, Melamori,” I said. Then I was silent. What else was there to say?

  “Max,” she cried. “I’m so ashamed. When I was in your bedroom—well, now I understand that I did something very foolish, but I was so frightened! I completely lost my head!”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “You fall asleep in your own house, and you wake up the devil knows where.”

  “What’s ‘the devil’?” Melamori asked.

  It wasn’t the first time I had had to explain my way out of such idiomatic scrapes. Now I didn’t even try.

  “It doesn’t matter. But you know, I really don’t know what I did. I still have no idea how it happened.”

  “I believe you,” Melamori said, nodding. “Now I realize you didn’t know your own powers, but . . . it’s too late.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it has already happened. Only we’re going to your place, not mine. I live too close. Let this last walk be a long one.”

  “The last walk? Are you out of your mind, Melamori? Do you think I’ll bite your head off in a burst of passion?”

  I tried to be upbeat, so that I could raise my spirits.

  “Of course you’re not going to bite my head off. It wouldn’t fit in your mouth,” Melamori replied with a weak smile. “But that’s not the point. Don’t you realize where we just met, Max?”

  “In the Quarter of Trysts. You’ll never believe how I got there. Think what you wish, but I ended up there in pursuit of a fellow in a mother-of-pearl belt. You remember all that business with the belts, don’t you?”

  Melamori nodded, and I went on.

  “We had a little scuffle on the street, and then I arrested him. He’s still here.” I pointed to my left fist.

  “Do you mean to say—” Melamori burst out laughing.

  Now it was her turn to sit down on the sidewalk. I sat next to her, my arm around her shoulders as she howled with laughter.

  “And I thought that you—Oh, it’s too much! You’re the most extraordinary fellow in the World, Sir Max! I adore you! What a shame!”

  At long last, we got up to go.

  “Have you never been to the Quarter of Trysts?” Melamori asked suddenly.

  “No. In the Barren Lands everything is much simpler. Or much more complicated, depending on how you look at it. So, no. This is the first time.”

  “And you don’t know—” Melamori’s voice broke into a whisper. “You don’t know that people who meet in the Quarter of Trysts are supposed to spend the night and then part forever?”

  “In our case that’s absolutely impossible,” I said, and smiled, although my heart was slowly sinking down to my toes. “We aren’t both going to quit our jobs, I suppose.”

  Melamori shook her head.

  “That’s not necessary. We can see each other as often as we like, Max, only we will be strangers. I mean—well, you know what I mean. It’s the tradition. You can’t do anything about it. It’s my own fault. I went there to get back at someone. I don’t know who, or why . . . I shouldn’t have gone there, and you shouldn’t have either. Although, who knows whose fault it is? People don’t really have any choice in the matter.”

  “But—”

  I was completely bewildered. My mind was such a mess I should have just shut up.

  “Let’s not talk about this, all right Max? Tomorrow is still a long way away, and . . . they say destiny is wiser than we are.”

  “We won’t if you don’t want to. But I think all this sounds like primitive malarky. We can decide for ourselves what to do. Why do we need all those silly traditions? If you wish, we can just walk around today as though nothing happened. No one will tell anyone anything, and then—”

  “I don’t want to, and it’s impossible,” Melamori sighed, smiling, and covered my mouth gently with her ice-cold hand. “I’m telling you, enough about that, all right?”

  We continued on our way in silence. The Street of Old Coins was quite close already. Another few minutes, and we entered my dark living room. Ella and Armstrong began meowing pitifully. Day or night, in female company or all alone, as soon as I walk in the door they demand food! I was distracted for a moment by the feline distress signals. Melamori examined the cats with astonishment.

  “So those are the parents of the future Royal Cats? Where did you get them, Max?”

  “What do you mean? They were sent from Melifaro’s estate, didn’t you know?”

  “Why does the whole Court consider them to be an unknown breed, then?”

  “Magicians only know. I just started taking care of them. It seems never to have occurred to them that cats need to be groomed. Melamori, are you sure everything’s all right? More than anything on earth I hate coercion.”

  “I already told you. Nothing depends on us, Max. It’s out of our hands. What’s happened has happened. The only thing we can do now is waste even more time than we have already.”

  “All right. I won’t argue with you. For now,” I said, and put my arms around her. “I’m not going to waste any more time, either.”

  “Just try not to let your arrestee escape. The one thing I’m not planning on doing tonight is chasing him all over the house.”

  Melamori smiled a sad, ironic smile. I tried to imagine our pursuit, and laughed so hard I almost fell down the stairs, taking Melamori with me. Melamori struggled with her imagination for a second and then started giggling, too. Perhaps we weren’t behaving too romantically, but that was just what we needed. Laughter spices up the passions much better than the languid seriousness of lovers clinging to one another in melodramas. And I hate melodramas.

  Of course, the thing that kept nagging at me was that crazy talk about “the last time,” which Melamori had started and ended so abruptly on our way to my place. They say that the anticipation of parting heightens pleasure. I’m not too sure about that. I think that night might have been perfect if it hadn’t been for the thought that morning would soon arrive, and I would have to wage a hopeless struggle against the prejudices and superstitions of my newly acquired treasure. These thoughts did not enhance my desperate attempts to be happy.

  “How strange,” Melamori said. “I was so afraid of you, Max. But now I find that it’s all so peaceful and easy to be with you. So peaceful and easy . . . As though it was all I had ever needed my whole life. How stupid it all is.”

  “What are you calling stupid?” I smiled. “I hope you aren’t referring to what just happened.”

  “Well,” said Melamori, laughing. “That wouldn’t be the right word for it. It’s not exactly an intellectual activity.”

  Now we were both laughing. Suddenly, Melamori broke out in a wail I wouldn’t have been able to imagine possible. I was so upset that it took me a whole minute to think of a way to calm her down. Some “thinker” I am!

  The dawn that I had been dreading the whole night nevertheless crept up in the heavens at the appointed hour. Melamori dozed on my embroidered pillow, smiling in her sleep.

  At that moment, I became absolutely certain of what I must do. The plan of action, a very simple but effective one, was as clear as the morning sky. I simply wouldn’t let her go. I’d let her sleep, and when she woke up I would sit beside her. I’d throw my arms around her. She would start to squeal and try to break free, and would spew all kinds of nonsense about tradi
tions, and I would silently hear her out and wait as long as necessary for her to be quiet. Then I’d say to her, “Sweetheart, while you were asleep I came to an understanding with destiny. It won’t object if we stay together a little bit longer.” And if Lady Melamori still protested, I just wouldn’t listen.

  I finally started feeling a bit better, and I even felt sleepy, but I couldn’t afford to take any chances. I took a hearty swig of Elixir of Kaxar. My drowsiness evaporated, muttering an apology. There remained one problem to take care of: I really wanted to use the toilet. I didn’t want to leave my outpost, but my upbringing wouldn’t allow me to wet the bed.

  A half hour later I realized that there were a few things a person couldn’t postpone indefinitely, and I looked attentively at Melamori. She was sleeping, there could be no doubt about it. I left the room on tiptoe, and shot downstairs like a speeding bullet. The trip didn’t take too much time. When I got back up to the living room, my heart suddenly cried out, wrenched with pain: “That’s the end of that, boy!”

  Completely dejected, I slumped down on the step and heard the outside door slam followed by the clacking of my own amobiler. I realized it was all over. This was truly the end.

  I wanted to send a call to Melamori, but I knew it wouldn’t help. Nothing would. The destiny that I had reached an understanding with thumbed its nose at me.

  After I had somehow mastered my emotions, I bathed, got dressed, and went to work. After all, the bearded arrestee, who might have been considered quite an effective love potion, was still balled up in my fist. The fact that this bizarre talisman hadn’t brought me luck was another matter altogether.

  The amobiler wasn’t in front of the door, of course. I wondered whether stealing the personal property of a lover from the Quarter of Trysts was also a hallowed tradition.

  I had to go to the House by the Bridge on foot. Every stone on the pavement screamed out my loss. “A few hours ago you were passing us together,” the ancient, one-story houses on the Street of Old Coins reproached me heartlessly. I felt absolutely forlorn. Then I did the only thing that promised to bring me any relief: I sent a call to Sir Juffin Hully. I’m on my way, Juffin. I’m bringing a present. In the meantime, how are things?

  They almost did you in last night, didn’t they? the chief inquired.

  Yes. Last night, and then again this morning—in a manner of speaking. Not more than fifteen minutes ago. But that’s beside the point right now. Talk to me, Juffin. Just tell me how the case of the belts is going, all right?

  Silent Speech, as always, required my full concentration, so I couldn’t think about anything else when I was using it. And that was just what I needed.

  Of course. When have I ever refused to save time? Listen carefully. First, Melifaro was able to identify the victim yesterday. He was a young man named Apatti Xlen. Ah yes, this name doesn’t say anything to you. It was a celebrated case, Max. It happened about two years ago, in the Moni Mak family home. Yes, Max, it was Sir Ikas Moni Mak, grand nephew of Magician Nuflin himself. He had received a visit from some old friends of his wife, the Xlens, who had settled on their estate in Uruland during the Troubled Times. When it was time for young Apatti to decide what to do with his insignificant life, they sent him to the capital, where the boy lived for half a year in the home of Moni Mak. I think he was going to school. Then he disappeared, taking with him the White Seven-Leaf Clover. We know for certain that not long before this Apatti had bought an elegant, gleaming belt in one of the harbor shops. Sir Ikas remembered this object, so there can be no doubt—

  “Good day, Sir Max. You walk almost as quickly as you drive.”

  Silent Speech broke off, and live conversation started up, for I was already in the office I shared with Juffin.

  “Or I drive as slowly as I walk. But there’s something I don’t understand. What did he swipe from the magician’s grandnephew? I asked, trying to put up a good front, as though nothing at all had happened to me. Juffin should hardly have had to pay for my fatal inability to lead an office romance to a “happily ever after.”

  The boss shook his head and thrust a mug of kamra into my hand. His eyes expressed ordinary human compassion. Or was I just imagining it?

  “He stole the White Seven-Leaf Clover, Max. That’s just a pretty bauble—only a copy of the Shining Seven-Leaf Clover, the amulet of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover. Already during the Epoch of Orders there were rumors about the extraordinary power of this object, but I’ll tell you a terrible state secret: all these rumors were complete hogwash. The only thing the Shining Seven-Leaf Clover is capable of is bringing personal happiness to Sir Nuflin . . .”

  “That’s no small thing!”

  “Yes, but on the other hand it’s not all that much. And the White Seven-Leaf Clover can’t even do that. It’s just a pretty, useless gewgaw. But the boy snatched it and disappeared for two years. We checked up on it: the Old Maid was anchored in our harbor at that time, so I personally haven’t a single doubt that poor Apatti spent a long vacation in Tashera, and has now come home, only to be killed. Do you know how he died?”

  “He decided to foreswear all ornamentation? Took off the belt?”

  “You guessed it. Almost. The fellow didn’t do anything so foolish of his own accord. He was robbed. And because the robber was interested in the belt, he removed it right then and there. You can imagine what happened to Apatti. A terrible death.”

  I shuddered.

  “But why are you so sure that it was a robber? Maybe the fellow decided to challenge the ban on removing it. Maybe he decided to do just what he felt like doing?”

  “And experience all the charming consequences firsthand? Don’t you think that hypothesis is a bit too daring? Besides, they already found the robber. Dead. He was being fitted for some new clothes and he took off the belt, poor chap. The police took him to the morgue yesterday evening, soon after you left. Now the two of them are lying there side by side, a vision to behold.”

  “I see,” I replied. “And what about our captain?”

  “He’s sleeping sweetly after a heart-to-heart talk. Here’s what he told us: Agon the merchant hired him four years ago for a trading voyage. He gave him the belt as a ‘token of friendship.’ The captain immediately put it on and fell right into the trap. They showed him the power of the belt. Not the full extent of its power—but enough, as a warning. Then Mr. Agon explained to the poor blighter that his job was to carry out orders unquestioningly. If he did, everything would be fine. The captain didn’t have to do anything very unusual. He just sailed the Old Maid from Tashera to Echo and back. And he protected it from curious eyes. Giatta recruited his crew himself, although before the last journey Agon brought a new cook on board. He didn’t consult Giatta about the decision—he just showed the old cook the door. The main thing was that the new cook wasn’t wearing a belt. All the while, Giatta is sure that Mr. Agon was afraid of his own protégé. Do you smell an intrigue, Max? I think that’s our protagonist. Never mind, we’ll get around to him eventually. By the way, when the cook arrived in Echo he disappeared, so food was brought to the crew from a nearby inn. Actually, he didn’t really help us out all that much, the great Captain Giatta, belts notwithstanding. Agon understood that you can’t trust captives or slaves. By the way, the captain intends to devote the rest of his long life to kissing your feet. He believes you saved his skin and his soul, and he’s absolutely right.” Juffin paused.“So, what kind of ‘present’ have you brought for me?”

  “Another happy belt-owner. He was about to slash me to pieces. But everything turned out all right in the end, as you see. I still don’t know how I managed. I witnessed a knife pierced my insides, after which I disappeared, and then suddenly I was there again—completely unharmed.”

  “I know,” Juffin grinned. “You managed that trick very well. All the rest was pretty awful, though. You behaved like a child, Sir Max. Aren’t you ashamed?”

  “Nah. I’m a fool, of course—but I always suspected it. I d
idn’t need any more proof.”

  I recalled how I had frightened the stranger with my bawdy antics, and smiled involuntarily.

  “Melifaro would have been amused, don’t you think?”

  “I do think so,” Juffin said laughing. “But the way you followed him—that was a very poor performance. The fellow spotted you within a few seconds and made a beeline for the nearest populated area. I’m afraid it won’t be any easier to teach you the art of shadowing than it was to make a decent cook out of you. Turning you into a ghost was less difficult.”

  “Juffin,” I asked cautiously. “Were you watching me the whole time?”

  “As though I have nothing better to do! I only came near when I smelled trouble. I wanted to help you, but you wriggled out of it somehow on your own. Do you remember how you did it?”

  “Are you joking? I had no idea what was going on!”

  “Naturally. That’s the misfortune of talented people, Max. You act first, and then you try to understand how it got you into trouble. We ordinary folks are much more reliable. All right then, let’s examine your discovery.”

  “Shall I let him out?” I asked, getting ready.

  “Wait, don’t make any rash decisions. First, tell me, what does he look like, this unsuccessful butcher of live meat? I was watching you, not him.”

  I began describing the appearance of my companion from the Quarter of Trysts, but as I babbled away, bitter memories clutched at my heart again. I fell silent and stared dully at the floor.

  “Excellent, Max!” Juffin held himself aloof from my worldly sorrow. “Do you know who you’ve captured? It’s the owner of the Old Maid himself—Mr. Agon in the flesh. Your famous luck is better than any amulet.”

  “Great,” I said morosely. “You can tear me to pieces and dole me out to the poor and suffering. I won’t object. So what should I do with him now? Keep him as a memento of a wonderful night?”

  “That’s not such a bad idea. I suspect that Mr. Agon is closer than anyone to solving the unpleasant mystery of these foolish belts. Among the other bans placed on him by the owner of the belt is no doubt the prohibition against having anything to do with the authorities. Once he’s in the House by the Bridge, he’s bound to die. We simply won’t be able to save him.”