The Stranger

Chapter 7 Journey to Kettary

“GOOD DAY,MR. BAD DREAM,” MELIFARO’S SMILE SEEMED TO spill beyond the edges of his face.

“Bad night, Mr. Daydream.”

For a fraction of a second, he stared at me in perplexity, then nodded with relief.

“OK, I get it. That’s a good one, I must say. Did you think it up yourself?”

“No, Lonli-Lokli did.”

“Ha!”

We were sitting in the Glutton Bunba. My colleague was dining after a hard day of work, and I was having breakfast before a no less hard night of work. Most likely I would sit in my own office, inhaling the dizzying smells of spring invading the office through open windows, and do the breathing exercises Lonli-Lokli had recently taught me. Our humorless Sir Shurf really was the preeminent expert in this department.

The onset of spring is not the best season for mending broken hearts, which is why recently I hadn’t been the happiest of men. If Melifaro had known me longer than half a year, he would immediately have recognized the biting tone of my ordinarily inoffensive jokes. Good golly, could that be true? Not even half a year had passed since I turned up in Echo. I shook my head in disbelief.

“What’s wrong?” Melifaro asked.

“I just thought about how long I’ve been hanging out here in Echo. Not that long at all.”

“Yet you’ve already destroyed so many lives,” Melifaro said by way of praise, “and I’m sure you’re not going to stop there.”

“True that,” I said. “You just wait and see.”

“Juffin asked me to tell you not to worry about chewing too carefully,” Melifaro said with a hearty laugh. His voice expressed a tinge of envy.

“He must want to try out a new enema on me, but his hopes are all in vain. My stomach can digest pieces that haven’t been chewed at all,” I said. But my heart skipped a beat. If Sir Juffin was planning to burden me with some insoluble problem—gosh, that was just what I needed!

“He’s getting ready to reveal a secret to you. Huge letters reading ‘Caution! Dangerous Information Enclosed’ are printed across his forehead. I suspect you’ll have to gnaw the remains of several dozen Mutinous Magicians to wrest the great secret of a Universal Laxative from their criminal hands. Alas, I fear that my whole life I am destined to remain an ignorant witness of your malevolent intrigues.”

“I’m leaving, then. Malevolent intrigues just sound too tempting.”

“You’re not even going to finish your meal? You’ll starve to death while you’re on duty, and I’ll be dancing a jig on a little heap of ashes that remains of you.”

“I’m not going to finish the meal, nor am I paying for it,” I replied, wrapping myself in my warm Mantle of Death. “I’m so fearsome that it doesn’t matter what I do.”

With that, I strode boldly to the door. Our repartee could go on forever, and I was spurred on by a tantalizing mixture of curiosity and hope.

When I arrived Sir Juffin Hully was just sniffing the contents of a jug of kamra. Then he nodded in satisfaction and filled his mug.

“For the sake of experiment I compromised my principles. This kamra is not from the Glutton, Max. I ordered it from the Fatman at the Bend. I thought I’d just see how the little wife of our Lookfi earns her bread and butter. It’s not bad, not bad at all. Have you ever been there?”

I shook my head.

“That’s very bad of you. I’d go so far as to say it’s unpatriotic. Since the proprietress of the Fatman is the wife of our colleague, we have an obligation. But do sit down, Max. You could have finished your meal back there. That’s very unlike you, choosing work over food.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s surprised,” I said. “You seem to know everything about me that there is to know, Juffin, even what I’ve left behind on my plate. It boggles the mind.”

“Not everything. Just the most important things. I need to have a serious talk with you, Max. Very serious, indeed. I want to burden you with a problem.”

“Finally!” I said ecstatically, and reached into my pocket for the little parcel with cigarette butts that I still managed to salvage from the Chink between Worlds. In other words, from under my own pillow.

The teaching method of Sir Maba Kalox breaks down like this: many little treats, and no whip. All carrots, no stick. It works like a charm, every time. Tormented by the disgusting taste of the local tobacco, I spent days filching cigarettes from the inaccessible reaches of my own homeland, not bothering to struggle to understand how I was able to pull it off.

“I’ve been saving this problem for you from the start,” Juffin began. “Only it seemed to me that we’d need to wait several years, to give you time to get used to our World. But it turns out that you’re already used to it. There’s nothing to wait for.”

“I was just thinking about that myself,” I said, nodding. “It just occurred to me that Melifaro and I have known each other only half a year. And you brought him home only a few dozen days after I—”

“You can say that again,” Juffin said. “I myself can hardly believe the speed of your progress, even though I knew what a clever fellow I was dealing with. I should have been prepared. In any case, I’m certain you’ll manage with this, and now is just the right time. A short journey to the end of the world—that’s just what you need, wouldn’t you say?”

“Juffin, don’t hedge! You’ve whetted my curiosity to such a degree already that my head is spinning.”

“I’m not hedging. I’m just waiting for you to make yourself comfortable, light up a smoking stick, and perk up your ears. It’s a long story, Max, and very convoluted.”

“A hole in the heavens above you, sir! I adore long, convoluted stories.”

And Juffin began.

“There’s something going on in my home city of Kettari, Max.”

I gaped at him. I had anticipated any beginning to the story except this one, that’s for sure! Juffin smiled an understanding smile.

“Your knowledge of the geography of the Unified Kingdom is still rather superficial.”

“Please don’t spare my self-confidence, sir. I never take it with me when I leave home. I know nothing about your geography. It’s a fact.”

Juffin nodded and began unfolding a map. I stared at it, enchanted. Local cartography is its own branch of art. My chief tapped the neatly clipped nail of his narrow finger on a small, bright dot nestled in the west among finely delineated mountain peaks.

“That’s Kettari, Max. And Echo is here. See it?” His finger came to rest on the miniature depiction of a town in the lower part of the map. “Not too far, but not so very near, either. Do you know what this brightly colored circle means?”

I shook my head.

“It means that the main occupation of the city’s inhabitants is arts and crafts of various kinds. From time immemorial Kettari has been known for its carpets. Even when I was a boy they were inimitable, though there used to be many more fantastic things in the World than there are now. No one makes such fine rugs anywhere else. Naturally, the Capital is eager to do trade with Kettari: they like luxury here.”

“That enormous carpet the color of dark amber lying in your drawing room is from there. Am I right?”

“Right you are. How did you guess?”

“Because . . . because on the edges there is an embroidered inscription ‘Kettari Honey.’” I burst out laughing. Juffin did, too, of course.

“A vampire in your mouth, son! Are you going to listen or not?”

“Yes, yes.” I poured myself some more kamra and assumed an expression of intense concentration.

“Several dozen years ago in Echo it became customary to travel to Kettari in large caravans. It was quite convenient, so no one was surprised by the new practice. Even early on, I noticed that a native of Kettari always accompanied every caravan. I figured that if my countrymen wanted to earn a little money, what right did I have to prevent them? Of course, at first not everyone who wanted to go shopping was willing to go in a large group and pay for the services of a guide. There were a few curious incidents: for example, some of the blockheads from the Capital couldn’t find the road to Kettari. They returned home distraught and spread around some nonsense about Kettari being destroyed. That was no surprise, since idiots abound everywhere, and a person will invent all kinds of justifications for his stupidity. But all these stories convinced our merchants that a small fee for the Master Caravan Leaders, as my countrymen like to call themselves, is the lesser of evils. No one wants to lose time, to suffer setbacks, and to become a laughing stock, do they?”

“You say that grownup people with all their wits about them couldn’t find the road to your Kettari?” I asked, amazed. “Are the roads in the Unified Kingdom really so bad?”

“Good question, Max. A lot of people were amazed about this. How was it possible to get lost? The County Shimara is not the most outlying province, and Kettari is hardly what you might call the sticks. The caravan leaders claimed that most of the towns around Kettari were destroyed during the Troubled Times. Since life in these population centers depended solely on the needs of provincial Residences of the Orders around which they were built, there was no sense in reviving them.

“They mentioned that the roads had been destroyed, as well. That already seemed a bit strange. I never heard of anyone destroying roads, even during the Troubled Times. Why should it have happened now? There was a curious incident involving one of the Magicians of the Order of the Secret Grass—a close relative of our own Melifaro, by the way. When he was leaving the Capital, he anticipated that he would be pursued, and he caused the road along which they were traveling to veer up skyward. It must have been a strange spectacle—you’re traveling along a road and suddenly you realize you’re moving up into the clouds! I even proposed to Magician Nuflin that he leave everything that way; but in those days he wasn’t very compliant. They brought the road back to earth almost immediately; and that happened not in County Shimara, but right here outside of Echo. So I was very skeptical about the stories of ruined roads.

“Then I started thinking: if the local inhabitants are saying it, they must know what they’re talking about. And what difference does it make to me anyway? In short, the guides all believed it, and they believe it to this day. And why not? Our merchants return from Kettari loaded down with carpets. They also complain about the terrible condition of the roads. Kettarian carpets, by the way, become finer all the time, and the travelers are all unanimous in praising the beauties and riches of my native city. I don’t remember Kettari being a flourishing cultural center, although everything changes, and it’s a good thing when it’s for the better.”

“And you, Juffin, how long has it been since you were there?”

“A very long time. I seriously doubt whether I’ll ever go back. I have neither family nor friends in Kettari anymore, so I have neither ties of tenderness, nor obligation to this dot on the map, and I am not at all sentimental. In this I resemble you, by the way. But that’s not really why I don’t want to go there. I feel there’s some sort of inner ban on my returning there. I know that not only do I not need to go to Kettari—I shouldn’t. And my experiences witness to the fact that an inner ban is the only authentic kind. Are you familiar with that feeling, Max?”

I fiddled with the cigarette butt pensively.

“I think I know what you mean. A genuine inner ban is a thing of great power. Only I often can’t distinguish it from the other inner stuff: self-defeating, paranoid thoughts, superstitions, habits of mind.”

“Don’t fret about that. Emotional clarity is something that comes with time. Now then, back to the matter at hand. A few years ago, a bizarre chain of events began to unfold. In this very office, two fugitives from the law showed up. One of them kept shouting maniacally that they wanted to turn themselves in to Mr. Venerable Head personally. The other didn’t say a word, just stared at the same spot the entire time. They had been sent to the City Police Department for some trifling offense and had been able to escape the guards, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. Considering the chaos that reigns in Boboota’s office, I’d say it was predictable, if not inevitable.

“One of the fugitives, someone by the name of Motti Fara, turned out to be a countryman of mine. Like me, he hadn’t been in Kettari for quite some time—since the beginning of the Code Epoch, at least. When he got into trouble, he decided that his native city wasn’t the worst place to hide from the police of the Capital. So the two of them set off for Kettari. And got lost.”

“And that seemed too unlikely to you, right?” I asked, and added knowingly, “Maybe your countryman just had something wrong with his head? That happens sometimes, you know.”

“My countryman did not strike me as an idiot,” Juffin said drily. “In my humble opinion, Mr. Fara had quite enough intelligence to make it back to his hometown. But nothing came of it. After that failure, the fugitives returned to the Capital. Instead of hiding, they went straight to the House by the Bridge, which in itself is quite improbable, and started begging for a meeting with me. My curiosity did not allow me to ignore their request—people don’t often commit such foolhardy acts.”

“Oh, yes they do,” I murmured. “Even worse ones.”

“You’re right, for the most part,” Juffin smiled. “But for us, natives of Kettari, pragmatism is in the blood. Pay attention now; the best is yet to come. Don’t let your mind wander.”

“I’m sorry, Juffin. I don’t seem to be very cheerful, today.”

“That’s an understatement, if I’ve ever heard one. You’ve been so lacking in spirits lately that it’s nauseating just to look at you!” the chief said with a sigh.

Then he got up from his chair, came up to me, and tugged at my ear. It made me feel so awkward that I began to laugh nervously. When I stopped laughing, I realized with amazement that my mood really had noticeably improved. Even my broken heart felt like it had been reassembled.

“You deserve a break,” Juffin said. I felt his heavy hand on my shoulder. “It’s my little gift to you. To be honest, everything that is happening to you, you’ll have to come to terms with yourself, without anyone else’s help. But one can stray from any rule—if not too long, or too far. All the more since I need all your attention right now, not pathetic little shreds of it. Right-o?”

I nodded silently, delighting in the absence of the familiar gnawing pain in my chest, the trusty companion of every loss I ever experienced. Juffin went back to his chair and continued his story.

“My countryman seemed to be mortally afraid. He swore that Kettari had disappeared. Or, rather, that it lay in ruins. His companion was in a twilight state of consciousness, and the stench of madness hung about him like the smell of sweat on a farmer. The poor thing should have been sent to a Refuge for the Mad, not to prison. He couldn’t even say his own name, but mumbled incoherently. However, Motti Fara seemed to be a very sensible gentleman, however. He announced that the two years in Nunda Prison that he had been sentenced to were nothing compared to the disappearance of our native city. Then this true patriot of Kettari did this,” (here, Juffin tapped the tip of his nose with the index finger of his right hand) “and asked that, as one countryman to another, I not extend his sentence for running away.

“That’s our favorite Kettarian gesture, Max. It means that two good people can always come to an understanding. I was so moved I was ready to let him off altogether. Unfortunately, Boboota’s boys already knew that the sly fellow had found his way under my wing. Now that’s something I understand: old fashioned patriotism!”

I couldn’t suppress a smile, so loaded with irony was the chief’s remark.

“To continue, Max. A few days later, another caravan arrived, loaded with carpets from Kettari. Here were a few dozen reliable witnesses from the flourishing town. I could take comfort in the knowledge that my fugitives had simply gotten lost, after all. Yet a nagging voice inside me kept insisting that it wasn’t all as straightforward as that; and if I lose sleep over a problem for more than one night, it’s a sure sign that something smells fishy. When all is well in the World, I sleep soundly. That’s just the way I’m made. You’re the same way, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Me, sir? Why my rest depends on more down-to-earth matters. If I don’t forget to go to the bathroom before I go to bed, I sleep like the dead. If I forget, I toss and turn, and I’m tormented by gloomy premonitions about the imminent demise of the Universe. My constitution is very primitively designed, didn’t you know?”

Juffin grinned and poured me some kamra.

“To add to my own suspicions, my countryman wrote me letters nearly every day. I can still see that seal of the Nunda Royal Prison of Hard Labor in my mind’s eye. I even had to create a special box for his correspondence so it wouldn’t get mixed up with the other papers. The content of the letters was not distinguished by its variety. Here, take a look at one of them. It is paper, of course. Prisoners aren’t allowed to use self-inscribing tablets. But you’re used to paper, aren’t you?”

Juffin opened a small box, extracted a little square of thick paper from it, and handed it to me. With a voyeuristic thrill, I started reading the crabbed handwriting of this missive meant for someone else:Sir Venerable Head, I’m afraid that all the same you didn’t believe me. But Kettari true enough is no more. There is just an empty place, a pile of ancient ruins. I could not have gotten lost. I know every stone for miles around. I remember the seven Vaxari trees by the city gates. They’re still there. But the gates are gone! There’s just a bunch of stones that still bear the remains of the carving of old Kvavi Ulon. And behind them, just dusty rubble.

I handed the letter back to Juffin, who turned it over in his hands a few times and then placed it in the box again.

“Then he died, this unlucky fellow. It was more than a year ago now. Here’s his last letter. It’s different from the others. Another law of nature: the farther you go, the more interesting things become. Take a look, Max.”

I took the next folded paper square from him, and stumbling over fragments of the small, unfamiliar handwriting, began to read:Sir Venerable Head, I have once again decided to take pen in hand and take up your time. I hope they are passing my letters along to you. Last night I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the ruins that greeted me from behind the tops of those trees. And I remembered how Zaxo and I wandered around in those ruins for a long time. Probably that was when he lost his senses. As for me I just lost my memory. You see up until now I was sure that we had just left right away, and I couldn’t understand why Zaxo lost his mind. He isn’t from Kettari, so if someone was going to go off his head, it should have been me!

But last night I remembered that we went into the destroyed city, and I even found the ruins of my old home. But Zaxo said that I shouldn’t worry—there is the square, he said, and there are the tall houses, and there are people walking around everywhere. But I couldn’t see anything. My friend ran in that direction, and I was looking for him for a long time. And sometimes I could hear people’s voices, somewhere far away, so I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Only once I heard very clearly that they were talking about the old sheriff, Sir Mackie Ainti, and I was very surprised. He disappeared about 400 years ago, before my parents were even born, and someone said that he was on his way and that he would take care of everything.

Then I found Zaxo. He was sitting on a rock, crying, and he couldn’t answer any of my questions. I took him away from there, and we set out for Echo again. Sir Venerable Head, don’t think I just made all of this up on the spot. I really only remembered these details last night, and I doubt very much I remembered everything that happened to me there. I beg you, please try to find out what happened to Kettari. I love that city, and I left my younger sister behind there. I would like to find her when I leave Nunda, and that will happen very soon.

Here the letter broke off.

“How did he die?” I asked.

“Good question! Everything happened more than suddenly. They took him out for a walk, when the weather was fine and dry. Out of the blue there was a bolt of lightning. The poor fellow was reduced to a pile of ashes, while the guard came away only with singed eyebrows. Then came a peal of thunder and a downpour. Rain fell for two dozen days without ceasing. The first floor of the prison was flooded, and almost a dozen inmates were able to escape in the chaos. Nunda isn’t Xolomi, by a long shot! The incident created quite a furor. You know, Max, from the very start I was inclined to believe my countryman. Just the fact that he had voluntarily turned himself in to the authorities speaks volumes. Imagine how scared a person must be to subject himself to something that stupid. But you know, this letter and his strange death were the last straw. I realized that the fellow had led me to the brink of one of the most mysterious cases I had ever . . . Did you want to ask something, Max?”

“Yes. Besides the adventures and terrors of your unfortunate countryman, was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

“Your intuition works even when it doesn’t need to; I was going to tell you anyway. It’s nothing earth-shattering, just one little observation. You see, my doubts were sufficient to prompt me to take a good long look at the carpets they were bringing from Kettari. I’d stake my life on it that they smell faintly of True Magic, although they were made without resorting to it. Nevertheless, you know, it is strange. Until now I’ve been able to sense its presence in a person when he was up to his knees in mystery, even if he didn’t suspect it himself. As it was in your case, Max. But things, inanimate objects? I had never encountered anything like that before.”

“But what about Sir Maba Kalox’s house? It’s so shrouded in mystery it’s hard to find it. A house is an inanimate object, isn’t it? Or have I got it wrong again?”

“No, you’re absolutely right. And you’ve proven yet again that I’ve hit upon the best solution to a small but compelling problem.”

“And what might that be?” I asked him, even though my heart, thudding desperately inside my ribcage, already knew the answer. Juffin nodded.

“I see you already understand, Max. Yes, you’re going to Kettari. You’ll join a caravan and take a look at what’s going on there. If it all comes to naught, you can at least bring back a carpet; you need to make your new apartment a bit more homey. In any case, since it’s better for me not to show my face there, why not send you? All things considered, it amounts to the same thing.”

“‘The same thing,’ that’s a good one! Of course, I’m ready to go anytime, but it doesn’t make much sense for me to go there.”

“What makes you so sure? Mysteries love novices, especially fine ones like you. Aging wisemen like me should sit at home thinking deep thoughts. In short, I decided long ago that this case is just made for you. I never dreamed that you’d be so willing, though. Oh, and by the way, I don’t think it will be too dangerous.”

“I’ve heard that one before! When you sent me to Xolomi to deal with the stumpy-legged ghost, you were also sure that I would manage with no trouble at all.”

“What do you mean? You managed beautifully, just as I predicted.”

“I just about spoiled everything! Twice running.”

“‘Just about’ doesn’t count, Max. You acted quickly, and almost all your decisions were sound. Don’t you think that for a person who has lived in the World just a hundred days or so that’s nearly impossible?”

“Melifaro once came up with a theory about my origins,” I recalled. “He suggested that I was a Mutinous Magician who lost his memory after you whacked me upside the head, as it were. Are you sure nothing like that happened, sir?”

Juffin was delighted with this hypothesis. I let him have a good laugh, then went on.

“You know I don’t object to danger, especially now. But please explain to me, in the name of all Magicians, why are you so sure that this trip won’t be dangerous? Are your feelings about it propitious?”

“Yes, that too. But there’s more to it. I’ve already spoken about Kettari to Maba Kalox. He is no doubt aware of what is happening, but he’s beating about the bush. Maba has his own ideas about things, as you know. He assured me that whatever was happening in Kettari didn’t threaten the World, and could in fact be considered a ‘joyous event.’ Then again, Maba has his own notions about such things. By the way, he is thrilled that you’re going there. I wish I knew why. Come what may, I must learn all the details of this story. My curiosity has always taken precedence over my sense of duty, and in the case of Kettari, both these factors come into play. But the most important consideration is that I’ve found an excellent pretext for making your already-difficult life a little harder. What do you say, Max?”

“I can’t tell you how happy you’re making me. But what about the ‘old sheriff of Kettari’—that Sir Mackie Ainti the ‘voices’ were talking about? You yourself used to be the sheriff of Kettari. Did you change your name or something, Juffin?”

“Me? In the name of Magicians, of course not! I succeeded him as sheriff. In the beginning old Mackie was my boss. And much more than just a boss. If they ask you in three hundred years ‘Who was Juffin Hully?’ and you’re in the mood to talk, you’ll probably say the same things about me that I would tell you about Sir Mackie. He didn’t drag me out of another world, though. That’s the difference between you and me.”

I stared at Juffin. So this Sir Mackie Ainti taught my boss all the inscrutable things that go by the name of Invisible or True Magic? I wondered. The boss nodded. The question that was on the tip of my tongue was no secret to him. This instant mutual comprehension sent a thrill up and down my spine.

“I might add that the old man really did disappear about four hundred years ago. That is to say, he didn’t disappear, but just up and left Kettari, saying goodbye to me in these words: ‘It’s time for you to have a bit of fun, Juffin—only don’t even think about sending me a call. For your own sake.’ Mackie was never distinguished by garrulousness; not like yours truly. So thank the Dark Magicians, Max—you didn’t end up with the worst mentor in the World.”

“I already do thank them, on a daily basis. They’re probably sick of hearing from me by now,” I said, smiling. “So when do I leave, Juffin?”

“Caravans to Kettari form once every two dozen days. The next one leaves about four days from now, if I’m not mistaken. I hope everything will be ready for your departure by then.”

“Everything?” I asked in surprise. “What is there to get ready? Or haven’t you finished yet?”

“I’ve hardly begun. First, you’re not to go alone. Don’t even think of arguing that point. It’s not just some idiosyncrasy of mine. It’s a rule.”

“I wouldn’t think of arguing. Who’s going with me?”

“I’d like to hear your suggestions first.”

“I’m a creature of habit. If I’m going to set out for who knows where and who knows why, I want Lonli-Lokli by my side. I’ve tried it once, and I like it. But who will strike the fear of the Magicians into the bad guys of the Capital if both of us high-tail it out of Echo at the same time?”

“Don’t worry, Max,” Juffin grinned. “You’ve never seen me in action. I’ve become lazy with both of you around, but even I can come out of hibernation if need be. And it’s time to shake some of the fat off Sir Kofa.”

“You can say that again. I must admit, it never occurred to me that you might want to come out of hibernation. So you don’t object to Lonli-Lokli as my traveling companion?”

“Object? Those were my thoughts exactly. Only curiosity prevailed. I wanted to find out whether you’d guess where my sympathies lay, or whether you’d slip up this time and land in a puddle. Congratulations!”

“I assume that Shurf and I will have to disguise ourselves. The whole city recognizes us at a glance. I’m sure no one wants to go to Kettari in the company of two professional killers from the Secret Investigative Force.” I glanced at Juffin. “Did I land in a puddle?”

“Not yet. Keep going, Max.”

“It won’t be a problem for me,” I said confidently. “But how will Shurf pull it off? He’s so conspicuous. I guess Sir Kofa is our only hope.”

“Plop!”

I looked at the chief, stunned, then burst out laughing.

“Oh, you mean I fell in the puddle after all?”

“You sure did.” Juffin was beaming. “How modest you are, Sir Max. If there is to be a problem with anyone, it’s going to be with you. You don’t seem to be very observant. Praise be the Magicians, Shurf has an extremely inconspicuous appearance. The city is full of fellows just like him! Change the color of his hair, dress him in something bright and colorful instead of his white looxi, take off his gloves—and even you won’t recognize him. And there are plenty of tall people in the World.”

“All the better. But why should I have problems disguising myself? Do I have an unusual face or something?”

“To tell the truth, your face really is unusual. Have you ever seen anyone in Echo who could be mistaken for your brother?”

I was somewhat abashed. In fact, I had never paid any attention to such matters.

“You’re a rare bird in these parts. But that’s not the problem. Sir Kofa can transform your face into anything that strikes his fancy. The problem is your accent, Max.”

“Do I really—” I blushed.

“Yes, you do. You’re the only one who doesn’t notice it. And half the city already knows that only the ‘fearsome Sir Max, wrapped in his Mantle of Death’ speaks in such an abrupt and choppy manner. They’ll see through your disguise, however you might dress up. I won’t even mention your Silent Speech—sometimes it’s downright difficult to understand you.”

“But what will I do? Feign muteness?”

“Mute people use Silent Speech better than anyone. It’s the only way they can communicate. But don’t despair, Sir Max. We’ll turn you into an elegant damsel.”

“A damsel? Elegant? Me?!” My astonishment knew no bounds.

“Why are you so surprised? Sir Kofa will do some work on your face and voice, pick out a wig for you . . . It’s all quite simple.”

“I’ll become the laughing stock of the House by the Bridge this season!” I wailed. “Juffin, just what kind of damsel would I make?”

“A tall, skinny, and fairly broad-shouldered one. Perhaps not the type that appeals most to men, but that’s Lonli-Lokli’s problem. He’ll just have to travel with an ugly wife.”

“A wife! Surely you’re joking!” I was on the verge of tears.

“What’s gotten into you, Max?” the chief asked. “Of course you will pass yourselves off as a married couple. Married couples are the most frequent travelers to Kettari. They mix the pleasant with the practical; the purchase of carpets with shared relaxation and rest. If a woman with an accent like yours joins the caravan, everyone just assumes she’s from your part of the World. Why shouldn’t an upright citizen marry a lady from the Barren Lands? In Echo we love the exotic. You won’t inspire any doubts, and everything will work out just fine. And don’t look at me like I’m an executioner. Why are you so alarmed?”

I couldn’t explain why myself. Most likely, some slumbering prejudices had been awakened in me. If a man dressed up in women’s clothes, it meant he had some issues. Although the clothes themselves wouldn’t really pose a problem, I considered. In Echo the attire of men and women is so similar, the differences so minimal, that I still couldn’t distinguish a woman’s looxi from a man’s at that point.

“I don’t know what to say. I just feel rather awkward.”

“I see nothing in the least awkward about it. Good night, Sir Kofa.”

I turned around to look. There in the doorway was Sir Kofa Yox, our Master Eavesdropper, and the unsurpassed master of masquerade. He was carrying a sizable parcel.

“This sweet lad does not want to become a girl at all,” Juffin told him in a thin voice. “What do you think, Kofa, shall we overpower him, just the two of us, or call for assistance?”

Sir Kofa bestowed a patronizing smile on us both and hoisted his burden onto the table.

“Are you going to do it right now?” I asked plaintively. “Maybe you’ll let me go out for a little walk first?”

I was always assaulted by thoughts like this in the dentist’s chair. I wanted to dash off and come back “tomorrow”—that is to say, never.

“You’ve had your little walk,” said Juffin. “Listen, Max, it’s just ordinary dressing up. Like a carnival! Haven’t you ever been to a carnival?”

“Yes,” I grumbled. “I was six years old, and I dressed up like a rabbit.”

My colleagues hooted with laughter.

“A rabbit? At a carnival? In the Barren Lands!” Sir Kofa moaned. “Boy, do you ever think before you speak?”

I couldn’t help laughing myself.

“All right, come off it, Kofa. I really don’t have much experience of carnivals, so . . .”

“That’s better,” said Juffin. “Say, maybe you thought that we were going to turn you into a real woman? And that you’d have to fulfill your marital duties?”

“It wouldn’t have surprised me.”

“Don’t worry, son. For one thing, although making a woman out of a man and vice-versa is possible, Kofa and I aren’t powerful enough wizards to accomplish it. Sir Maba probably could, though. Well, no; even that’s unlikely. Why would he want to? I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Sotofa could manage it. I’ll have to ask her.”

“And another thing; Sir Lonli-Lokli would never cheat on his wife with such a skinny, broad-shouldered alien. Praise be the Magicians, Shurf’s got sense when it comes to women.”

“What nonsense you’re talking, Juffin! Why ‘skinny’ and ‘broad-shouldered’? We’re going to end up with a very pretty girl, you’ll see,” Sir Kofa objected with the air of expert whose pride had been hurt.

He was already unpacking his parcel. I looked with horror as he pulled out some reddish curls—my future wig, no doubt! Juffin saw the expression on my face and burst out laughing again.

“We decided to do this early so you’d have time to get used to it,” Sir Kofa said compassionately. “I’ve dressed up as a woman many times. Oh, yes, you remember our first meeting at the Glutton! You see, women have a different bearing and posture, different gestures. They respond to things differently. Four days isn’t much, but you’re a quick learner. If anything, you’ll just pass for a damsel with a few eccentricities. And don’t worry, all the changes in your appearance are only temporary. By the way, Juffin, how long will he have to be in Kettari? I need to know.”

“Let me think. The journey there takes three days. In Kettari the caravan usually stops for six or seven days. Maybe that won’t be enough. It will be necessary to stay and wait for the next caravan—that’s two more dozen days. And then there’s the return trip. Yes, Kofa, I think the spell will have to last for four dozen days. Better to have some extra than not enough.”

“Four dozen days?” I moaned. “And what if we get back sooner? What will I do looking like that?”

“You will work, Max! What does it matter what kind of face is hiding under the Mantle of Death?” said Juffin with a shrug. “Just wait, you’ll end up liking it.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will. I can just imagine how Melifaro’s going to enjoy this. He’ll laugh like he’s never laughed before.”

“Why are you so sure that anyone will laugh at you?” Juffin asked. “Is that another pleasant custom from your native land?”

I nodded. “Do you mean to say that in Echo things like that aren’t considered funny?”

“Sir Kofa just reminded you that he often dresses up like a woman. Have you ever heard anyone joke about it? Even Melifaro?”

“No.”

I was forced to admit that nothing of the sort had ever happened in my presence. Only the very unobservant weren’t amused now and then by Sir Kofa’s appetite, but they viewed his dressing up as something he did in the line of duty. Work is, simply, work. I had again been caught out, measuring other people’s looxis by my own yardstick.

“All right, take your clothes off,” Kofa commanded. “There are likely to be some problems with your figure, so let’s start with the most difficult thing. The face won’t need more than a minute.”

“Undress all the way?” I asked in confusion.

“Of course all the way,” Juffin said. “Haven’t you ever gone to the wiseman?”

“Almost never, praise be the Magicians! I’m afraid of them.”

“What is there to be afraid of?” Sir Kofa asked in surprise. “Wisemen help us get to know our own bodies. That’s why their manner is so kind and mild. It’s an absolute pleasure to deal with them!”

“Oh, you don’t know our wisemen. They’ll cut you into tiny pieces, and then figure that it’s easier to bury you than put you back together.”

“A hole in the heavens above you, Sir Max—what kind of place is it, your homeland?” Juffin shook his head in wonder as he had done so many times before. “All right, do as you’re told. And you, Kofa, lock the door, or an ill wind might blow someone else our way.”

“The World will see the severe working methods of the Secret Investigative Force and shudder,” I said under my breath, unwrapping my looxi.

I stood immobile in the center of the room for almost an hour, while Kofa diligently massaged the air around my body. He didn’t touch me; but the sensation was pleasant all the same.

“That should do it, Max. Think about how you want to be addressed, by the way. You’ll need a good woman’s name.”

I looked myself over warily. Everything was just as it was supposed to be—unchanged. My hips were no broader, my bust hadn’t blossomed.

“It’s not a real woman’s body,” Sir Kofa said, smiling. “It’s simply an illusion—but an excellent one! Get dressed and you’ll see what I mean. No, you can’t wear that!”

Confused, I laid my skaba back on the arm of the chair.

“Take a look at what I brought, over there on the table. They’re all the latest style. The fashion victims of the Capital will be green with envy.”

I dug around in the pile of multihued rags, pulled out a dark green skaba, and quickly put it on.

“Wow!”

It was the only thing I could say. The delicate fabric outlined the tender curves of some unfamiliar female body. Juffin looked at Kofa in delight.

“It’s perfect! Far better than I could have imagined. Well, keep going—such a sweet lady, with such an unbecoming stubble. It’s painful to look at. You could shave once in a while, Sir Max!”

“I did shave. Yesterday.” I rubbed my chin. “You call that stubble?”

“Never mind, Max. You won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Sir Kofa said, lathering some black muck on my bewildered face. “There we go! This stuff lasts even longer than you’ll need it to.”

“That’s the best news since the culinary amendments to the Code. Do I rinse it off now or should I wait a while?”

“Why should you wait? There’s nothing to rinse,” Kofa said in surprise as he fitted a light red wig on my head. The long curls instantly started to tickle my shoulders.

“No, it disappeared along with the stubble. I’m a sorcerer, after all, not a barber! And don’t even think of trying to remove the wig. It’ll hurt. Now it’s your own hair—for a while. Sit down in the chair, lady. I’m almost done.”

I had to endure a five-minute facial massage, which was rather unpleasant this time. My nose had an especially hard time of it. I was sure the poor thing would turn red and puffy after such treatment. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I suffered through it bravely.

“Done,” Sir Kofa Yox said, and gave a weary sigh. “Juffin, do we have anything to drink? I haven’t sweated like that in a long time.”

“It’s brilliant, Kofa!” Sir Juffin exclaimed, staring at me. “Who would have thought? Even if this lovely lady goes to the middle of the Victory of King Gurig VII Square and starts shouting at the top of her lungs that her name is Max, they’ll just have a good laugh, and there the matter will end. I’ll have someone bring us all something to drink. And not only drink: it’s a sin not to celebrate on such an occasion! Put on your looxi, Sir Max. Come admire the work of an old pro. You’ll like it, I promise!”

I wrapped myself in a patterned looxi the color of river sand with a feeling of trepidation. Who would be looking back at me from the large mirror in the corridor?

“Not like that, lady,” Kofa warned me. “Women never pin up the hem of their looxi. They just drape it over their shoulder. And they’re quite right to do so—it’s simple and elegant that way. All right now, let’s see you walk.”

I strolled through the office obediently.

“Hm. We’ll have to do something about your gait. It spoils everything,” Kofa said. “Fine, go admire yourself. Get used to it, and then we’ll teach you how to walk.”

“What about the turban?”

“That isn’t absolutely necessary. Girls with such abundant hair prefer not to cover their heads, especially if they’ve come from afar. And you’ve come from afar, lady, judging by your accent. Come on, step up to the mirror. How shall we name our girl, Juffin?”

“Let him choose,” said Juffin. “This poor fellow will have to decide something on his own, at least. What do you say, lady?”

“Marilyn Monroe!” I bellowed, and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Juffin asked. “It’s a pretty name. Sounds foreign, but that’s good. Wait a minute—is it some kind of rude curse?”

“Well, almost,” I said, deciding not to go into detail on the matter.

I made my way down the corridor, my heart in my throat. I approached the mirror, gathered all my courage, and stared at the revealing surface, darkened by time. There, gazing at me with unfeigned curiosity, was a tall, nicely dressed lady, very much to my taste.

I peered into her pleasant face, hoping to discover even the slightest resemblance to myself. Not even a hint of the old Max remained. I walked back and forth, not taking my eyes off the mirror. Yes, the lady was a bit angular. What’s true is true! It started to seem funny to me; my head began to spin. When the elegant lady in the mirror broke into a loud guffaw, I felt like I might just lose my mind. I returned to the office. My senior colleagues were already setting the table.

“It’s a shame to give such a beauty to Lonli-Lokli,” I objected. “He won’t be able to appreciate her, anyway. You’re a genius, Kofa. I love her! I mean, me.”

“Oh, yes, I completely forgot about the voice,” sir Kofa said. “Drink this down, Lady Marilyn.”

He handed me a small vial with some suspicious-looking blue liquid. I sniffed it daintily, took a deep breath, and drank it down. Not too bad—something akin to dry sherry, only not very hot.

“And you have nothing else to offer—”

I broke off suddenly. Now my voice had become someone else’s, too—not a squeak as I had feared, rather a fairly low, husky voice—but definitely a woman’s.

“Take it, boy,” Sir Kofa said, and held out a mug of Jubatic Juice to me. “You really do need a drink.”

After a few gulps of the tasty drink with its kick-boxing strength, I perked up. I think the source of my good mood lay in the dark depths of this unprecedented madness. My good friend Sir Max, the Nocturnal Representative of Juffin Hully, had been transformed into some red-haired girl entirely too quickly.

“You’ll have to work on your mannerisms, lady,” said Juffin. “You still look more like the village idiot than the wife of a prosperous member of society.”

“Mannerisms? Now wait one second!”

I jumped up and sashayed around the room provocatively. Then I pursed my lips for a kiss.

“How do you like me, gentlemen?”

Sir Kofa looked crestfallen. He didn’t say a word.

“How awful, Max!” Juffin blurted out. “Is that really customary in your homeland?”

I went back to my chair.

“Not really. Not always, anyway.” I became more composed. “That’s how dissolute women behave; and only on occasion.”

“All the same, it’s hideous! I think you owe me more than a good meal for pulling you out of there in time.”

“What do you mean, ‘in time’? If only you had been about ten years earlier.”

“I’m not sure that would have been wise. Someday I’ll explain why. You must be worn out, Kofa,” Sir Juffin said compassionately to our Master Eavesdropper.

The latter just chewed his pie with a melancholy air.

“Praise be the Magicians, one doesn’t have to perform tricks like that every day. And now I have to try teaching this lady some manners.”

“Don’t bother, Kofa. We’ll manage. The situation is almost hopeless, but I have another idea.”

“You’re right, Juffin. I do think you’re going to need a good miracle.”

“Excellent. You and Kurush just nod off for a while, and Max and I will go for a walk. Come on, Max . . . Uh, I beg your pardon. Lady Marilyn.”

“I am not nodding off. I’m memorizing what you’re saying,” the wise bird piped up. “I always knew people were strange creatures, but what I’ve seen today beats all.”

“That’s for sure,” Juffin snorted, smoothing down the buriwok’s soft feathers as we left the office.

“Where are we going?” I asked, getting into the amobiler.

“Can’t you guess? I know only one old lady capable of making a real lady out of this crazy dame.”

“Are we going to Jafax?” I asked. “To Lady Sotofa?”

“Yes. I’ve already sent her a call. She’s also from Kettari, after all, so it’s a matter of concern to her, as well. Sotofa was surprisingly quick to agree to help us. Actually, it’s not her style, but she seems to have a soft spot for you.”

“And that is completely mutual.”

“Then let’s go, Lady Marilyn.”

Lady Sotofa met us at the door of a small garden pavilion that served as her study.

“Oh, what a pretty girl! Too bad she’s not the real thing. If she was, I’d bring her here to live!” she said smiling, and hugged me.

I was, as usual, a bit flustered. I felt that no one had ever been so unabashedly delighted about a visit from me as this formidable wisewoman with the mannerisms of a doting grandmother.

“Sit down, Juffin! Remember the kamra they used to make five hundred years ago in Kettari, in the Country Home on the Square of Joy? Well, I managed to make it even worse. Try it. You’ll approve! And for you, my girl-boy, I have something very special.”

Lady Sotofa produced a miniature jug from under her looxi. Its appearance witnessed to origins deep in the ancient forest.

“It’s delicious and very good for you, in some cases.”

“You haven’t found some Heavenly Half, have you, Sotofa?” Juffin shook his head in amazement. “I haven’t laid eyes on it in at least three hundred years!”

“What use is it to you, Juffin?” Lady Sotofa retorted, her laughter ringing out. “It’s all the better you haven’t. And if you haven’t seen it, no one else has, either. Things like this should be secreted away in the dark. But do sit down, Max. No, not at the table. Over here in the armchair. It’s more comfortable. Here you are!” She held out a glass with some thick, dark-red liquid. She thought a bit, then nodded. “Yes, one’s enough. It’s better not to go overboard with such things.”

I took the small glass obediently and sipped it. It really was delicious, almost as good as Elixir of Kaxar.

“Look at that, he’s drinking it,” Juffin said gruffly. “With me he would have asked a thousand questions to make sure it wasn’t poison.”

“Good boy. I’d ask a thousand questions myself before accepting a potion from your hands, Juffin, you sly old fox,” Lady Sotofa said gaily.

Sir Juffin Hully looked quite satisfied.

“And now, you can just relax,” Lady Sotofa said. “I can explain to you the properties of what I just gave you to drink. I don’t mind. You know, back in the good old days, they gave Heavenly Half to the mad.”

“Thank you, Lady Sotofa,” I mumbled gloomily. “That’s a comfort.”

“Hear me out, silly.” The good nature of the fearsome sorceress was inexhaustible. “They gave this potion to the mad, and the poor things immediately regained their senses. That’s why it’s called Heavenly Half —it was thought that the drug would help the mad find the half of their souls that was groping about in the dark. This continued until one wise person discovered that these unhappy creatures hadn’t really become healthy and whole, but only seemed so. In fact, their tormented souls remained who-knows-where. Do you understand?”

I shook my head sadly.

“Never mind. Such are your years. It will come with time. Now you’ll sleep a bit, and when you wake up, you’ll be the same old silly Sir Max. But you’ll behave like a true lady. You’ll stay just as you are, but people will think they are in the presence of a completely different person. To be honest, it’s not a very good potion, boy, for if people want to seem different from how they really are, they must make an effort themselves. And wonder-working concoctions dissipate the spirit. But just this once, for a good cause, it won’t hurt, I suppose. I don’t think you’ll find it necessary to study to be a real woman. You’re very good at it already!”

“Thank you, Lady Sotofa. You’re the only one in the World who loves and compliments me . . .” I murmured, dozing off.

“Hush, and go to sleep. Don’t try to fight slumber, or everything will come to naught! You see, wondrous things prefer to happen when a person sleeps. That’s the way things are arranged.”

Lady Sotofa covered me with a fur blanket and turned to my chief.

“Have we really found some time to talk at long last? You don’t have to rush off anywhere?”

Through a haze of sleep, I noticed that Juffin tapped the end of his nose twice with the forefinger of his right hand, the famous Kettarian gesture. Well, well . . .

When I woke up, it was already light. The beaming Lady Sotofa sat by my side and peered at my face with interest.

“Goodness, Max, you’ve been asleep for so long.” Her smile grew even wider. “Where did you learn that?”

“It’s an innate talent,” I replied in a strange, velvety voice.

I didn’t experience any emotional reaction, which couldn’t help but make me happy. I realized that Lady Sotofa and I were now alone. Had the chief really abandoned me in Jafax? He would do that.

“Where’s Juffin?”

“Home or on duty, I don’t know. I didn’t try to find out. Do you know how long you’ve slept? Juffin and I like to wag our tongues, of course, but in the time you’ve been asleep, we could have discussed all the causes of the origin of the Universe, which isn’t terribly entertaining.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“More than twenty-four hours, Max. That did surprise me.”

“Wow! Juffin’s going to tear my head off!”

“Of course, he could do much worse, that awful Juffin. But I don’t think anyone intends to tear anything off you in the near future. Take it from an old soothsayer.”

“All the same, I’ve got to run,” I said anxiously. “I have to leave tomorrow . . . or the day after tomorrow. I don’t know.”

“Of course you must leave, boy,” Lady Sotofa said, nodding. “But first you have to bathe, and if there’s time, I’ll whip you up some kamra. I hate fussing around with the brazier, but I’ll make an effort for your sake.”

I smiled.

“You spoil me, Lady Sotofa.”

“Of course I do. Someone has to. The bathroom is downstairs, just where it should be. Nothing newfangled or out-of-the-ordinary around here, boy.”

“And I thought it might be in some other World altogether!” I shouted on my way downstairs.

“One doesn’t exclude the other,” Lady Sotofa called after me.

In the bathroom, I immediately started scrutinizing myself in the mirror. Yes, Lady Marilyn Monroe was no longer angular, thanks to Lady Sotofa and her Heavenly Half! I couldn’t take any credit, that was certain.

The illusion was so convincing that I undressed almost with a feeling of panic. Under the skaba, however, I discovered my own body. I sighed with relief and began to wash.

I ran back upstairs in leaps and bounds, from a surfeit of energy. Sleeping for more than twenty-four hours in a chair, and feeling so good afterwards—that is magic of a higher order!

The plump, gray-haired old woman, undoubtedly one of the most powerful beings in this World, was waiting for me at the table.

“Here’s the kamra, and here are some cookies. That’s all there is. But you don’t like having a real breakfast.”

I nodded.

“You know that, too!”

“It’s no mystery to me. You’re too young to have secrets from me, boy.”

“You frighten me. To know everything about me—that’s scary.”

“There’s nothing in the least scary about it, Max. On the contrary, it’s all very sweet. Even your dark past in some, please excuse me, insane place.”

“I completely agree with you that it is insane. Perhaps you might mend my broken heart, Lady Sotofa? That sadist Juffin claims that I have to learn to deal with all these misfortunes on my own. But I’m not managing too well.”

“Good gracious, me. What kinds of misfortunes can you possibly have? All your sorrows are like summer snow: now it’s here, now it’s gone, as though it never was. Just don’t bury your nose in the past all the time or keep dreaming of the future. Today you’re in masquerade. You should enjoy it!”

They were only words, but I felt as relieved as I had when Juffin had tweaked my ear.

Yes, what kinds of sorrows can you have, friend? I said to myself. You ran away from a place where you felt miserable, and ended up in the best of all Worlds, surrounded on all sides by marvelous people who do nothing but try to share their wisdom with you and treat you to delicious delicacies the rest of the time. And you just whine and complain, you ungrateful swine!

“Lady Sotofa, you are truly the best of women,” I said.

“Of course I am. And a great beauty, besides, if you’d care to know.”

“I can imagine,” I said. “I’d like to peek into the past, to get a glimpse of you in your merry youth!”

“To see how that crazy Juffin chased after me, brandishing a warrant for my arrest after I refused to leave the city with him? Well, fine, since now we can have a ‘girl to girl’ chat, I can boast a bit. Watch out, though! Make sure you don’t fall in love—you’ll fare worse with me than you did with Kima’s niece.”

And before I had a chance to register what she had just said, she jumped up and began swinging her arms in circles with astonishing speed. I couldn’t make anything out—only her hands flickering and flashing before my eyes.

“Well, what do you think?”

By then I had already been fairly showered with wonders, and had begun to think I would never again react with my former passion and fervor. But now, standing before me, I saw a petite young beauty. Rooted to the spot, I inhaled spasmodically. Exhaling proved to be problematic, however. The fantastic Lady Sotofa patted me on the back absently.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that scary.”

Somehow managing to breathe out, I closed my mouth and stared at this vision. She was the one who had the famous figure of Marilyn Monroe—whose name I had so carelessly appropriated. Lady Sotofa, however, was a dark brunette with almond-shaped green eyes tilting slightly upward toward her temples, and snow-white skin.

“Please go back to the way you were!” I was nearly overcome with the turmoil of my emotions. “But why don’t you—”

“Why don’t I always look like this? Of what use is it? So one of the young Magicians of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover might dream about pinching my behind at night? That holds no interest for me anymore, and I would just feel sorry for them, the silly men.”

Lady Sotofa again carried out her strange aerobic exercises, only this time her arms gyrated in the opposite direction.

“I think it’s really time you got back to the House by the Bridge.”

The smiling, plump old lady placed her warm and heavy palm on my shoulder. I nodded. I didn’t feel like talking. I had received a small miracle, and a fragile little piece of the odd wisdom of the women of the Seven-Leaf Clover into the bargain.

“Don’t be sad, Lady Marilyn. You’re pretty, too!” Lady Sotofa’s joyful laughter followed me. “Promise me that you will try to enjoy your adventure. Agreed?”

“I promise!”

And Lady Marilyn Monroe set off for work. Along the way, I stopped in at the first jeweler’s I came to and bought several expensive rings. Let’s make ourselves happy, sister! I had begun to make friends with my new persona.

I entered the House by the Bridge through the Secret Door, as was my habit. Only afterwards did I realize that could seriously blow my cover. Luckily, no one noticed my blunder. In fact, there was no one to be seen, either outside or in the corridor.

Juffin’s call reached me when I was already in our half of the Ministry.

It’s good you woke up, Max. Better late than never. I’ll be there in no time—I want to see what’s become of you. Melamori and I are on the trail of a very attractive poisoner. Nothing too serious, but I don’t like to let her go alone on excursions like this.

You’re absolutely right, I concurred.

I was happy for Melamori: on the job, and out of danger. That’s how it should be.

I don’t need you to tell me I’m right, son! Sir Juffin Hully snapped back at me. Over and out already!

A genuine idyll reigned in our office. Melifaro was sitting in state on the desk, his legs crossed, still as a statue. So that’s what he’s like when nobody’s there to see him, I thought.

When he noticed me—or rather the fetching Lady Marilyn—he started up, flitted from his pedestal, and stared at my new face with such undisguised admiration that I realized right away: here it is, Marilyn’s and my finest hour!

A crazy notion took hold of me.

Lady Sotofa had urged me to “enjoy the adventure,” and one must obey one’s elders.

“What seems to be the problem, my lady?” Melifaro inquired with tender sympathy.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marilyn and I vowed: come what may, just don’t laugh and spoil everything.

“Nothing, praise be the Magicians,” I smiled shyly. “Father asked me to visit this place and convey his gratitude to Sir Max and one other gentleman. I think his papa wrote some important book. Oh yes, of course: Sir Mefiliaro!”

“Melifaro,” the Diurnal Representative of the Venerable Head corrected me gallantly. “That would be me, my lady. But tell me, who is your father, and why did he wish to thank us?”

“I’m afraid you aren’t very friendly toward my father. Nevertheless, he owes you his life. My name is Lady Marilyn Box.”

“You’re General Boboota’s daughter?!” Melifaro was flabbergasted. “Sinning Magicians, why haven’t I seen you here before?”

“I just recently arrived here in the Capital. Just after I was born, during the Troubled Times, Father sent me to relatives in the County Vook. My mother wasn’t his wife, you see, but my father always took care of me. After my mother died, he persuaded Lady Box to adopt me officially. Papa has a difficult character, I know, but he’s a very good person.”

“And very brave!” Melifaro praised him enthusiastically. “Your father is a real hero of the War for the Code. So don’t pay any attention to stupid rumors, Lady Marilyn. I for one respect your daddy very much.”

Inside, I was howling with glee, Sir Melifaro respects General Boboota very much. How was the poor guy going to look me in the eye after this?

“Yes, my papa is like that. Crude, but sincere” Marilyn said. “Unfortunately, he’s still very ill.”

That was no fabrication. The adventure with the King Banjee pâté had put the scandalously famous General of the City Police out of commission for a long time. I went on:

“But father doesn’t want you to think he’s ungrateful, so he asked me to come here and find Sir Max. And you, of course.”

I fished out one of my newly purchased rings and gave it to Melifaro.

“This is for you, Sir Mefilaro, as a token of friendship and gratitude.”

Melifaro admired the ring, and immediately tried to put it on. Oh, of course; my hands must be daintier than they used to be. My poor friend could only wear the ring on his left pinkie, and that with difficulty.

“Tell me, do you think I could see Sir Max?” Lady Marilyn asked dreamily.

Melifaro grew fidgety. It was truly a sight to behold! He came right up to me, put his hand on my shoulder, leaned close to my face, and informed me in a conspiratorial tone:

“You know, Sir Max isn’t here now. I’m not sure whether he’ll be coming back any time soon. And, really, it’s for the best. I wouldn’t advise you to meet him.”

Things were getting more and more interesting.

Could I really compete with his Hollywood looks, I wondered, brightening when I realized he was actually worried.

“But why, sir?” Lady Marilyn and I tried to appear very naïve. We opened our mouth childishly and batted our lashes.

“It would be very dangerous,” Melifaro confided. “Our Sir Max is a terrifying creature. You know they even made him wear the Mantle of Death. Can you imagine?”

“But Father said—” I began timidly.

“Your father is very sick, my lady. Moreover, he’s under the sway of his gratitude. I’m sure if it weren’t for the circumstances, he would never have allowed you to meet this terrible person. You know, Sir Max does nothing but kill people day in and day out. And not just criminals. The poor fellow can’t control himself. Just two days ago he spat poison at a lady as sweet as you! He was under the impression she was speaking to him disrespectfully.”

“Why didn’t they lock him up in Xolomi?” I asked, trying with all my might not to laugh.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it, lady. It’s all due to the intrigues of Sir Juffin Hully, our Venerable Head. Sir Max is his favorite, and the chief always protects him. If you only knew how many corpses of innocent people they have burned in this very office! I’m a brave man, I like to take risks—that’s the only reason I haven’t resigned from duty. My colleagues, every one of them, are asking for voluntary retirement.”

Melifaro was on a roll. He told one fib after another, and couldn’t stop. I covered my face with my hands and tried to laugh soundlessly. For better or worse, I succeeded.

“What’s wrong, miss? Did I scare you?”

I nodded silently. Saying something out loud was more than I could manage. Another word and I would explode with laughter.

“Oh, but this is the Secret Investigative Force, the most fearsome outfit in the Unified Kingdom. Worse things can happen here, you know. Compared with Sir Juffin Hully, Sir Max is a puppy.”

Aha! I thought. It’s not enough that I’m a “cold-blooded killer”; now I’m a “puppy,” too. Oh, you’ll pay dearly for this, Sir Melifaro. You’ll pay for this with your life. To lie so brazenly to a poor country girl!

“I’m the only normal person in this office,” said Melifaro, putting his arm around me. “Why are you so upset? This is Echo, Capital of the Unified Kingdom. You must get used to it. But life in the Capital has its pleasant sides. And if I’ve upset you, I am obliged to rectify my mistake. Let me show you Echo by evening. I’ll treat you to a dinner you’re unlikely to get anywhere else. How about it?”

What a ladies’ man, I thought with contempt. Gosh, do women fall for such cheap tricks? Or does he think he’ll get away with it just because the girl is from County Vook?

I shook my head.

“I can’t, sir. We barely know each other.”

“But that’s what I’m suggesting, that we get to know each other better.”

Melifaro smiled disarmingly. “Honestly, miss, you’ll have a good time. I promise.”

Lady Marilyn and I smiled timidly. “Well, if you promise to behave—”

“Of course! I’ll call on you just after sundown,” said Melifaro, and glanced cautiously at the door.

Indeed, the arrival of potential rivals at this moment would have been undesirable. According to Melifaro’s way of thinking, the beautiful Lady Marilyn would now make haste away from the House by the Bridge to avoid meeting Sir Max, Mr. Bad Dream the baby-eater, to be out of harm’s way.

I slowly got up from the visitor’s chair and headed for the desk.

“I’d rather just wait here, Sir Fulumaro.”

I began rummaging silently through the desk drawer, until I produced an invisible bottle with some remains of Elixir of Kaxar.

“What are you doing, miss?” There was distinct note of panic in Melifaro’s voice.

I was probably taking a risk. This peace-loving fellow was as dangerous as anyone in our charming company. If he had taken me for some Mutinous Magician newly returned to Echo, the matter might have ended in a skirmish. But praise be the Magicians, the lovely red-haired Lady Marilyn was above suspicion.

I opened the bottle and took a tiny swallow. There was no need to do this—even without the Elixir I was able to turn the world upside down now. But Lady Marilyn and I wanted a little nip of something.

“What do you think you’re doing, Ms. Box?!” It was pitiful to look at Melifaro. “That’s Sir Juffin Hully’s desk. You can’t dig around in there!”

“I can,” I replied calmly. “We inhabitants of County Vook love snooping around in other people’s desks. Sometimes you can even find a bit of fresh horse dung. So, put that in your pipe and smoke it, Melifaro.”

Melifaro’s face fell. I seemed to have gone slightly overboard. I didn’t even want revenge anymore.

“Oh, come on, old friend,” I said softly. “Haven’t you ever been to a carnival?”

Melifaro, who was made of pretty stern stuff, took what was coming to him. He laughed nervously. I thought back on the conversation we had just had—and then it was no holds barred.

Sir Juffin Hully found us sitting on the floor locked in an embrace, tears of laughter streaming down our faces. We wheezed weakly, since we were already hoarse from laughing so hard.

“Max you were such a romantic boy,” the chief remarked acidly. “You were even too shy to go to the Quarter of Trysts. And what do I see here? All it took was for you to acquire a bust and to spend twenty-four hours in the company of Lady Sotofa—and you fall into the arms of a complete stranger.”

“Sir Juffin,” Melifaro moaned. “If you leave him like he is, I swear I’m going to marry him!”

“I won’t marry you, sir. You deceived me,” I said coquettishly. “Oh, Juffin, you should have heard him.”

Melifaro and I started howling with laughter again.

“What exactly has been going on here?” asked Juffin.

“Nothing I wouldn’t tell my mama,” I said. Now Sir Juffin joined in our laughter.

Fifteen minutes later, Melifaro and I had come to our senses and even found it possible to relate to Juffin the circumstances of our “acquaintance” with one another.

I had to hand it to Melifaro—he didn’t hesitate to recount his own idiocy in the most lurid colors.

“Well, Lady Marilyn, you’ve made some progress,” the chief said. “And who was so shocked by the prospect of turning into a woman two days ago?”

“I didn’t realize I’d be such a beauty. By the way, someone invited me out to dinner. You haven’t reconsidered, sir?” I said, winking at Melifaro.

“With a beauty like you, I’d go to the end of the world! Where will we go after dinner—your place or mine?”

“My place, naturally. My papa happens to be home. General Boboota, if you recall. He’ll tell you all about his military exploits. Sir Juffin, am I free this evening, or do we have a new lady colleague? Does the Mantle of Death look becoming on me, boys?” My new persona behaved much more frivolously than the old one.

“I don’t think a walk through the city would hurt you, Lady Marilyn. And you, Sir Melifaro, don’t lose your head over this flirt. The day after tomorrow she abandons you and sets off on her honeymoon with Sir Lonli-Lokli.”

Melifaro whistled under his breath, beginning to get the picture.

“So this is serious, gentlemen? And I thought—”

“That Max and I had lost our minds from boredom? Take your new girlfriend for a walk. And make sure she answers to her own name and doesn’t go into the men’s room by mistake.”

“I can assure you, everything’s in order in that department, judging from her recent performance,” Melifaro said. “What kind of life is this, Sir Juffin? As soon as you meet a nice girl, she turns out to be Mr. Bad Dream. And to top it off, she’s going to marry Lonli-Lokli! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“You? You’re made of iron, beyond the shadow of a doubt!” the chief consoled him. “Max—er, Lady Marilyn, I mean, Sir Shurf and I will be expecting you tomorrow at sundown. You probably won’t be going home again, so try to arrange all your affairs and pack. And don’t worry about your furry beasts. Our junior employees will soon be climbing all over each other, vying to be the ones to look after them.”

I grew a bit sad thinking of my poor kitties. What a ne’er-do-well they had for a master.

“I think Ella’s expecting kittens soon,” I said. “Future royal felines. Though she’s so fat already that you’d never know.”

“Oh, Max, if only I had your problems,” Juffin said. “Sir Melifaro, grab your heartthrob and be off. I have a meeting to attend with Mr. Poisoner.”

“You know, Lady Marilyn, with such a sweet little face and Mr. Bad Dream’s amusing tricks, you’d make an ideal wife,” Melifaro said, seating me in the amobiler.

“I’ll say,” I replied, and then decided to ask about something I never would have dared mention in my original state. “And what about Lady Melamori?”

“Lady Melamori mumbles your name in her sleep, if you must know. And she devotes the rest of her time to deep, long-winded monologues about the advantages of living alone. What happened between the two of you, I’d like to know? Perhaps Lady Marilyn likes to gossip?”

“Perhaps she does. Only nothing happened between us except fate. We met in the Quarter of Trysts, to my misfortune.”

“Oh, that happens,” Melifaro sighed sympathetically. Then he grinned from ear to ear. “On the other hand, if you become a real girl, my mother will get a chance to marry me off at last! And remember—I’ve never said anything like that to a girl before.”

“Thanks. But I’m not ready for family life just yet. Let’s go. You still owe me dinner.”

Three hours later, a full, happy, and slightly tipsy Lady Marilyn stopped her amobiler by the doors of Lady Melamori’s house. Her woman’s heart told me I should, so I didn’t try to argue. Not deliberating too long about my actions, I sent a call to Melamori.

It’s me, Max. Peek out for a second, I’m standing at the entrance. I can’t, Max. Melamori returned the call. Do you know what you’re doing? We can’t see each other for the time being. Until . . . until it feels right.

If I dragged myself here in the middle of the night, it’s probably not so that things between us would become even worse. Just take a look outside—then you can decide whether to let me in or not. I swear by Sir Juffin’s favorite pajamas that you won’t regret it. No one but me will ever surprise you like this again. I’m waiting.

Healthy curiosity proved stronger than her apprehension. In a minute, the tip of Melamori’s nose was poking out the door.

“Who are you?” she asked sharply. “And where is Sir Max? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Of course it’s a joke,” I smiled. “And a very good one, too, don’t you think?”

“You . . . What do you mean by that?”

“Try to get on my trail. All your doubts will disappear with the wave of a hand. Well, what are you waiting for?”

Melamori jumped out of her slippers quick as a flash, and in another flash she was standing at my back. A few seconds of constrained silence, and then a sharp intake of air.

“Oh, Sir Max, what’s happened?” she asked, her lips turning pale. “Did someone cast a spell on you?”

“Yep. It’s only for a while, though. I have to marry Lonli-Lokli right away. Shhhhh! It’s a deep, dark secret. Maybe you’ll let me come in after all?”

“I think it will be all right,” Melamori said, smiling. “Will you please explain to me what’s happening?”

“Of course I will. Two girls have to have a heart-to-heart chat about something. You know, I thought it would be hard for us to become friends, since . . . Well, you understand exactly what I mean. But being girls—it’s just right for a start. By the way, I’m Marilyn. I think it will be easier for you that way.”

“Oh yes, much easier.”

We went into the living room. Melamori suddenly began laughing in relief.

“Sit down, Lady Marilyn. It’s wonderful you’ve come! I wanted very much to see you.”

“Female intuition,” I grinned slyly. “It’s a formidable power. By the way, it tells me that you have some kind of souvenir from Uncle Kima around somewhere. What better time than now to let the drink flow freely? I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“Forever?” her voice expressed genuine anguish.

“Forever? Don’t get your hopes up. For a few dozen days in all.”

“Where?”

“To Kettari. Our chief succumbed to an attack of nostalgia and ordered us to dig up some cobblestones from the streets of his youth. Open your cache, sweetheart. When I have too much to drink, it will loosen my tongue and I’ll tell all. Honest I will.”

“Would you like to drink Gulp of Fate, Marilyn?” Melamori asked. I shuddered from the unexpectedness of it.

“Gulp of Fate? Hmm, it seems we’ve already tried that before.”

“I wonder where you could have tried that wine, Marilyn,” Melamori parried, as calm as ever. “It’s very rare.”

“It certainly is rare,” I laughed, feeling with surprise how the last heavy stone dropped from my heart. “Of course I’d like a drink. Who am I to refuse Gulp of Fate?”

“Wonderful.”

The ancient wine turned out to be dark, almost black, in color. Some hardly visible blue sparks played at the bottom of the glass.

“It’s a good sign, Marilyn,” Melamori said, tapping the edge of the glass with her finger. “Kima told me that these little flames appear only if the wine is being drunk by people who . . . how can I explain it. People between whom everything is right. Understand? Not ‘good,’ and not ‘bad,’ but right.”

“I think I do understand. Only I have another way of saying it: for real. Am I expressing myself properly?”

“If there’s one thing you and Max really know how to do, Marilyn, it’s express yourself ‘properly.’ Taste good?”

“You bet!”

“Then tell me your story. I can take an oath of silence if you wish.”

“I need no oath from you, Melamori. Just watch and listen. Lady Marilyn and I are real storytellers.”

And I narrated in great detail the story of the strange costume ball, with me starring as the beauty queen. Melifaro the lover was the hero of the finale.

“My goodness! I’ve never laughed so hard in my life!” Melamori said, wiping away tears. “Poor Melifaro. He has no luck with girls. You should have given him a chance, Marilyn. Where will you find another boy like him?”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll take your advice into consideration. Look, it’s already getting light! Will you have time to get some sleep?”

“Oh, I’ll just be late for work. No big deal. I’ll tell Sir Juffin that I was giving you lessons in feminine wiles.”

“Yes, those will come in handy, considering who my future life companion is supposed to be.” I struggled to get up from the low divan. “I’m going to go get some sleep, Melamori. It’s time you did, too. Better too little than none at all.”

“It doesn’t matter how much, but how you sleep . . . And today I’ll sleep like the dead. Thank you, Marilyn. Please tell Sir Max that it was an excellent idea.”

“I’ll tell him,” I yawned and waved to her. “Good morning, Melamori.”

I’d like to note that Marilyn also slept like the dead, which hadn’t been the case for a long time with my good old friend Max. This girl had a first-rate heart of stone, much more reliable than mine.

At sundown I reported to the House by the Bridge. I had a suitcase with me that accommodated a large bottle of Elixir of Kaxar, masses of clothes (Lady Marilyn enjoyed shopping), and my enchanted pillow—“Stopgap in the Chink between Worlds,” in the words of my greatest benefactor, Sir Maba Kalox. Whatever might happen, setting out for the unknown without my one and only miracle-method for getting a normal cigarette just wasn’t my style.

Sir Juffin Hully was chatting animatedly with some middle-aged, suntanned blond fellow in a light-blue and white looxi. He had the appearance of a sports coach: muscular arms, ruddy complexion, and a stern, unsmiling expression. Unwilling to interrupt their conversation, I sent my chief a call.

Are you busy, Juffin? Should I wait in the lobby?

“What do you mean, Lady Marilyn?” Juffin flashed a welcoming smile. “Did you think I had a visitor, Max? And who said we’d have a problem with Sir Shurf’s appearance? My compliments to both of you, boys. You make a perfect couple.”

“You look ravishing, Marilyn!” the unrecognizable Lonli-Lokli observed politely, rising to greet me, and (Oh, sinning Magicians!) considerately helping me to my seat.

“I must ask your forgiveness, Max, but from here on out I’ll be addressing you with various terms of endearment, since it’s customary between husband and wife.”

“There’s no need to ask my forgiveness. You can address me any way you like at any time, Shurf!”

“Now my name is Sir Glamma Eralga, dear Marilyn. Of course, you must simply call me Glamma.”

“Maybe we can just call each other by our regular names for the time being? It’s so disconcerting otherwise.”

“No, Sir Shurf is absolutely right. The sooner you get used to your new names the better. Later you’ll have bigger worries,” Juffin said.

What kinds of worries was he referring to, I would have liked to know?

I stared at Lonli-Lokli curiously. It was the first time I had seen him without his death-dealing gloves, which I tended to think of as his real hands. I knew, of course, that they weren’t. But the heart, which is stronger than reason, was certain that the shining hands were the real thing.

“Gosh, what’s wrong with your hands, Shurf? I mean, Glamma.”

“Nothing. If you are referring to my gloves, I have them with me, in the trunk. You don’t suppose, do you, dear Marilyn, that all citizens have gloves like that?”

“Of course I don’t, but I’ve never seen you without them, Shurf —er, dear!”

“Maybe this Shurf you speak of is still wearing them; your dearest Glamma, as you can see, is not.”

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I said laughing. “And what’s with your fingernails?”

“These are the first letters of the words of an ancient spell. Without them, the gloves would be lethal for me, too. I’m afraid I’ll have to wear these.” Lonli-Lokli showed me some elegant gloves made from the thinnest blue leather. “On the road they won’t attract attention, but when I dine, I anticipate they might arouse suspicion.”

“It doesn’t matter in the least. Any person can have eccentricities. Let people think that you’re squeamish, that you’re just afraid of germs.”

“Greetings, sugar pie,” said Melifaro, bursting into the office. “Well, have you considered the possibility of remaining a girl and accepting my proposal? My mama would be ecstatic,” he said, leaning on the armrest of my chair. “Our Loki-Lonki is much improved in appearance—but I’m still better-looking!”

“Sir Melifaro, stop soliciting my wife,” said the transformed Lonli-Lokli. “And please be so good as to learn my name, at least by the time I return. You’ve known me for years.”

“You got that?” I asked bitingly. “I’m no damsel in distress.”

It was Juffin who got the biggest kick out of our absurd and spirited repartee, which was just as it should be. He’s the boss, after all.

“Juffin, I hope you won’t object?” asked Sir Kofa Yox, the incomparable Master Eavesdropper cum Personal Cosmetologist, entering the office and clutching a sizable parcel to his chest. “You still have time to explain to these unfortunate boys what kind of hellish place they’re going to. You have the whole night ahead of you, and I have something extremely yummy to help pass the time.”

“When did I ever object to parties, Kofa?” Juffin rejoined. “But why did you bring all this with you? We could have just called for a courier to deliver it.”

“No way! I won’t entrust a matter like this to just anyone. Shutta Vax, one of the virtuoso cooks in the ancient style, has retired from the profession and cooks only for himself now. But when I asked him for seven Chakkatta Pies, he couldn’t refuse. We’re lucky—it appears that he’s the only one left who has the slightest idea how to make them.”

“Do you mean that, Kofa?” Juffin looked truly alarmed.

“It’s no joking matter. Ladies first, so get over here before I reconsider.”

Melamori didn’t wait for him to repeat the invitation.

“Good evening, Marilyn,” she greeted me, placing her hand affectionately on my shoulder. “It’s too bad you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“But if we weren’t leaving, there wouldn’t be any Chakkatta Pies,” I said. “It’s the law of natural compensation.”

“We’ve forgotten about poor Sir Lookfi,” Melamori said. “We should call him.”

“I did, but he must first say goodbye to about a hundred buriwoks. Now bring on the pie, Kofa. I can’t wait.”

The dull thud of an overturning chair announced the arrival of the Master Keeper of Knowledge.

“Good evening. It’s so kind of you to remember to call me. Sir Kofa, you’re a good sort to arrange this celebration for all of us. And good evening, Sir Max. I haven’t seen you in a long time. What have you done to your hair? Is that the style these days?”

Melifaro nearly fell off the arm of the chair, Melamori and I exchanged bewildered glances, and Sir Kofa was crackling with annoyance. Sinning Magicians! What happened to my disguise? Could people really still recognize me as Max?

“Don’t worry, Max,” Juffin came to my rescue just in time. “And you, Kofa—you should be ashamed for being surprised. You know our Sir Lookfi sees things as they are, and not as they seem. How else could he tell all his buriwoks apart?”

“Sir Lookfi is a truly insightful person. I’ve always said that,” Kurush interjected. Juffin nodded, agreeing with the wise bird.

“Still, it’s disappointing. I considered this girl to be such a masterpiece,” muttered Sir Kofa Yox. “I thought I could fool even Lookfi.”

“Juffin, are there any other ‘truly insightful’ people among the collectors of Kettarian carpets?” I asked with a sudden rush of anxiety.

“No. I personally know of only one other natural phenomenon like Lookfi—the sheriff of the Island of Murimak, the most imposing personage on that entire scrap of dry land. I think his main duty is to count the hairs on the fur of the local species of Royal Polecats. So take it easy,” Juffin turned back to Lookfi. “Have you had time to notice by now that our Max has temporarily become a lady?”

“Ah, yes. Now I see. Your hair is longer,” Sir Lookfi Pence said with relief. “It’s good that this isn’t the new fashion. I don’t look good in hairstyles like that—and they’re so much trouble.”

The improvised party was a brilliant success. If I had known that they would give Lonli-Lokli and me such a sendoff, I would have gone on a journey every day. Finally, just the three of us remained behind.

Sir Juffin Hully devoted a large part of the night to telling me and Lonli-Lokli the fabricated story of our conjugal life, for it was very likely we would meet curious travelers who wished to chat over dinner. I must admit, I only listened with half an ear, since I’d be with Lonli-Lokli, sturdy and reliable as a cupboard. He wouldn’t forget a word of the boring biography of Sir Glamma Eralga and Lady Marilyn Monroe.

“That’s all well and good, Juffin,” I said, staring thoughtfully at the steadily brightening dawn sky. “But I must admit, I still don’t understand why we’re going to Kettari.”

“Precisely for that reason: to understand why you need to go to Kettari once you’ve arrived. I can tell you honestly, Max—when I sent you to confront the ghost of Xolomi, I really was a bit greedy, that is, I kept a few things to myself until you asked me the question I was patiently awaiting. But this time it’s different. You really do know everything I know myself. So I’m sending you to Kettari to find answers to questions that are still a complete mystery to me. If you want my advice, when you get there, you should lie low for a few days. Don’t do anything. Walk around the city with Shurf, buy some carpets. Maybe the secret will find you, you have that lucky streak. But if nothing happens—well then, try leaving the city without the caravan or any other company, and then just return. Take your time, though, it seems to me that it would not be very wise to hurry. Right now I’m not sure of anything, though. All right, boys, it’s time. The caravan to Kettari leaves in one hour. You can each take a swallow.”

Juffin handed me his famous invisible bottle of Elixir of Kaxar, almost empty due to my efforts. I gladly took a gulp of the tasty drink, capable of relieving not only morning somnolence, but almost any other serious complaint.

“Have some, dear. There’s a bit left,” I offered the bottle to Lonli-Lokli.

My “significant other” declined politely, saying, “Thank you, Marilyn. But I don’t drink.”

“As you wish. We have a whole day of travel ahead of us.”

“There are special breathing exercises that dispel exhaustion far more effectively than your drink,” Lonli-Lokli said loftily.

“Will you teach them to me?” I asked.

“I’ll teach you, but only after you master the exercises I’ve already shown you.”

“But I already—”

“You just think you ‘already.’ Forty years from now you’ll understand what I mean.”

“Oh! As the Great Magician Nuflin likes to say, ‘I’m just glad I won’t live to see the day.’ Fine, let’s be off, honey.”

“Yes. Get a move on,” Juffin nodded. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk. The road is long. And don’t forget to bring me a souvenir from my homeland.”

Sir Lonli-Lokli eased in confidently behind the levers of the amobiler.

“Maybe we should change places?” I suggested.

“You want to drive the amobiler right after you’ve imbibed Elixir of Kaxar? No, you may not do that. I’ve told you that before. When we’re on the road you’ll have to relieve me sometimes, Marilyn. But are you sure you can drive like normal people do? If our amobiler keeps overtaking all the others, we’ll end up without a Master Caravan Leader. Not to mention shocking our fellow travelers.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Unlike our friend Max, Lady Marilyn is a careful damsel. Everything will be fine. I’ll step on the throat of any song.”

“What’s that, some secret spell?” Lonli-Lokli asked quaintly.

“Yep. I could teach you, but it would take forty or fifty years,” Lady Marilyn’s tongue was as sharp as that of my old friend Sir Max.

Actually, a few seconds later I decided that the joke might lead to unpredictable consequences, and I turned guiltily to my companion.

“Just between us guys, Glamma, it was a joke. It’s just a harmless expression.”

“That’s what I thought. But you’re not a guy, Marilyn. I’d advise you to watch your language.”

“Yes, my dear. You’re absolutely right.”

I began to suspect that a journey in the company of Lonli-Lokli would do more to hone my character than the severest pedagogical system of ancient Sparta.

My spirits finally lifted when I caught sight of at least a dozen amobilers accompanied by group of people in elegant traveling attire. When I was a child, I had always loved going to railroad stations to watch trains. It seemed to me they were going somewhere where everything was different from where I was. They were on their way There, and I envied the passengers as they wearily arranged their baggage in the overhead luggage racks. You could see the enchanting spectacle through the illuminated windows of the train while you stood on the platform. I preferred not to pay too much attention to the trains coming from There to the dreary Here.

Now I had the same feeling, only much stronger. Not a vague dream about a nonexistent wonder, but a near certainty about it. I even temporarily forgot that Echo was not at all the kind of place I wanted to leave. Comfortably wrapped in the elegant body of Lady Marilyn, I dove into the small human maelstrom, Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli following close behind.

In a few minutes, Lady Marilyn and her solicitous companion by the name of Glamma had already made the acquaintance of Abora Vala, Master of the Caravan—a short, gray-haired, but not at all old Kettarian, extremely charming despite his sly little eyes. We immediately paid eight crowns, half the cost of his services. The rest of the money was to be paid on the central square of the City of Kettari at the end of the journey. We were assured that the return trip to Echo would be free of charge.

There was another half hour of polite mutual sniffing out and exchanging names among fellow travelers, all of which I immediately forgot in the confusion of the moment. My Lady Marilyn behaved beautifully, not making a single gender blunder and answering consistently to her own name. Finally Mr. Vala called for everyone’s attention.

“I think we are all here, ladies and gentlemen. Let us depart. I’ll take the lead. I hope you’ll approve of the places I choose to stop and rest. I have a great deal of experience in this matter, you may be sure. If you run into trouble of any kind, just send me a call. I don’t recommend that you stray from the caravan, but if you get left behind, please don’t demand your money back. I hope, of course, that our journey will progress without any untoward events or unpleasant circumstances. Bon voyage, ladies and gentlemen!”

We all dispersed to our amobilers. I must admit I was even glad that Lonli-Lokli hadn’t allowed me to take the driver’s seat yet. It gave me the chance to admire the mosaic-laden pavement and the low buildings of Echo.

I had grown to love this city so much that the impending departure made me happy—I was already looking forward to the poignant joy of returning.

We passed through the enormous, lush gardens of the outskirts, which finally gave way to fields and woods. I was dizzy with all the new sights. Sir Shurf stared silently at the road in front of him. Even after he had become Sir Glamma Eralga, he was the most dispassionate of mortals. Our journey in one another’s company was not the worst pretext for finally satisfying my burning curiosity, I thought.

“Glamma, what do you prefer, the opportunity to keep silent, or the opportunity to talk?” I asked cautiously.

“I always enjoy talking to you, Marilyn, just as I enjoy talking to my friend Sir Max,” Lonli-Lokli replied sedately.

Did I detect some warmth of feeling in his voice? Either I was imagining it, or Sir Glamma, the new persona of the Master of Snuffing Out Unnecessary Lives, was a bit wayward (from the point of view of his former self).

“If you don’t want to answer my question, just tell me, all right?”

“Of course I’ll tell you. What else could I do under the circumstances?”

Lonli-Lokli’s iron logic restored my self-confidence.

“Fine. I’ve made my decision. All the more since the subject concerns not you, Glamma, but my friend Lonli-Lokli.”

“I can’t help but admire your sense of timing,” my companion said approvingly. “All things should be done at the proper time, including asking questions. Ask away. I think I’ll be able to satisfy your curiosity.”

“I hope so. Once, the name Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli was mentioned in a conversation with an old Magician, a friend of Juffin’s. When he heard the name, he said, ‘Ah, the Mad Fishmonger!’ Juffin nodded, but a certain Sir Max was very perplexed. Madness was the last thing he would have associated with his friend Shurf.”

“We haven’t known each other for very long. This explains your surprise. If you’re interested in the history of the person I was in my youth, it’s no secret whatsoever, in contrast to the history of Sir Max himself.”

“Really?” I replied, somewhat confused.

I have to admit, Shurf’s last remark (or Glamma’s, if you will) sent me into something of a panic. Melamori, Sir Kofa, and now Lonli-Lokli—they all sensed that something wasn’t quite right with me. Actually, that’s why they are secret investigators, isn’t it? Ah well, it’s Juffin’s fault, after all. Let him explain whatever he wishes, or keep it to himself.

“I don’t intend to ask any questions, since I feel the time isn’t right yet,” Lonli-Lokli said. “You need to learn to control the expressions of your face. Actually, if you don’t forget to do the exercises I taught you every day, that skill will develop of its own accord.”

“In about forty years?”

“I can’t say exactly. Maybe sooner.”

“All right, Glamma. Never mind my facial expressions. Let me hear your story, if it’s no secret.”

“Of course it isn’t! Exactly seventeen dozen years ago, a certain youth by the name of Shurf became an apprentice of the Order of the Holey Cup, with which his family was closely connected. So the young man did-n’t really have much choice in the matter. Actually, for those times it was a more than enviable fate. Not six dozen years had gone by and this young man became the Junior Magician and Master Fishmonger. In other words, he became the watchman over the holey aquariums of the Order. As far as I know, Sir Juffin once told you in fairly great detail about the ways of the Order of the Holey Cup, so I won’t repeat it.”

“All members of the order ate only fish that lived in holey aquariums and drank from holey vessels, like your famous cup, right?”

“That’s a rudimentary, but generally true, characterization. So, for several years the Junior Magician Shurf Lonli-Lokli carried out his duties splendidly.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it for a minute.”

“Well, you should, since the person we’re talking about is completely unknown to you. He was one of the most intemperate, capricious, and emotionally volatile people I’ve ever met; and believe me, I’m putting it mildly. The path on which members of the Order of the Holey Cup sought their strength did not help them to curb their own vices. You should know that this holds true for many other ancient Orders, as well.”

I nodded.

“Yes, Juffin told me about it. I just wish I could get the tiniest glimpse of what really went on during the infamous Epoch of Orders.”

“I recommend that you discuss it with Sir Kofa Yox. He’s a gifted storyteller, in contrast to me.”

“Nonsense, Glamma! You’re an excellent raconteur. Please go on.”

“I’m terrible when it comes to telling a story. It’s just that the subject is interesting to you,” Lonli-Lokli said. “I brought up the lack of restraint I had as a young man, because this aspect of his character explains his foolish action.” He frowned and fell silent.

“What foolish action would that be?” I urged him on, burning with curiosity.

“He wanted to acquire power at all costs: a great deal of it, and very quickly. So he drank the water from all the aquariums that he was supposed to be looking after.”

I couldn’t help laughing. I could imagine the fantastic spectacle, as though it were happening right in front of my eyes. Our Shurf drinking the aquariums dry, one after another. Sinning Magicians!

“Pardon me, Glamma, but it strikes me as very funny,” I confessed with a guilty air when I had caught my breath.

“Yes, I’m sure it does. The fish that lived in the aquariums perished, naturally, and the reckless young man gained enormous power. Except he couldn’t deal with it. That is knowledge one must learn over the course of centuries. It’s difficult for me to describe further events in any great detail; my memory is simply unable to retrieve a large part of what this foolish youth did after he left the Residence of his Order. But I can tell you that in the city they called him the Mad Fishmonger—and for a person to be called ‘mad’ during the Epoch of Orders, he really had to make an effort! I remember none of the residents of the city dared deny me anything I demanded. I was surrounded by terrified women, many servants, a great deal of money, and other things that crude people find entertaining. But I grew weary of all of this very quickly. I became obsessed. In those days, I liked to frighten people. More than that, however, I liked to kill. However, killing ordinary city-dwellers was demeaning. I longed to drink the blood of the Grand Magicians. I would appear at the necessary place, and then disappear. Too many hollow marvels, which I myself couldn’t understand, were committed at that time; but the blood of the Grand Magicians lay nevertheless beyond my reach.”

“Gosh, Shurf! Can this really be true?”

I realized that our Sir Lonli-Lokli wasn’t the cleverest liar in the Unified Kingdom—but all the same I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Call me Glamma. You forgot again, Marilyn,” the stern tone of my companion put an end to my doubts.

“People change, don’t they?” I asked quietly.

“Not all of them. But sometimes it happens. Actually, that’s not the whole story.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I wanted even more power, more than the famous Magicians about whose blood I dreamed back then. One day the Mad Fishmonger arrived at the Residence of the Order of the Icy Hand to seize for himself one of the mightiest of all hands.”

“Your gloves!”

“Yes. My left glove, to be exact. The right one I received when I fought with a Junior Magician of this Order. The fellow tried to stop me, so I bit off his right hand.”

“You bit it off!”

“Of course. What’s so strange about that? It was far less eccentric than most of my other escapades at the time.”

“Juffin told me that there was a tremendous amount of powerful magic in the Order of the Icy Hand. Did they really—”

“You see, after I had drunk dry all the twenty dozen aquariums, I received the power meant for the six hundred members of my Order. So it was very difficult to stop me, and when I got the gloves that you are familiar with, I became even more dangerous. But they finally did stop me.”

“Who? Was it Juffin?”

“No, Sir Juffin Hully came into my life a bit later. Two dead men stopped the Mad Fishmonger. They were the owners of the hands I took for my own. On one night they came to me in my dream. At that time, I became defenseless when I slept. Not completely, but almost. They wanted to take me away to somewhere between life and death in a place of endless tormented dying. I’m not very adept at describing things, so it would be better if your imagination would tell you what I was threatened with.”

“Never mind my imagination,” I murmured. “I’m hanging on to your every word. I won’t be able to get to sleep.”

“Well your words assure me that you’re close to understanding the problem I’m trying to describe, Marilyn,” said Lonli-Lokli. “I was very lucky that night. I awoke suddenly in great pain, as the old house where I was sleeping began crashing down. One of the stones hit me on the forehead. You may be wondering why the house started falling down; Sir Juffin Hully can tell you the details of his unsuccessful hunt for the Mad Fishmonger. There was no Secret Investigative Force at that time, but Sir Juffin was already entrusted with special missions by the King and the Seven-Leaf Clover. He was terribly renowned—and he deserved it, I suppose. But the Kettarian Hunter, as Sir Venerable Head was called back then, saved my life purely by chance. I managed to get out of the collapsing house in time, without even realizing what was happening. Meanwhile I was worried about something completely different. It was clear that the next dream would be my last. So I decided to live life to the hilt, mustering all my resources for that purpose, and then to kill myself before suffering the wrath of the dead Magicians. I succeeded in living without sleep for almost two years.”

“What?!”

Lonli-Lokli shocked me more with every word he uttered.

“Yes, it was around two years,” Sir Shurf insisted. “Just so. Of course, it couldn’t go on indefinitely. It is no exaggeration to say that I was already mad with that extra strain, and two years of insomnia turned me into something utterly unspeakable. Sir Juffin Hully followed every move I made, as I later came to understand. He was waiting for the right moment.”

“So that he could—”

“No, Marilyn. Not to kill me. You see, that night when he destroyed my house and saved my life, the life he was going to extinguish, it was a serendipitous event. The Kettarian rarely made a fool of himself, and he concluded that fate was showing him the way to me. So instead of capturing the Mad Fishmonger, Sir Juffin decided to save Shurf Lonli-Lokli, who had become entangled in his own marvels.”

“It’s all so romantic,” I said.

“Yes, quite. Of course, Sir Juffin has an unimpeachable sense of timing. He arrived at my side just at the moment when I realized that the period of insomnia was coming to an end—and with it, the end of my life was nigh. I was glad to die. Death seemed to me an appropriate way of avoiding a much worse fate. Then when the famous Kettarian Hunter caught up with me, I experienced an incomparable joy, for I was going to die in battle, and that was much more fun than suicide.”

“What did you say? ‘More fun’?” I was sure my ears had deceived me.

“Yes, of course. Contrary to the Lonli-Lokli of the present, the Mad Fishmonger loved to joke around and have fun. But Juffin and I never came to blows: instead of trying to kill me, Sir Juffin put me to sleep. I don’t suppose it was too hard for him at that point, as I was obsessed with the thought of sleeping. Juffin shoved me into the embrace of the dead men, who were obsessed with revenge. That began a whole eternity of weakness and pain. Oh, you shouldn’t grieve for me Marilyn. It happened long ago; and not to me, you may believe. And then the Kettarian pulled me out of the nightmare. He just woke me up, brought me to my senses, and explained that there was only one way out.”

“What was the way out, Glamma?”

I didn’t know very much about the local miracles, but I had experienced for myself the monstrous power of the nightmares of this World.

“It was all quite simple. Those two were seeking the Mad Fishmonger, so, I had to become someone else. Of course, an ordinary masquerade, like the one you and I performed before beginning this journey, wouldn’t have helped. It’s not that easy to deceive dead Magicians. Some people, yes; but not them. Sir Juffin transported me to some strange place, gave me a few words of advice, and left me there.”

“What kind of ‘strange place’ was it?” I asked, my heart at a standstill.

“I don’t know. Or, rather, I don’t remember. It’s impossible to preserve in your memory things that happen beyond the boundaries of your comprehension.”

“What kind of advice did he give you? Excuse me for pressing the matter, but I want to understand. What kind of advice can you give a person who has been struck by such misfortune?”

“It was nothing, really. He explained what I had to do, and why. He showed me some breathing exercises like the ones I showed you. Don’t forget that at the time I possessed enormous strength, enough to perform any wondrous feat. Juffin simply created the ideal conditions for it to manifest itself. I remember that in that strange place I couldn’t do anything but these breathing exercises. It was impossible to eat, sleep, and think. Time, as we ordinarily perceive it, didn’t exist. My personal eternity fit into a single moment, that’s the only way to describe it. I didn’t even notice when the Mad Fishmonger died. The young man I had once been died, too. After that, the me you know by the name of Shurf Lonli-Lokli emerged. I have no complaints about my new personality—it doesn’t prevent me from concentrating on the things that are really important. And, all in all, it doesn’t get in the way.”

“It’s simply unbelievable. Who would have thought?” I whispered.

“Yes, it is fairly improbable,” Sir Shurf agreed phlegmatically. “Then I was able to leave the strange empty place and return to Echo. Sir Juffin Hully found decent work for me. By the end of the Troubled Times a person with hands like mine didn’t have to worry about finding something to do. So in the end I did learn to taste the blood of the Grand Magicians; but by then it was a question of duty, not desire. In fact, for my new self it is a matter of complete indifference. I don’t think a single murder I’ve had to commit has had any meaning for me, or for anyone else.” He paused. “Excuse me, Marilyn. I’m not a very good philosopher.”

I was astounded. My own world, the world I had inhabited so cozily and comfortably, had fallen apart before my very eyes. Infallible Sir Shurf, solid and dependable as a rock, imperturbable and pedantic, completely devoid of a sense of humor and ordinary human weaknesses—where had he gone? And my other colleagues, headed by Sir Juffin Hully, who turned out to have been the staid “Kettarian Hunter”—what did I really know about them? What other surprises were in store for me?

“Now is a good time to do some of those exercises I taught Max, Marilyn,” my companion advised me. “You shouldn’t get so upset about things that happened long ago, when we weren’t even there.”

“Words of wisdom!” I exclaimed, and threw myself into Lonli-Lokli’s breathing exercises.

In about ten minutes I was absolutely calm. The mysteries of an exciting new World were gradually being revealed, and this was a great boon. Nonetheless, I still thank fate that the wonderful revelations of my colleagues didn’t come down on me all at once.

“Mr. Abora Vala just sent me a call,” Lonli-Lokli said. “The caravan is going to stop for lunch now. You have behaved perfectly this morning, Marilyn. Try to keep it up. By the way, I have long wanted to remark that in doing his breathing exercises, Sir Max breathes just as sharply and unevenly as he speaks. You should do something about it.”

“All right, I’ll try,” I murmured. “Do I really speak so poorly?”

“Yes, of course, but it will pass in time. Let’s stop, Marilyn. Get ready to change the subject, all right?”

“Agreed. By the way, our Master Caravan Leader doesn’t have bad timing, either. I could eat a horse.”

“No, Marilyn: ‘I’m hungry as a horse,’ or, simply, ‘I’m famished.’ Mr. Vala has no sense of timing whatsoever. Our caravan leader just stops at the taverns whose proprietors pay him for delivering clients.”

I laughed.

“How do you know, Glamma?”

“I looked him in the eye when we met.”

“Oh, I see! Still, he stopped just on time. I’m very hungry.”

“Here we go, then,” said Shurf, and chivalrously helped me out of the amobiler.

The meal was nothing to write home about; for me, anyway. As a budding gourmet and the favorite pupil of Sir Kofa Yox, I wasn’t about to jump for joy at your average country cooking. But our traveling companions turned out to be ordinary, dull tavern philistines. I was surprised to realize that the wonderful new World I so adored was not perfect. I suppose the average inhabitants of all Worlds are rather lackluster. I wasn’t exactly dizzy with delight at the prospect of socializing with a large number of these good-natured, simple souls. But a journey is a journey, and even such annoyances as bad food and the uninspiring company of fellow travelers had its charms.

After lunch I persuaded Lonli-Lokli to let me drive the amobiler. He didn’t want to risk it at first; my common sense didn’t exactly fill Sir Shurf with confidence. But Lady Marilyn begged him so!

After an hour of crawling at a snail’s pace, I was rewarded.

“I would never have imagined that you could exercise such restraint,” Shurf said.

It occurred to me that this was the biggest compliment I had ever been paid before.

“Why are you so surprised, Glamma? If someone tells me ‘you mustn’t,’ I fully intend to heed the advice.”

“This isn’t merely about things one must or must not do. The amobiler moves at the speed its driver wishes it to, and our wishes are often at odds with necessity.”

“Really? Are you serious? Good golly! I had no idea.”

“You didn’t know?” asked Lonli-Lokli. “I was sure you were simply fulfilling your childhood dream of high-speed racing when you got behind the levers.”

“No! Up till now it just seemed to me that I wasn’t as cautious as other drivers, and pushed it to maximum speed.”“Of course, that’s what I had in mind when I didn’t want to let you behind the levers. Only there’s no ‘maximum speed.’ It’s all a matter of the driver’s inner speedometer. I underestimated your self-control, however. I believe I owe you an apology.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, Glamma. That’s nonsense. So all this time I’ve been driving this jalopy, I didn’t know how it worked. I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!”

I sighed, and wiped the drops of perspiration from my forehead. Too much strange, new information for one day.

“The important thing is that you know how to drive it. And you can’t be an uncle, even a monkey’s. You keep forgetting who you are, my dear.”

We rode in silence until deep in the night. Lonli-Lokli, no doubt, had already exhausted his quota of words for the next three years. And I was mortally afraid of asking another questions—I’d had enough amazing revelations for one day, thank you very much.

We spent the night in a large roadside motel. Our guide sat down at the small bar for a game of Krak. Some of the travelers were happy to join him.

“This is how to do business,” Lonli-Lokli said. “Two nights on the road to Kettari, and two nights on the return trip. This Master Caravan Leader is a very rich man, I’m willing to bet.”

“Do you think he’s a cardsharper, too?”

“No, but Kettarians are very good at card games. They have a true talent for it. So fleecing even the luckiest dwellers of the Capital comes naturally to them. I think we need a good sleep. We have a hard day ahead of us.”

“Yes, of course,” I said uncertainly, knowing I’d hardly be able to go to sleep this early, even after a hard day.

“You know, Lady Marilyn,” Lonli-Lokli said, arranging himself under a fluffy blanket. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave our room. It won’t look very plausible—pretty married women don’t usually sit in the bar until dawn after a hard day on the road. People might think things aren’t quite right between us.”

“It would never have entered my head. No nocturnal ramblings! If tipsy barflies begin making passes at Lady Marilyn, I’ll have to spit at them. And that doesn’t conform to my notions of propriety and discretion.”

“In that case, I beg your pardon. Good night, Marilyn.”

My companion dozed off. I crawled under my blanket and let my mind wander. I had quite enough to think about after our instructive conversation. At the same time, I could take advantage of the free time and snatch a few cigarettes from under my wonder-working pillow.

I only managed to fall asleep at dawn, and an hour later Sir Shurf, already impeccably groomed and alert, thrust a tray with kamra and sandwiches under my nose.

“I’m very sorry, but we’re leaving in half an hour. I think you ought to use some of your supply of Elixir of Kaxar.”

“No, it’s better if I sleep in the amobiler,” I said, lifting my heavy head from the pillow. “Thanks for your concern, Glamma. Your wife—I mean the real wife of Lonli-Lokli—must be the happiest of women.”

“I hope so,” said Shurf. “I have a strange fate, Marilyn. Real wife or no, I’m the one who serves her kamra in bed, and not the other way around.”

“Sinning Magicians, was that a joke I just heard?”

“It’s simply a statement of fact. If you wish to bathe, you’d better hurry.”

“Of course I want to!” I swallowed the kamra down in one gulp, I couldn’t even look at the food.

I settled down in the back seat of the amobiler, leaving my fellow travelers to contemplate the dreary, monotonous plains stretching to the west of Uguland. I fell asleep so soundly that Sir Lonli-Lokli’s attempts to make me come out for lunch proved futile. “Just tell them that the lady is suffering from motion sickness,” I grumbled sourly, and dove headfirst into the sweetest of sweet dreams.

I awoke not long before sundown. I was as happy, rested, and hungry, all at once, as I had been in a long time.

“I took a few sandwiches from the tavern where we had lunch,” Lonli-Lokli said. “I think it was the right thing to do.”

“You got that right,” I said gratefully. “I hope it’s not some inedible stuff again.”

“The local cuisine differs from that of the Capital, naturally,” said Sir Shurf. “But one shouldn’t underestimate the benefit of some variety in life.”

“Oh, I’m conservative in these matters,” I said with my mouth full. “Maybe it’s time for me to take over from you, Glamma? I hope you trust me behind the levers by now.”

“Of course I do. You can do as you wish, though I’m not really tired yet.”

“One shouldn’t underestimate the benefit of some variety in life. End of quote.”

“Touché.”

My Lady Marilyn made herself comfortable at the levers and daringly lit up a cigarette. I couldn’t wait to partake of the fruits of my night’s labor.

Lonli-Lokli grew visibly uneasy.

“I don’t know where these strange smoking accoutrements come from, but you should hide them from the gaze of strangers. What is all right for Max is not necessarily acceptable for an ordinary citizen, Lady Marilyn.”

“I’m a stranger myself, if you care to remember! And it’s very unlikely that anyone is observing us now.”

“Not now, no, but during the stops.”

“I’m not a complete dunce!” I retorted. “Do you really think I’d light up a cigarette in the company of other people, Shurf?”

“It’s always better to be forewarned. Besides, you probably haven’t considered that it would be better to burn the butts than to throw them away. You really must mind your manners, Marilyn,” my companion reprimanded me.

I burst out laughing. Our dialogue was becoming heated. When I had recovered, I carefully burned my cigarette butt. Lonli-Lokli was, after all, the wisest of mortals. And I was a frivolous ninny who knew nothing about the paramount demands of secrecy.

That night we had already reached the County Shimara. Our Master Caravan Leader sat down at the card table again, and we dined on something exotic—too spicy and oily for my tastes—then went to the night’s lodgings.

Only then did I realize that the huge residential hall was outside the territory of the Unified Kingdom. Our room was not much larger than an ordinary hotel room in my own world, and the bed was a regular double bed. I looked at Lonli-Lokli in dismay.

“Well, I’ll be! It looks like we’ll have to sleep in each other’s embrace, my darling!”

“That may be rather inconvenient,” Sir Shurf said. “Besides, since it has come to this, I can offer you the possibility of using my sleep. When people sleep side by side, it’s fairly easy to do so.”

“How do you mean?” I asked, puzzled. “I’ll have your dreams instead of my own? And anyway, it won’t work—Lady Marilyn slept until sundown.”

“When one person shares his sleep with another, they fall asleep simultaneously,” Shurf explained. “I’ll put you to sleep, and then I’ll wake you up. But I don’t know in advance whose dreams we’ll have: yours, mine, or both at the same time. It’s up to us to decide. Anyway, I think this solution to the dilemma is a reasonable one. Tomorrow after lunch we’ll be in Kettari, and you’ll have to be awake and alert the whole day. If I’ve understood correctly, Sir Juffin wanted us to pay close attention to the road leading into the city.”

“That’s true,” I agreed. “Do you have good dreams, Glamma? After the story about some of Sir Lonli-Lokli’s dreams—”

“I would never propose that you share my nightmares. Luckily, I have been free of them for a long time.”

“Well, I can’t vouch for my dreams,” I said, and sighed. “Sometimes I see such terrible things in my dreams that it’s enough to make you despair. Do you like taking risks, Glamma?”

“There’s no risk involved, since I’m always able to wake up at will. Lie down, Marilyn. We mustn’t waste any more valuable time.”

I quickly undressed, surprised again that my body had remained the same beneath the illusion of Lady Marilyn, so very plausible and genuine.

It’s time to sleep in your pajamas, kid, I thought. You’re not going to walk around naked in your friend Shurf’s dreamworld, are you? It’s wouldn’t be polite.

“It’s best if our heads are touching,” Lonli-Lokli said. “I’m not an expert in these matters by a long shot.”

“Okay,” I said, and obediently shifted my head. “All the more since putting to sleep such a live-wire as myself . . .” I yawned without finishing my thought, ready to peek into my companion’s dreams.

It turned out that the “projectionist” in this small dream-cinema for two was me. My favorite dreams of all visited us that night—the city in the mountains, where the only kind of municipal transport was a cable car; the marvelous English park that was always empty; the line of sandy beaches on the shore of a dark, gloomy sea.

I wandered through these extraordinary dreamscapes, now and then exclaiming, “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” “Wonderful!” my partner agreed, an astonishing fellow who didn’t look at all like my good friend Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, nor like the Mad Fishmonger who once terrorized all of Echo, nor like Sir Glamma Eralga.

I awoke at dawn, happy and full of peaceful well-being.

“Thank you for that wonderful excursion,” I said, smiling at Lonli-Lokli, who was already pulling on Glamma’s blue skaba.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you, since our dreams belonged to Sir Max. I’ve never had the opportunity to be in places like that before. Without the slightest doubt, they’re marvelous. I never expected anything like that from you, Sir Max.”

“The name’s Marilyn,” I said, and burst out laughing. “Gosh, Shurf, can you really make mistakes?”

“Sometimes one must make mistakes to be understood correctly,” Lonli-Lokli remarked cryptically, and went off to bathe.

“All the same, it wouldn’t have happened without your help! I don’t know how to find those places whenever I feel like it!” I called after him. Then I sent a call to the kitchen; Lonli-Lokli shouldn’t have to be the only one to bother with the trays.

A grand, dusky spring morning, a drive through endless green glades, a languorously long lunch of five identically tasteless courses in a remote tavern, the monotonous chatter of the other travelers . . . I don’t think I said more than ten words all day. I felt too pleasantly contented to break the tranquility with any sound at all.

“When do we arrive in Kettari?” Lonli-Lonli asked our Master Caravan Leader after we had finished our midday meal.

“It’s difficult to say exactly,” said Mr. Abora Vala. “I would guess in about two hours. But you see, in this part of the County Shimara, the roads are pretty rough. We might have to take a detour. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“A very competent answer,” I grumbled under my breath, getting behind the levers of the amobiler. “‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ That’s just dandy. I’ve never received such exhaustive information in my life. It makes a guy happy to be so well-informed.”

“A girl,” Lonli-Lokli corrected me. “Are you nervous?”

“Me? Where did you get that idea? Actually, I’m always nervous. It’s my normal state. But today I happen to be feeling as calm as I’ve felt in eons.”

“Well, I’m nervous,” Shurf admitted unexpectedly.

“Whoa! I didn’t think I’d ever be hearing that.”

“I didn’t think so either.”

“We people are strange creatures,” I mused. “You never know beforehand what we’re going to do.”

“Indeed, Marilyn,” Sir Shurf said solemnly.

We continued on our way. Lonli-Lokli drove the amobiler, so I had an excellent opportunity to gaze about, savoring the foretaste of mystery.

The road was as predictable as a road can be when you’re seeing it for the first time. After an hour and a half I grew bored, and my vigilance tried to go into early retirement. Just then, the caravan turned off the main road onto a narrow path whose usefulness as a thoroughfare looked extremely doubtful.

Several minutes of merciless rattling and rolling and we turned again. The new road was fairly tolerable, looping a bit through the foothills. Then it suddenly soared upward at a dizzying angle.

To the right of the road loomed a cliff, overgrown with dusty bluish grass. On the left yawned the emptiness of an abyss. At that moment I wouldn’t have agreed to relieve Lonli-Lokli at the levers of the amobiler for all the wonders of the World I had a mortal fear of heights.

Struggling to reign in my panic, I recalled the breathing exercises and started in on them with a vengeance. Sir Shurf glanced over at me in concern, but didn’t speak. In a half hour my torments were over. Now the road was winding between two identically towering cliffs, which seemed to me to offer some guarantee of safety.

“I just sent a call to Mr. Vala. He claims that Kettari is still about two hours away,” said Lonli-Lokli.

“He said the same thing after lunch,” I grumbled.

“Well, nothing to get too alarmed about. But it does seem a bit strange, doesn’t it?”

“A bit? I’d say it’s very strange. As far as I understand it, the fellow makes this journey several times a year. This must have given him enough time to get to know the road.”

“That’s what I would have thought.”

“‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’” I said with a wry smile. “Maybe that motto is emblazoned on the Kettarian coat-of-arms. Looking at Juffin you’d never think so, but—actually, let me send him a call. There’s nothing much to praise, so we might as well grouse to a dyed-in-the-wool Kettarian.”

And I sent Sir Juffin Hully a call. To my great surprise, I didn’t get the slightest response. It was just like the days when I was a bumbling novice in the World and about as competent in Silent Speech as a lazy first-grader at his multiplication tables. I shook my head vigorously and tried again. After the sixth attempt I finally became alarmed and sent a call to Lonli-Lokli, simply to convince myself that I was capable of doing it at all.

Do you hear me, Shurf? Glamma? Whatever your name is?

“Are you enjoying yourself, Marilyn? It would be better if you—”

“I can’t contact Juffin!” I exclaimed out loud. “Can you imagine?”

“No, I certainly can’t. I hope this isn’t another joke.”

“As though I don’t have anything better to do than joke around! Try it yourself. It just isn’t working for me.”

“Fine. Take the levers. I have to sort this out—things like this can’t happen for no reason.”

A yawning emptiness like an ironic grin now appeared in the terrain to our right. It wasn’t terribly close if you tried to look directly at it, but terrifying all the same. I tried to control my fear, and gripped the levers. To admit to Sir Lonli-Lokli that I was afraid of heights—no, better we both plunge to our deaths.

My companion was silent for about ten minutes. I waited patiently. Maybe he’s talking to Juffin, I thought. Of course—he must be talking to Juffin. There’s a lot to tell him and Lonli-Lokli’s always very thorough. Everything is fine. Something is just wrong with me, and there’s nothing unusual about that.

“Silence,” Lonli-Lokli announced finally. “I’ve tried contacting Sir Juffin. And there is no answer from my wife, Sir Kofa Yox, Melifaro, Melamori, and Police Captain Shixola, either. And at the same time, it’s no problem for us to communicate with our Master Caravan Leader. By the way, he still claims that Kettari is about two hours away. I think I ought to continue trying to get in touch with someone in Echo. Allow me to remark that this is one of the strangest incidents of my entire life.”

“Oh devil’s thumbs!” was all I could spit out.

Lonli-Lokli didn’t pay the least bit of attention to this exotic curse—a good thing, as the last thing I wanted to do at this point was to try to explain who in the devil the devil was.

A few more anguished minutes, and I had already forgotten about the abyss to the right of the road. Apparently, my fear of heights was something akin to a bad habit, and getting rid of it was a piece of cake. All it took was concentrating on a problem that was much more serious.

“I tried a few more people. Everyone was silent except for Sir Lookfi Pence, who answered immediately,” Lonli-Lokli said. He was as calm as though we were talking about the ingredients of a lunch we had already eaten.

“Everything’s fine at the House by the Bridge. Something strange seems to be happening just to us. You can talk to Sir Lookfi. I think Juffin is right there beside him by now.”

“This game is called ‘broken telephone,’” I said.

“What? Which game is that?”

“Oh, never mind. Just take the levers, friend.”

We changed places yet again, and I sent a call to Lookfi, not without trepidation. This time everything worked without a hitch.

Good day, Lookfi. Is Sir Juffin with you?

Good day, Sir Max. I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear from you. Sir Shurf told me that neither of you was able to send a call to anyone but me. Isn’t that a bit strange?

Indeed it is! I couldn’t help but smile. I’m sorry we’re causing you such inconvenience, Lookfi, but you’ll have to repeat every word I say to Juffin, and then report to us what he says. Can you manage?

Of course, Sir Max. Don’t worry about me. No inconvenience whatsoever. It’s very flattering and . . . interesting. Taking part in your conversation with Sir Juffin, I mean.

Excellent, Lookfi, I said, and carefully recounted the few, but very curious, events of the day.

Sir Juffin requests that you describe the route you have been traveling up to this point, after turning off the main road, Lookfi said.

I described in as much detail as possible the narrow, almost impassable lane and the twisting mountain road, the gloomy cliffs overgrown with bluish grass, and the bottomless precipices that opened up now to the right, now to the left of our route. After reflecting a bit, I recalled again the vague answers of the guide to the simplest and most reasonable questions—when, devil take it, would we finally arrive in that blasted little town?

Sir Juffin asked me to relate to you, Sir Max, that he lived for four-hundred some years in Kettari, caught well over several dozen robbers in the surrounding forests, and didn’t spend all his free days in the city. So it’s no surprise he knows every blade of grass in the entire area. But never in his born days has he seen anything like the landscape you’ve described, Lookfi said. And Sir Juffin also says that . . . Oh, Sinning Magicians, but that’s impossible! And Sir Lookfi Pence’s voice disappeared from my mind without a trace.

I tried sending him another call, without much hope of success. No response, just as I suspected.

“Now there’s no answer from Lookfi, either,” I told Lonli-Lokli gloomily. “Sir Juffin managed to catch the story of our absurd post-prandial journey, and announced that in the environs of Kettari there is nothing resembling the terrain we’re passing through. Then he asked Lookfi to relay something else. Lookfi heard what the chief wanted to tell us, said that it was ‘impossible, ’ and then the connection went dead. I wish we knew what Juffin wanted to say!”

Lonli-Lokli didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed about any of this.

“Let’s think about it,” I said. “Lady Marilyn is a simple, uneducated country girl. I won’t even mention the poor fool Sir Max. We don’t know the most elementary things, but I assume that Sir Glamma does know these kinds of things, and Shurf Lonli-Lokli all the more.”

“Can you express yourself a bit more clearly? What exactly do you mean?”

“Wow! My whole life I’ve thought that the only thing I knew how to do was express myself clearly. Fine. I won’t boast—I’ll just ask you a few basic questions.”

“That’s a reasonable decision, Marilyn. Ask away. Maybe you’ll be able to make some sense of information that seems useless to me.”

“All right. First, from what I understand, when you send someone a call using Silent Speech, distance is immaterial. Is that right?”

“That’s exactly right. The main thing is to know the person you’re trying to communicate with. And reaching him in Arvarox, if need be, poses no problem.”

“Excellent. Let’s move on. Is there somewhere in the World where Silent Speech doesn’t work?”

“In Xolomi, naturally—you know that yourself. I’ve never heard of anyplace else, though. Of course there are people who simply don’t know how to use it, but our situation is somewhat different.”

“All right, that all makes perfect sense. Tell me, Shurf, maybe you’ve heard about a problem like this one? Not necessarily a true story—perhaps a legend, or a myth. A joke, if nothing else.”

“In the Order we used to say: ‘A good sorcerer can shout even as far as the next World.’ That’s more likely to be a joke than the truth. You can’t send a call to the next World. Luckily, we have ample evidence that all our colleagues are alive.”

“But what about us?” I blurted out.

“I’m used to trusting my senses. And my senses tell me I’m absolutely alive.”

“Well, gosh! Of course you’re alive! And I am, too, I hope, but . . . Oh, the devil with all my secrets! You’re the best grave for secrets, your own and others’, I imagine. It seems we’re in serious trouble. It will be easier for us to figure out just what kind of trouble it is when we’re both on the same page, I suppose. What I’m trying to say is that the ‘next World’ isn’t necessarily a place inhabited by the dead. There are many different Worlds, Shurf, and I’m living proof of it. My homeland could also be described as the ‘next World.’”

“I know,” Lonli-Lokli said serenely.

“You know? A vampire under your blanket! How? Did Juffin brief you about me, or something?”

“It’s all much simpler than that. The ruse about the Barren Lands was really a good one, so for a while I didn’t doubt its veracity. All I needed was enough time to observe your breathing to grow suspicious, though. Then there were Juffin’s mysterious explanations about how our magic works differently on you than on others. Finally, there’s the color of your eyes. You are aware that they constantly change color, are you not?”

“I know,” I murmured. “Melamori told me.”

“I never thought she could be so observant. Well, that’s a special case. Don’t worry. People don’t usually pay attention to such trifles. I wasn’t sure myself until I traveled in your dreams last night. You were much more talkative than usual. But we’re for now not talking about you. Tell me, where did you want this conversation to go?”

“All right,” I mumbled. “Let’s just hope that Professor Lonli-Lokli really is the one and only expert on the matter of how creatures from other Worlds breathe. I began this conversation with the aim of informing you that it’s highly unlikely I’d be able to send a call to my mom, even if I really wanted to. Am I making myself clear?”

“Absolutely. But it would seem that a journey between Worlds is a highly unusual event. And nothing out of the ordinary has happened to us. So far, it’s a journey like any other.”

“A journey like any other? For several hours we’ve been driving through terrain that, according to Sir Juffin Hully, doesn’t even exist, and a local inhabitant can’t tell us when we’re going to arrive at his home town! I can understand your skepticism. It wouldn’t have occurred to me, either, if I hadn’t traveled between Worlds in a regular old streetcar—which in my homeland is as mundane a means of transportation as the amobiler is here.”

“All right then, you seem to know best,” Lonli-Lokli said. “Let’s drop the subject for now. Sir Glamma will think that he’s just driving to the city of Kettari, and Lady Marilyn can maintain otherwise. That seems reasonable to me—to watch the situation as it unfolds from two different vantage points.”

“As our respected Master Caravan Leader would say, ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’”

“That’s just what I wanted to say,” Lonli-Lokli said. “Don’t you think we might finally be approaching Kettari?”

“Yes, the road has suddenly become very smooth, though the surroundings still don’t look very hospitable. Wait a minute, what’s that up ahead? Is it the wall of the city?”

“That’s what I was referring to.”

“Soon we should be seeing the seven Vaxari trees by the city gates, and the gate itself, which still contains the vestiges of the carving of old Kvava Ulon,” I said. “Now that we’ve finally arrived, I’m as excited as though this were my own hometown and not Juffin’s! What am I blathering on about, though? If it were my hometown . . . Oh, never mind.”

“Eleven,” Lonli-Lokli said.

“Eleven what?”

“Eleven Vaxari trees. You can count them.”

I stared at the approaching stand of trees.

“Ha! There really are eleven! And Juffin said there would be seven.”

“Who knows how many there used to be,” Lonli-Lokli said.

“Do you know anything about botany, Glamma?”

“A bit. Why?”

“Doesn’t it look to you as if these trees are all the same height?”

“Yes, it certainly does. But they’re very old, because the trunk of the Vaxari becomes knotty like those are only when it reaches the age of five hundred years.”

“Exactly! Don’t you see? That means that when Juffin was here there should already have been eleven. If now there were fewer trees, that would stand to reason. But more? Oh, and here are the city gates—brand new! No ancient ruins decorated by the long deceased Kvava Ulon. Simple and tasteful. Congratulations, dear. We’ve made it to Kettari. I can’t believe it!”

“Sooner or later it had to happen. Why are you so happy?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, looking around in excitement at the curiously elegant little houses.

An abudance of mismatched, crudely arranged flowers decorated the windows. They would have horrified an ikebana artist, but they warmed my heart. Intricate designs of tiny paving stones in every tint of gold and yellow ran every which way along the narrow streets. The air was clean and bitingly cold, despite the hot rays of the sun beating down on us. But I wasn’t cold, and I felt as though I had been cleansed from the inside out. My head spun slightly and my ears were ringing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lonli-Lokli asked.

“Lady Marilyn’s in love!” I smiled. “She and I are crazy about Kettari already! Just look at that little house . . . and that narrow, three-story one! What kind of vine has curled around it so that the weathervane doesn’t even budge? And the air—you can eat it with a spoon! Can you feel the difference? When we were driving through the mountains the wind wasn’t half so transparent and clean. Who could have thought that the World contained such a . . . such a . . . words fail me!”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like it?” I asked. “That’s impossible! Glamma, friend, are you ill, or just tired out from the last hundred years? You just need to take it easy. If you can share my dreams every night, if you want. You liked them, didn’t you?”

“Yes, they were wonderful. I must say, your offer is very generous. Even too generous.”

“Yes, and so what if it is! Oh, Glamma, take out the money—we must pay the rest of the fee. There it is, the bazaar! Where do you suggest we settle for the night? Preferably not too near our sweet fellow travelers. Let them think whatever they want. We’ve reached our destination, and après nous, le déluge.”

“‘After us the flood’? You know that expression?”

“Why is it so surprising?” Now I myself was caught off guard.

“That saying was written on the entrance of the Order of the Watery Crow. Didn’t you know?”

“What sincere, warmhearted people,” I mused. “What I can never manage to get my mind around is the thought of their potency and might, with a name like that.”

“Sometimes you really amaze me. What is it you don’t like about the name?”

“Perhaps we should settle our accounts with Mr. Abora and take a spin around town,” I suggested, unwilling to take the time to explain why the name of the Watery Crow inspired amusement rather than awe. “We’re not going to live in a hotel that’s full of tourists from the Capital. If you want to get to know a place you have to find yourself real living quarters. And it will be more restful without other people around.”

“A very wise decision,” Lonli-Lokli agreed. “I imagine the old fox Master Caravan Leader can give us some advice. I’m sure that these kinds of caprices among his tourists provide an extra source of income for him.”

“Like heck he’s going to earn something else off of me!” I said with a grin. “Let’s go, Glamma. I’m in love with this town. Believe me, I’ll find a place to stay within an hour that’s better and cheaper than something that rogue would dig up for us. I’ll bet in his free time Mr. Vala lies to himself just for fun, and it makes him happy not to trust anyone.”

“As you wish,” Lonli-Lokli said. “Look for a place to stay, then, Marilyn. I won’t be any help. I can, however, get the money out of the purse.”

“Oh, right. You’re wearing gloves. Give him what we owe him, then turn down that alley. It looks like something’s gleaming there. I’m hoping it’s water. All I need are riverfront lodgings for my happiness to be complete.”

Lonli-Lokli slowly got out of the amobiler, then went to pay our guide. When he came back, he looked me over from head to toe. He had eyes that inspired trust, like a good psychiatrist. I lowered my gaze demurely. Sir Shurf got behind the levers again, and we turned down the alley I was so smitten with. A moment later we were driving along the bank of a river. Small, delicate bridges, and an occasional stately, massive one, crisscrossed the dark crease of the narrow, deep river.

“Oh,” I sighed. “How can you not love all this, you sourpuss? Look at the bridges! Just look! Gosh, what’s the name of this little river? You don’t happen to know by any chance, do you?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Lonli-Lokli said. “We’ll have to look at a map.”

“Around here is where we have to stay,” I said dreamily. “And then we’ll go home, and my poor heart will be broken all over again.”

“Again?” Lonli-Lokli asked, as though he hadn’t heard me correctly. “Excuse me, but Sir Max doesn’t create the impression of someone with a broken heart.”

I nodded cheerfully.

“It’s one of my inconvenient qualities. The worse things are going, the better I look. More than once I tried borrowing money from friends when I looked like I had just won the lottery. My absolutely true stories about living for a week on just bread and water went over like a load of baloney.”

“And you really experienced such hard times?”

Spending time with me clearly encouraged the development of Sir Shurf’s facial muscles. A look of surprise crept into his usually expressionless countenance.

“Yes, can you imagine? Sometimes I didn’t have anything to eat at all. Thank goodness everything changes. Sometimes.”

“That explains a lot,” Lonli-Lokli said thoughtfully. “That’s why it’s so easy to be around you, despite your madness.”

“What? Well, you sure know how to flatter a guy.”

“It’s not a compliment, but an observation. Maybe you put another construction on the term.”

I sighed. Who said anything about semantics? It was already clear to me that Lonli-Lokli wasn’t trying to praise me this time.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sir Shurf said in a conciliatory manner. “A completely normal person just isn’t cut out for our line of work. When I was in the Order they used to say, ‘A good sorcerer doesn’t fear anyone but a madman.’ A bit of an exaggeration, naturally, but I think Sir Juffin Hully operates on this principle when he chooses his colleagues.”

“Fine,” I said. “I am what I am, and whatever you call me won’t change anything. Let’s stop here, Glamma. I want to walk along the riverbank and mingle with the locals. Something in my heart tells me they’re dying to give shelter to two rich idlers from the Capital. Don’t worry, I remember. My name is Marilyn; and I’m planning on having a little chat with some sweet little old ladies.”

“Do what you must,” said Lonli-Lokli. “After all we shouldn’t forget that Sir Max is my boss.”

“Oh, come on.” I couldn’t restrain a nervous chuckle. “All right, I’ll be back soon.”

I felt a thrill when my feet touched the amber sidewalk. Through the thin soles of my boots I felt the tender warmth of the yellow stone. My body felt light and happy, like I was about to take to the air. Kettari was wonderful, like my favorite dreams, and I now felt more like a sleepwalker than someone wide awake.

I crossed the street with Lady Marilyn’s light step, then strolled along, peering at the tiny ancient houses in ecstasy and smiling all the while. “The Old Riverfront,” I said, reading the name on a plaque. Well, here’s something else I like!

Oh, Juffin! I thought. If I could shout loudly enough for you to hear, I would be sure to say that a remarkable old fellow like you could only be born in such a magical place as this. I’m hardly likely to be able to say this when I see you. So I’m telling you now, just so you know, all right?

I was so absorbed in thinking about what I would want to say to the boss that I almost knocked over a small, frail old woman. Luckily, the dexterity of her tiny frame was hardly in keeping with her years. At the last moment, she swerved aside sharply and grabbed on to the carved handle of a small garden gate.

“What’s wrong with you, child? Where did you leave your pretty eyes? In your husband’s snuffbox?” she snapped at me angrily.

“I’m awfully sorry,” Lady Marilyn said, embarrassed. “I just arrived a half hour ago in this town I’ve been hearing about since childhood. I never imagined it would be this beautiful! That must be why I’ve gone a bit out of my head—but it will soon pass, don’t you think?”

“Oh? And where have you arrived from, dear?” the old woman asked, clearly moved.

“Echo,” I replied with a slight feeling of guile. When you tell someone from a small provincial town that you are from the Capital, you are overcome with a sense of awkwardness, as though you have just snatched a silver spoon from your conversation partner’s sideboard.

“But you don’t have an accent like someone from the Capital,” remarked the observant old lady. “And it’s not like ours, either. Where were you born, young miss?”

Lady Marilyn and I began to lie with gusto.

“I was born in County Vook. My parents fled there in the Time of Troubles, and they were quite happy. But I married a man from Echo just a few years ago. My great-grandmother is from Kettari, though, and so . . . In short, when I told my husband, ‘Glamma, I want a good Kettarian carpet,’ that wasn’t really what I was after. What I really wanted was to—”

“. . . to visit the land of fairy tales you had heard so much about when you were a child,” the old woman said, finishing my thought. “I can see you really like it here.”

“I certainly do! By the way, would you mind telling me what the custom is in this city? I’d like to find a place to live for a few dozen days. Not a hotel, but ordinary citizen’s lodgings. Is that possible?”

“It is, indeed,” the old lady said with enthusiasm. “You can rent one floor, or a whole house. A whole house is quite expensive, though, even for a short stay.”

“Oh, goodness!” I exclaimed. “I just wish I could meet someone who would offer me something suitable—and whether expensive or not, we could simply discuss the matter.” And I tapped the tip of my nose with the forefinger of my right hand.

“Welcome, young lady!” the old woman said with a merry chuckle. “You certainly deserve a little discount. Just imagine, I’m on my way home from my friend Rarra’s house. We were just talking about how we might as well settle down in one house, either mine or hers, since we visit each other every day. The second house could be rented out, so that we could afford a few extras for ourselves. We’ve been talking over this plan for a dozen years or more, and we can’t come to a decision. A few dozen days is just what we need to begin with. It will give both of us enough time to figure out whether we’re capable of living under the same roof. My house is nearby. I’d only ask ten crowns for a dozen days.”

“Ouch! Prices are steeper here than in the Capital!” I exclaimed.

“All right, eight; but you and your husband will have to help me move some of my indispensable belongings to Rarra’s,” the old woman said resolutely. “There aren’t too many. Since you have an amobiler and a strong man at your disposal, I don’t think it will trouble you too much.”

The “indispensable belongings” were so numerous that the move had to be carried out in six runs. But the time was well spent. Lady Xaraya, our landlady, managed to show us a place where we could get a good breakfast, and another place for an evening meal. She also warned us (about a hundred times) not to play cards with the locals—very thoughtful of her.

After we paid in advance for two dozen days, Lady Xaraya wished us a good night and disappeared into her friend’s house.

“It looks like the little old ladies are planning to get a bit tipsy tonight,” I said. “Let’s go home, Sir Shurf. Don’t be mad, but I’m sick of having to call you Glamma.”

“As you wish, but I prefer to be as careful as we can. What difference does it make what you call someone? What’s really important is that you not slip up in front of other people.”

“What ‘other people’? Our companions of the road are slumbering happily in some flea-bag hotel. I assume that they were fleeced out of more money than we were for that opportunity. Aren’t you thrilled at what my lucky streak has found this time?”

“Yes, to be sure,” Lonli-Lokli admitted. “But I had been expecting something like this all along, so I’m not surprised. I hope my reaction is not cause for disappointment.”

“Of course not! It inspires me with the wonderful feeling that everything in the World is in its proper place. Your placidity, Sir Shurf, is the true underpinning of my spiritual equilibrium. So just stay as you are, no matter what. Now let’s go home, get washed up, and change our clothes. Then we’ll have dinner and take a look around. Juffin, as far as I remember, gave us some astonishing instructions—enjoy life, and wait until a wonder finds us.”

“Juffin gave those instructions not to us, but to you. He told me just to guard you from possible trouble.”

“My heart is absolutely sure that I can’t experience anything remotely like trouble in Kettari! Not a thing!”

“We’ll see,” Lonli-Lokli said. “Wait! Where are you off to? This is our home. Number 24 the Riverbank. Have you forgotten?”

“Yes, I did forget! As one Sir Lookfi likes to say: ‘people are so absentminded.’”

The bathroom was in the basement. Obviously, the inhabitants of all the provinces of the Unified Kingdom had come to a consensus on this matter.

There were no luxuries or extras available to us—just a single bathroom, somewhat larger than we were used to in my homeland, but otherwise nearly identical.

Sir Shurf frowned in displeasure.

“I must say, after a few days on the road I was counting on three or four bathing pools.”

I sighed sympathetically.

“I’m sure that you have no less than twelve at home. Well, you’ll just have to get used to a life of deprivation and do without.”

“I have eighteen of them at home,” said Lonli-Lokli with palpable longing in his voice. “And I don’t think that’s excessive.”

“Are there any holey ones among them?”

“Alas, I am not privileged with such,” my friend said. “You may bathe, Lady Marilyn. I’ll wait in the living room.”

When I went back upstairs a half hour later, my friend raised his eyebrows quizzically.

“You didn’t have to hurry. I would have waited. Or are you always so quick with bathing?”

“Almost always,” I said. “I’m terribly uncouth, don’t you think?”

“To each her own,” Lonli-Lokli said reassuringly. “But I’ll apologize in advance for not being able to clean myself up in record time like you can.”

“Nonsense,” I said, brushing off his apology. “It so happens that I have a little matter to attend to.”

When I was by myself, I reached for my pillow, thrust my hand under it, and waited. Only a few minutes passed before the first cigarette was within my grasp. It had only been smoked halfway to the end. Putting it out completely, I hid it in the small treasure box where I kept my loot. It was a sort of cigar-case with two sections: one for butts, and another for whole cigarettes, which came to me so rarely I was beginning to forget how they tasted. I was loathe to complain, though; they were better than nothing. The few weeks that I tried to get used to the local tobacco were a heroic and bitter memory for me.

About three hours later Shurf finally deigned to come out of the bathroom. By this time, I had already managed to snatch four cigarette stubs, each one longer than the last. It was an uncommonly good harvest. My right hand had rested motionless under the pillow for twenty minutes already, and I didn’t intend to interrupt the procedure. Why should I? This fellow knew too much about me as it was. What kinds of secrets could I keep from him?

“May I know what you are doing?” he inquired politely.

“Well, I’m just making magic to the best of my abilities. This is how I come by my smoking sticks. It takes a long time, but it doesn’t cost a thing. A habit is very hard to break.”

“Is that—are they from your homeland?” Lonli-Lokli asked.

I nodded and tried to concentrate. Sir Shurf examined the butts with skeptical interest.

“Go ahead and try one,” I offered. “It’s like your tobacco, only much better. You’ll like it so much that I’ll have to retire just to have the time to rustle up enough for both of us.”

“You don’t mind? Thank you, you’re more than kind.” Lonli-Lokli chose a shorter butt and lit up.

“Well, how do you like it?” I asked.

My right hand was still empty, and I had promised myself that I wouldn’t light up until I had finished my tedious work.

“The tobacco is rather strong, but it really is much better than what I’m used to,” Lonli-Lokli said approvingly. “Now I understand why you wore such a sad expression whenever you smoked your pipe.”

“My expression was sad?” I asked, and burst out laughing. “Ah, here it is, the sweet little thing—the wait is over! Out you come!” I quickly extricated my hand from under the pillow and studied my quarry.

Oh, great. That’s all I needed: in my hand was a self-rolled joint. The sight and the smell left no room for doubt.

“The devil take it! All my efforts in vain!” I felt cheated.

“What’s wrong?” Lonli-Lokli asked. “You don’t like that kind?”

“Something like that. But it’s worse than that. Most of my countrymen smoke this to relax, but it just gives me a headache. I suppose I am abnormal. Do you want to relax, Sir Shurf? We can trade.”

“Interesting,” Lonli-Lokli looked bemused. “I never refuse the opportunity for a new experience.”

“You want to try?” I beamed. “Then my efforts weren’t all in vain after all. And who knows, it may really help you to relax. That’s something I wish for you with all my heart, Shurf, since you’re not crazy about Kettari.”

I offered him the joint and happily smoked the rest of the cigarette myself. I desperately wanted another one immediately upon taking the last drag, but I only had three left, and a whole evening ahead of me. I turned to Lonli-Lokli.

“Well, are you relaxed, old friend? Let’s go eat dinner.”

Then my jaw dropped so low I could almost hear the thud.

I have no words to describe my astonishment. Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli was grinning from ear to ear. It just didn’t seem possible that it was his own face. I shuddered.

“That’s some funny smoking stick. A fine little thing,” Lonli-Lokli winked at me, and giggled foolishly. “If you only knew, Max, how funny it is to talk to you looking like red-headed girl.”

The giggles grew into outright laughter.

“Is everything all right, Shurf?” I inquired cautiously.

“Why are you staring at me like that, mate? The big bore that I have been for quite a while now just went for a stroll. And you and I are going out to eat, only . . .” He burst out laughing again. “Only just try to close your mouth. Otherwise everything will fall out of it and . . . and there won’t be anything to swallow!”

“Sweet,” I muttered. “And I thought I’d be able to get a rest from Melifaro for a while. All right, let’s go. Only don’t forget that my name is Marilyn, and yours—”

“Do you really think that all the people of Kettari are going to eavesdrop on our conversation?” Lonli-Lokli asked. “Drop whatever they’re doing and crawl around under the windows of some tavern to hear the names we call each other?” He laughed again. “Sinning Magicians, Max! It’ll be a tight squeeze for all of them! How many people live in this town?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, however many there are, it’s still going to be a tight squeeze!” Lonli-Lokli brayed like a donkey. “Let’s go. I’ve never been so hungry in my life! Just don’t wiggle your behind, Max, or you’ll have trouble with the male population. Or don’t you object to trouble like that?”

“I object to any kind of trouble at all,” I retorted angrily.

“Let’s go, Marvel!”

“Me, a Marvel? Take a look at yourself!” I said, but Lonli-Lokli was already groaning helplessly with laughter. Nevertheless, we managed to leave for our outing.

Along the way, Sir Shurf giggled without stopping. Everything sent him into gales of laughter: the way I walked, the faces of occasional passersby, masterpieces of local architecture. And you could understand why. By my calculations, he hadn’t even smiled in two hundred years. Here was the opportunity of a lifetime! He was like a Bedouin who had just found himself in a swimming pool. It was pleasant to watch him enjoying himself so thoroughly, as long as he didn’t choke from joy. Whether I had done a good deed or committed the most terrible blunder of my life remained to be seen.

“What are we going to eat?” I asked, seating myself at a small table in the Country Home, an old-fashioned tavern that I remembered Lady Sotofa mentioning.

“Whatever we order, we’ll end up eating crap again. You can bet on that!” said Lonli-Lokli, and dissolved in mirth once more.

“In that case, let’s take the easy way out.” I closed my eyes and pointed randomly at one of the meals listed on the menu. “Number eight. I know what I’m getting. How about you?”

“What an excellent way to make a decision!” Shurf frowned and pointed at something. As one might have predicted, he missed, and knocked over my glass, which crashed to the floor. Lonli-Lokli guffawed again. I sighed. And this was the fellow who was supposed to keep me out of trouble?

“Oooh, I’ll have to try again!” Lonli-Lokli gasped, his laughter finally spent. This time I was ready for him, and propped up the menu in front of him just in time. Sir Shurf’s forefinger pierced right through the menu at about the thirteenth item. The owner of this dangerous weapon exploded in laughter all over again.

“You must be hungry,” I said. “I think a hole in the menu means a double portion. I hope with all my heart that it’s something tolerable.”

“Don’t ever hope! It will be crappier than crap!” Lonli-Lokli announced cheerfully. Then he roared at the proprietor who was timidly making his way to us, “Crap No. Eight, and Double Crap No. Thirteen. And make it snappy!”

“You’ve scared the living daylights out of him,” I said, watching the stooped shoulders of the retreating prorietor. “I can only imagine how—”

“No, you can’t! You can’t imagine the teeniest tiniest thing! All the better. Oh-ho! Now it’s time to start stuffing our bellies! Look how he waddles, it’s hilarious! By the way, your way of choosing a meal is really something. Do you see what they’re bringing us?”

“Yes, I see it,” I said. I was completely at a loss.

They served Lonli-Lokli two minute vase-like glasses, each of which contained a fragment of some whitish substance that smelled simultaneously of mildew, honey, and rum. I was presented with a huge pot, filled to the brim with meat and vegetables.

“Bring me the same, immediately!” Lonli-Lokli demanded. “Otherwise I’ll feel embarrassed in front of the lady. And take back that Number Thirteen! We smelled it, and that was enough!”

“You may leave one,” I interrupted. “I’m very curious about what kind of junk you ordered.”

“Go ahead and try it. Personally, I’m not willing to risk my life over such a trifle. Goodness, Sir Max—how funny you are!”

The proprietor stared at us in mute bewilderment and disappeared, taking one of the much-maligned little vases with him.

I poked around at the whitish substance with squeamish fascination, sniffed it again, and cautiously tasted a bit of it.

It tasted like a horrible mixture of lard and smelly cheese, soaked in some variety of the local spirits.

“Disgusting!” I pronounced with a certain respect. “This is what we need to take back with us as a present for Juffin. It’s the best medicine for homesickness and nostalgia, which he doesn’t suffer from anyway.”

“If we ever see that sly old fox again, that is,” Lonli-Lokli said with a smirk. “Actually, you have a lot of experience traveling between Worlds, don’t you?”

“Not too much,” I replied, a bit shamefaced. “You’ve changed your tune, it seems. You never liked me talking about my World before.”

“It’s not my tune I changed—but myself! You’re so slow to catch on. Don’t you see, that dullard Sir Lonli-Lokli whom you had the misfortune to know couldn’t immediately accept the outlandish story of your origins, even it if were the only logical explanation. But I’m not such an idiot as to deny the obvious. I think the unbearable fellow I was unlucky enough to be then will also accept it in time. But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Probably not,” I sighed. “Ah, here’s your meal. Bon appetit, Glamma!”

“What a name!” Shurf chuckled. “Someone really had to think to come up with that one.”

He polished off the contents of his pot with unbelievable relish and demanded more. I reached for the kamra, which they made no worse here than in Echo, Lady Sotofa’s uncomplimentary remarks notwithstanding.

“You’re not such a madman, Sir Max,” said Lonli-Lokli, and winked slyly. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to let you out of my sight so that you wouldn’t get up to mischief in that get-up. But as soon as Uncle Shurf let down his defenses a smidgen, you were already on your guard. You’re a little vixen! No matter what happens, you’ll always land on your feet. You’re made of the sternest stuff.”

“I never thought it would come to this, but you know best.”

“That was a compliment,” Lonli-Lonkli said. “People like you went a long way during the Epoch of Orders, believe me. I don’t know where you came from, but . . . Okay, this conversation is getting boring, and I need to grab my good luck by the tail.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, really. I can’t sleep yet, so I’m going out to look for a way to pass the time. When next will I get the chance to neglect my duties with an easy conscience?”

I raised my eyebrows in consternation and quickly assessed the matter at hand. In fact, I had in my arsenal an excellent means of getting out of this sticky situation. One dexterous motion of my left hand, and a miniscule Lonli-Lokli would have the perfect opportunity to come to his senses, resting between my thumb and my forefinger. On the other hand, who am I to deprive this wonderful fellow of his well-earned leisure? After all, he was a grownup man, a few centuries older than me. Let him do as he wished. And the main thing was that it might not be a good idea to let him sleep. If the dead men he had robbed were still looking for the Mad Fishmonger . . . Heck, now was their chance to find him!

“Enjoy yourself, Shurf,” I said. “Lady Marilyn and I will go sniff out the situation and see whether there are any wonders to be found around here.”

“You are a very clever fellow, Max,” Lonli-Lokli stared at me with a new kind of respect and interest. “I just can’t describe how clever you are!”

“What, you mean the trick with my left hand might not work?”

I was already used to dealing with people who read my thoughts, so I knew right away what he meant.

“It’s not just that it might not work—you can’t even begin to think what I might do in return.”

“Why not? I have a rich imagination. What I really can’t imagine is what I might do myself.”

“Bravo!” Lonli-Lokli exclaimed. “That’s how you should answer any high-handed crazy Magician.” And once more he cackled with glee.

“You know what they say, ‘If you lie down with dogs, you’ll come up with fleas.’ Good night, friend!” I stood up to leave.

“Goodbye, Sir Max. Tell that bore Sir Lonli-Lokli not to be such a show-off. He’s a good fellow, but sometimes he goes overboard.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. Send me a call if you’re headed for trouble.”

“Me? Never! But if someone else is headed in that direction . . .”

“Naturally.”

I waved to him from the doorway and went on my way.

The first thing I did was return to Lady Xaraya’s house, which had turned willy-nilly into the Kettarian branch of the Secret Investigative Force. I settled myself comfortably in the flowery rocker, lit a cigarette, and pondered my reflection in the large, old mirror. Lady Marilyn, it seems our husband has abandoned us. I hope you’re satisfied, dear?

In fact, my new persona was wild with happiness. She squealed in an excess of delight and demanded immediately to go for a walk, to breathe the sweet air of freedom. Perhaps somewhere on the streets of nighttime Kettari she might succeed in finding a few adventures?

I thought of the recent transformation of Lonli-Lokli. I didn’t know how it would end, but the new image suited him as long as the fellow didn’t get into any trouble. On the other hand, a guy like that get into trouble? Come off it!

I decided to banish all thoughts like this from my head. You can’t undo what’s already been done.

Now Lady Marilyn and I had to resolve one small dilemma. I longed for a walk around Kettari, but was it wise for a pretty girl to gallivant about at night in a strange city?

I have the perfect idea, my little pumpkin! I informed my reflection. Why not dress up like a man? It’s pure madness, of course; but what to do?

I ransacked my colleague’s bags, found a suitable turban, and even a pin for the looxi. That was all I needed. But now what about Marilyn’s illusory curves? Sir Kofa had really outdone himself when he created my new appearance. I could have gotten away with simple falsies! I sighed and grabbed the next cigarette. How do you turn a girl into a boy? I needed the resourceful eye of a designer.

In a few minutes I came up with what initially seemed to be an absurd idea: to conceal my virtual figure in the way a real woman might mask her very real figure. I would bind the illusory bust tightly, pad my sides to hide the difference in size between waist and hips, and stuff a rag in the shoulder area.

Well, it was worth a try. I wasn’t sure whether it was really so dangerous for a girl walking alone through nighttime Kettari, but I decided that once I was a fake man I would feel much more sure of myself than I did as a fake woman. But how confusing it all was!

Half an hour later I glanced cautiously in the mirror. To my satisfaction, the effect was much better than I had dared hope. Of course, the youth in the mirror didn’t resemble in the least my good friend Max. Nevertheless, the sexual identity of this creature admitted no doubts. The boy was a boy—was a boy! Natural-born.

Just then I remembered Lady Sotofa’s story about the potion she had given me to drink. Wondrous Half, or Heavenly Half—something like that. “You’ll just stay who you are, but people will think they’re dealing with a completely different person.” That’s what she had said. Did that mean I could now be seen exactly as I wished to be seen? Well, all the better.

Before leaving the house I stuck my hand under the magic pillow. One cigarette was too meager a supply for the long night ahead of me. In a few minutes I was examining in awe a half-empty pack of Camels. Six cigarettes—untouched! I raised my eyes to the heavens in gratitude. “Dear God,” I solemnly declared. “First, you do exist! And, second, you’re a great guy and my best friend!”

I opened the door and ducked into the bracing menthol breeze of the Kettarian night. My legs carried me to the other bank over a steep, high-backed stone bridge, with faces of dragon-like creatures carved in the railings, and then even further, through quiet, labyrinthine lanes and moon-white splotches of squares. I didn’t even try to pretend I had any aim. I was just enjoying the stroll. The wonders would have to find me themselves, in the words of Juffin Hully, I thought.

All night I wandered through Kettari, drunk on mountain air and new sensations. I traveled the length of a dozen streets, drank at least a jug of kamra and other local beverages in tiny, all-night snack bars. I silently opened garden gates and entered dark, empty yards to smoke, staring at the huge, strange greenish moon in the ink-black sky. In someone’s little plot of paradise I drank from a fountain; in another I plucked several large, tart berries from a luxuriant spreading bush. It didn’t look like the Tree of Knowledge, praise be the Magicians.

The dawn caught up with me on the same bridge where my enchanting journey had begun. I was considering planting a kiss on the funny dragon gazing at me from the railing, but I decided that was going too far—a vulgar act, a false note, the finale of a play in an amateur theater. But here, in Kettari, I wanted to reach perfection. That was why I simply returned home, undressed, and fell asleep right in the living room, curled up in a ball on the short, low divan.

I woke up before noon. I felt as though someone had given me an intravenous of Elixir of Kaxar. Pure ecstasy!

Lonli-Lokli wasn’t anywhere to be seen, however. His absence made me a bit nervous. I didn’t feel truly alarmed, only a mild discomfiture—a weak mixture of curiosity and compunction about my own role in the matter, more than anything else.

After hesitating a bit, I sent him a call.

Everything all right with you, Shurf?

Yes, I’m just a bit busy, so let’s talk later. Don’t be upset.

He’s busy, he says. I’d just like to know with what, I grumbled to the ceiling. In any case, the matter was settled. It was clear that Shurf was safe and sound—that was all that was required of him.

That most important matter out of the way, I decided to seek out my breakfast. After some consideration, I resolved that Lady Marilyn could go for a walk in Kettari in the light of day. Why should I trouble myself with changing my clothes again? Soon, an elegant damsel was breaking all feminine records in the Old Table, a small restaurant where she astonished the proprietor with her preternatural ability to consume huge amounts of food. The appetite I had worked up during my nighttime wanderings was anything but dainty and ladylike.

Having eaten her fill, Lady Marilyn went shopping for a map of Kettari. I might need it in the future; and also, there was no better present I could give myself. Maps and atlases have a hypnotic effect on me, and if I had a different kind of character I could easily have become a collector. But collecting is not my forte. My things seem to spread out through the homes of my friends and disappear forever into dark corners. Even nailing them down wouldn’t help.

I purchased a small thick map with a carefully drawn plan of Kettari. I found a seat at a tiny table in a nameless tavern, sampled the kamra, and began examining my acquisition. I managed to locate my house, my beloved bridge with the dragon faces, Country Home tavern on Cheerful Square. Yes, that place fully deserved its name, if Lonli-Lokli’s antics were any proof.

After gulping down the last drop of kamra, I continued on my way. I was in love with the bridges of Kettari, and I wanted to cross the Meaire—this was the name of the dark little river—two hundred times, no fewer!

This time I crossed to the other bank over a large stone bridge that resembled an intricate underwater fortress. I roamed the city trying to find the places that had caught my fancy the night before. I came to understand yet again that night transforms the world completely; I wasn’t able to find a trace of them. This prompted me to do something that seemed quite senseless. I went into a tiny store, bought a fine, almost toy-like pencil, and marked my current route on the new map. I decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to retrace this path by dark and compare my impressions.

When I had finished, I looked around. The store was chock-full of wonderful bric-a-brac. It looked just like the thrift stores and antique marts of the Old City, where I was used to throwing to the winds, without much effort, the better part of my enormous salary. This store, too, brought out the spendthrift in me, and I dreamily fumbled through my pockets.

Oh, goodness! I suddenly remembered that the money for traveling expenses, our abundant expense account, was in a pouch strapped firmly to the belt of the wayward Lonli-Lokli, still missing in action. Just yesterday it had seemed like such a safe, reliable place for it. In my pockets I had only a bit of change—not more than ten crowns. Any resident of the Capital would consider that to be a veritable fortune, but not I. Almost thirty years of modest, humble making-do hadn’t done me any good, and I was now going through an extended period of pathological squandering. I had a physical need to throw money away, and the habit of keeping track of expenses, weighing what I could or could not afford, gave me a headache. Berating myself for being a brainless moron, I looked around helplessly. Well, it was impossible to leave such a marvelous place without a souvenir. All the more since my eyes had alighted on yet another map of Kettari, embroidered on a delicate piece of leather, a true work of art.

“How much is this little trifle?” I casually asked the proprietor, who was watching me intently.

“Just three crowns, miss,” he replied saucily.

The price was outrageous. Even in the Capital things made in the Code Epoch were cheaper.

I frowned. “For some reason it seems to me that even one crown would be too much. But one I’d be willing to pay, I suppose. I’ve done sillier things.”

The merchant stared at me mistrustfully. I made the ubiquitous Kettari gesture, tapping the tip of my nose twice. It worked like a charm. This seemed to be the way out of any situation. A few minutes later I was already sitting in another cozy bistro, examining my purchase.

Now, I’ve never been especially observant, so if it hadn’t been for the very common practice of first trying to locate the place you’re staying on the map of a strange city, I might never have noticed. Never mind my lodgings—on this map there was no Old Riverfront whatsoever! There was, however, a Cool Riverfront, which was not on the map I had bought a half hour earlier. I put the two maps side by side and peered at them closely. They were similar, very similar, but in addition the name of the riverbank I had already grown to love, there were several other discrepancies. I shook my head in wonder. It looked like the first map I had bought was the right one. I had checked my route against it. Or perhaps both of them were misleading in their own ways?

I drank down the rest of my kamra, grabbed my enigmatic souvenirs, and went outside. I read the street sign carefully: Circle Lane. Then I peered at my little leather map. This time everything corresponded. There was Circle Lane. But the first map told me I should be standing on Seven Grasses Street. Interesting.

It looks like there’s a doggone mystery on my trail, I thought. And it doesn’t look pretty.

Now I was only interested in bookstores and souvenir stands that sold maps. I amassed maps of Kettari, haggling like a gypsy and wheedling the storekeepers down to less than five times the asking price. Where there’s a will there’s a way. The only thing I didn’t manage was to force the merchants to pay me for taking their wares off their hands.

By sundown, I was tired and hungry, and a quick glace around proved I was standing under a sign that read Down Home Diner. The tavern was on the corner of High Street and Fisheye Street, so there were two entrances. The door around the corner from where I stood seemed to be the main entrance. Above that door was picture of an old lady of epic proportions armed with a ladle. The immediate entrance was far more appealing, an ordinary wooden door draped with some local variety of wild grapevine. I pulled it toward me with a decisive tug, but the door wouldn’t budge. It looks like I’ll have to pass under that cannibal of a cook! I said to myself unhappily. But first, I tried the overgrown door once more, and on my third try I realized that I had to push, rather than pull. This is one of my more embarrassing personal traits—I always have to struggle with new (and sometimes even long-familiar) doors. They say the malady is incurable.

After I had made my peace with the door, I went inside the nearly empty dining hall, chose the farthest table, and plopped down in a comfortable, soft chair.

No sooner had I sat down than a cheerful, plump lady appeared and handed me a weighty menu. I was duly impressed. It’s not every restaurant, even in the Capital, that offers such abundant fare.

“A cup of kamra, please,” I said. “I think I’ll have to study this beautiful book for some time.”

“One kamra, coming up!” The tavern-keeper smiled graciously. “Kamra, and something a bit stronger, as well, miss?”

“If I drink something stronger I’ll fall asleep in the chair before my meal arrives. I’d like something more vitalizing,” I said. The Elixir of Kaxar was resting safely in my travel bag in the house at 24 Old Riverbank St., which I had located on only six of the eleven maps of Kettari. Needless to say, this did not infuse me with optimism.

“I’d highly recommend Elixir of Kaxar,” suggested the tavern-keeper, brightening. “Ever since the rules for cooks were relaxed in the Capital, we have been able to stock this marvelous drink. Are you familiar with it?”

“And how!”

I noted to myself that I had probably discovered the “best darn diner in this crazy town,” as Sir Juffin Hully would have said. What luck!

The mistress of the tavern left, and I buried my nose in the menu. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the names of the dishes contained not a whit of useful information, and were a bunch of abstract lyrical malarky. I waited until the mistress returned with a diminutive glass of Elixir of Kaxar, and explained to her that I needed a hefty portion of something tasty, but not too refined. Yesterday’s experience with the lard had made me wary. After a long exchange, the mistress concluded that what I was after was one order of Wind Kisses. I did not object. The mistress said that the dish would take at least a half hour to prepare. I nodded my approval. It’s always easy to come to an agreement with me. Then she disappeared into the semidarkness of the kitchen.

I sipped the Elixir of Kaxar. My spirits perked up, and I started to look around. I’d been wanting a cigarette for a long time. I just needed to find out whether it was permitted.

The hall was almost empty. Apart from me there was only one other customer who sat by the window with a view onto a curious fountain with colored streams that didn’t simply fall downward, but twisted in intricate spirals. I tried but was unable to make out the face of the stranger. I could only see his back, hunched over a board game. By a leap of the imagination it could have been considered a local variant of chess. The figures were more or less similar, but the board was divided into triangles and painted three different colors.

This fellow seemed to be so engrossed in his intellectual conundrums that not only would it have been possible to smoke a cigarette from another world in his presence, but one could have organized an entire striptease without him noticing. So I lit up without further ado. Lonli-Lokli was totally living it up in this grand city of Kettari—did I deserve any worse?

Wind Kisses turned out to be tiny patties made of tender fowl. After I finished, I drank the rest of my divine Elixir and placed my souvenirs on the table. Again I studied all eleven versions of the map of Kettari. Now I had another surprise: High Street, Fisheye Street, and the Down Home Diner were there on all eleven maps. This coincidence astonished me even more than the numerous inconsistencies I had found earlier. Not trusting overmuch my own powers of perception, I again pored over the tiny letters on the map. Maybe everything on the map had been just as it should be from the start—only my senses had been confused by the jumble of new impressions. But no, the discrepancies I had found were still there.

I sighed. I would just have to wait patiently for the errant Lonli-Lokli to return so I could dump this problem on his strong shoulders—assuming, of course, I’d be able to find the road home. What if, indeed, Old Riverbank Street wasn’t where it was supposed to be?

“Don’t fret so, Sir Max. That’s all neither here nor there. By the way, you’ve hardly collected all the variants.”

I stared silently at this suddenly chatty gentleman. Did he say “Sir Max” to me? No, I must have misheard. I couldn’t possibly have heard correctly! My Lady Marilyn was a perfectly executed illusion, a masterpiece of Sir Kofa Yox’s artistry, the pride of both of us.

The chess player smiled slyly under his reddish mustache, stood up, and came toward me. He had a marvelously light gait, and a very unremarkable face that I already couldn’t commit to memory—but that gait I’d no doubt still remember in another thousand years!

“The name’s Mackie Ainti,” he said softly, sitting down in a chair near mine. “Sir Mackie Ainti, the old sheriff of Kettari.”

I nodded in silence. My heart was thumping against my ribcage, trying to escape so it could fetch the suitcases and get out of town as soon as possible. The arm of the chair creaked loudly under the convulsive grip of my fingers.

“There’s no cause for alarm,” Sir Mackie Ainti said, and smiled a slow smile. “You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve waited for this moment, even if I told you myself!”

“A long time?” I asked faintly.

“Yes. Quite a while. I’m awfully glad to see you! You can’t imagine just how glad I am!”

“Glad?”

I was completely at a loss. Couldn’t wait to see me? How was that possible? He didn’t even know me. As far as I knew, Sir Juffin Hully was not exactly corresponding with his first teacher.

“Fine. If you’ve got it into your head that you just have to be surprised—well, I’ll just head back to my board over there. When you’re over your shock, send me a call.”

“What? No, it’s not worth going back and forth. I’ll be quick about it,” I said. “Naturally, the person who taught Sir Juffin Hully what’s what in his time would know everything in the World.”

“You got that right. You know, Maba and I had a falling out—”

“Sir Maba Kalox is here?”

“How should I put it . . . At the moment, as we speak, no. And you never can say anything for sure about Maba. Whatever the case may be, he does sometimes pay me a visit. That’s how we got to arguing about you, and neither of us guessed. I wasn’t at all sure you’d drop in here, and I was getting ready to pay you a visit. But Maba talked me out of it. He reckoned that within a dozen days or so you’d come round to Down Home Diner. But we sure didn’t expect to see you this soon. Have you any notion how lucky you are, partner?”

“Sir Juffin tells me all the time. I’ve got a whole slew of arguments to the contrary, but they don’t count, I guess?”

“You got that right. You lucky dogs are all like that. It was even a miracle that you were born, did you know that?”

I shook my head in bewilderment. Up to this point I had thought that the story of my conception contained no dramatic plot twists.

“The details are immaterial to you, but you can keep it in mind, anyway. Well, no matter. Looks like you want to smoke?”

I nodded. The problem was that my cigarette box was empty and my magic pillow was at my lodgings.

“Maba left you a present. He asked me to tell you that you’re a very quick learner, so it’s probably not so much a present as a well-earned reward.”

Mackie handed me a whole pack of my favorite cigarettes, with three gold stars on a yellow background.

“Whoa! Looks like I won the jackpot!” I exclaimed. “You were absolutely right, Mackie. I’m the luckiest person in the universe!”

“Almost,” he nodded distractedly. “What else can I offer you? I think a good dose of nostalgia would do the trick. Hellika!”

The smiling tavern-keeper hurried over, put a tray with a cup on the table silently, and disappeared as quietly and abruptly as a shadow.

“She is a shadow,” Sir Mackie said, seconding my thought. “But a very sweet one. Well, are you happy?”

I looked at the cup. That smell . . . Kamra is, of course, an excellent thing. But nothing beats the smell of . . . good coffee!

“I’m going to cry!” I said. “Sir Mackie, I’m in your debt forever.”

“Don’t bandy words like that around. It’s very dangerous, especially in your case. Your words sometimes possess a special power, and some of your wishes do, too. They come true, you know. I think this World is going to see some interesting times ahead, if you don’t become old and wise in the very near future. But neither one nor the other is likely to happen any time soon, I reckon.”

“Sir Mackie, do you always speak in riddles?”

“Only some of the time. The rest of the time I’m silent as the grave. So just be patient.”

“No problem,” I nodded, and greedily slurped down another gulp of coffee. “Now I’m going to have a smoke—and you can do whatever you like with me. I’ll agree to anything.”

“Is that right? By the way, your sense of duty isn’t very strong. If Juffin were in your shoes he would already have fired a dozen questions at me, made a few million deductions, and formed a hypothesis. Don’t you plan to interrogate me about the mysterious fate of Kettari?”

“I know that you’ll only tell me what you consider necessary for me to know. And you’ll tell me that without any prompting on my part.”

“Bravo!” Sir Mackie said. “I can’t help but envy Juffin. It’s very easy to deal with you.”

“I feel the same way,” I agreed. “But I wasn’t like this before. Juffin’s jokes and lots of good food will turn anyone into an angel.”

“Juffin’s jokes? That’s funny. He used to be the gloomiest fellow in Kettari. I had to work two hundred years to get him to crack a smile. The smile came out crooked, but at least he tried.”

I stared at my conversation partner in disbelief.

“Aw, come on! As though I had nothing better to do than sit here and lie to you! So you thought he was born old, wise, cheerful, and with a silver spoon in his mouth to boot? My, oh my, Max. You and I are the lucky ones. There’s nobody left to gossip about my youth, and you’re growing up so fast there won’t be time for your mistakes to stick in anyone’s memory. Well then, drink down your strange brew before it gets cold. If you want more, you’ll have it. Today’s your lucky day. I have to make up for my sins. It’s my fault you nearly went off your head about the Kettari maps. I was surprised you even noticed!”

“Well, it was just by chance. I have that habit of first looking for where I live on any map.”

“All the same, good for you. But why did you get so agitated about it? Another habit?”

“Indeed. By the way, you promised me a refill.”

“Are you always in such a hurry, Max?”

“No. I usually sit on the toilet for a long time.”

“Bread has to sit before it rises, too. At least you do something thoughtfully.” Mackie hid his smile under his ruddy whiskers.

Suddenly the mistress appeared again out of nowhere, carrying another tray. Then again, a shadow is a shadow.

“Okay,” I said, starting in on a second cup of coffee with gusto. “I guess I’ll have to play along and ask this question: What’s happening in Kettari?”

“You already had the right idea,” said Mackie, taking a swig of coffee from my cup before setting it down in disgust. “Are you sure you can drink that stuff? It won’t make you sick?”

I shook my head, then asked:

“You’re talking about the line I gave Lonli-Lokli, about the ‘other world,’ and how there are many Other Worlds, aren’t you?”

“Of course. I don’t object to that explanation. You see, Kettari really doesn’t exist anymore. Or, rather, it exists—you can see that for yourself—but it’s not where it should be, and it doesn’t exist in the ordinary sense of the word.”

“And the local inhabitants?” I asked with a sinking heart. “They seemed quite ordinary to me.”

“They are. True, they had to die when their time came, but not for long, and . . . just ‘for pretend.’ You found an excellent little word for it; I’ll have to remember it! They think that they live in the Unified Kingdom, just like they did before, and they have no evidence to the contrary. They can always go wherever they like. They can invite their relatives to visit them; only they know it’s best to go out to meet them so they won’t get lost. It is a small inconvenience that ‘the roads around Kettari are in terrible condition since the time of the Great Battle for the Code,’ and so forth. So when you leave, you must have a good protective amulet: a guide, a key to the Door between Worlds. I think you like metaphors like that, or am I wrong?”

“Sure I like them!” I said. “So I was right? Kettari is another World altogether, like my homeland?”

“Well, not exactly like your homeland. You were born in a real place—a rather strange one, but real nonetheless. Kettari, in contrast, is the beginning of a new World that will someday become real. The beginning is a wonderful time, a time of marvels, whether we’re talking about a whole World or about a single human life. Oh, by the way, you should try going for a walk outside the city gates. I highly recommend it. For you the walk is completely safe. And when else will you have the opportunity to see absolute emptiness?”

“Are you serious?”

“You bet I am! You must go for an outing. Only do it alone, all right?”

“But I’m alone now! I was abandoned.”

“It’s your own fault. You’re lucky your friend is such a beefy fellow. Narcotic substances from one World sometimes have the most unexpected effects on inhabitants of other Worlds. You’ve experienced that yourself, by the way. Remember what happened to you after just one bowl of that harmless Soup of Repose? And there’s no need to fret. Your friend will be fit as a fiddle in no time.”

“I’m not a bit worried. But how can you know so much about me, Sir Mackie? I understand that for you it’s a trifling matter . . . but why, exactly?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? Vile little word. After all, you happened to appear in Juffin’s life, so for me you’re a sort of nephew. Excuse me for resorting to such primitive terminology. But they really are like family ties.”

I smiled. This made sense to me.

“Well, now. I think that’s enough for today,” Mackie announced abruptly. “First, walk outside the city, then come back here and we’ll continue our family reunion in the evening. Otherwise I may end up telling you more than will fit into your hapless head.”

“True, that!”

I didn’t know whether to be glad or to regret the sudden end of the conversation. Maybe I really was in need of some time-out.

“Just tell me one thing, please. How should I get home? I mean, which of these maps is right?”

“They all are,” Mackie said with a shrug. “The fact is that I couldn’t remember exactly how Kettari really was arranged, so there are several floating around out there. The bridges connect the fragments of my reminiscences. You see, I had to create Kettari again from scratch, because the real Kettari was completely destroyed. It’s a sad story—and no witnesses remain alive.”

“Some Mutinous Magician or other?” I asked knowingly.

“Who else? And not ‘someone or other,’ but the cream of the crop: Loiso Pondoxo, the Grand Magician of the Order—”

“—of the Watery Crow!” I added triumphantly, unable to conceal a smile.

“I’d like to see you smile if you met up with this fellow. Although, maybe you would be the one who could really keep smiling,” Mackie said. “Loiso Pondoxo was so formidable, I still can’t imagine how Juffin managed to win that Battle. Perhaps I’m just used to considering him to be young and foolish. Most likely—it’s always like that with pupils. I guess it’s the same way with children. Well, then, to answer your question, it’s all very simple. The Down Home Diner is on all the maps, right?”

“Right.”

“You bet it is. It was my favorite tavern down through all the peaceful centuries. From here you may reach any destination you have in mind. Just use any of the maps that show the house where you’re staying. The bridges themselves will take you where you need to go. Just remember—if you ever get lost, try to find your way back to the Down Home Diner. It’s your point of reference, your touchstone.”

“Great!” I said. “But my heart tells me I’ll have to try to find Lonli-Lokli. What if he ended up in the Kettari where there’s no Old Riverbank Street?”

“Don’t worry. Your friend didn’t cross a single bridge. I’ll let you in on a little secret—he never even left the Country Home.”

“You’re kidding! And he calls that ‘entertainment’? What’s he been doing all this time, eating?”

“He’ll tell you all about it. Don’t worry about him, Max.”

“Thank you, Sir Mackie. I’m grateful to you for the coffee, and to Sir Maba for the cigarettes. I never dared hope—”

“We had nothing to do with it,” Sir Mackie Ainti said. “It was all your own doing. You always get what you want—sooner or later, somehow or other. Strictly speaking, that’s a very dangerous quality. Never mind, though, you’ll manage.”

“I get everything I want?” I was astonished.

This announcement, in my view, didn’t conform to reality at all. Just what “everything” did he mean?

“Yes, that’s what I said. But don’t forget—sooner or later, somehow or other. That changes things, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I sighed.

Then we both fell silent. I thought over the new formula for my own happiness, and Mackie observed this process with kind curiosity.

“As I understand it, I can come here anytime?” I asked, getting up to go.

“You? You sure can. Good night, Lady Marilyn.”

“Good night, Sir Mackie.”

I went outside, armed myself with the first map I hit upon, and turned toward my lodgings. I had to gather my thoughts, but the main thing was to make sure my new home still existed.

Everything went off without a hitch. The bridges led me back, just as Mackie had promised they would. And lucky for me, unlike Maba Kalox, he didn’t have the distressing habit of playing tricks on novices.

Making myself comfortable in the rocker that I had grown to like, I lit up a cigarette. The meaning of what Sir Mackie had told me was sinking in very slowly. I would have preferred to be a complete blockhead. My head was spinning in circles, my ears were ringing unpleasantly, the world consisted of a million tiny points of throbbing light, and, it seemed, it was about to implode.

Max, I told myself earnestly, get a grip on yourself, all right? Whatever those mighty Creators of the World may have done, it’s no reason for you to lose your mind.

This helped, as it had helped me occasionally in the past. I decided to take a bath. Twenty gallons or so of cold water on an overheated head is an ancient, time-tested remedy for all misfortune.

When I went back to the rocker, I lit up again and noticed with pleasure that the living room looked just as it was supposed to—without even the throbbing points of light. There was an ordinary human floor, ceiling, and four walls, all exactly where they were supposed to be.

“Okey-dokey,” I said out loud. “Now it’s safe to go wherever you wish, honey, whether to the Country Home in search of wayward Lonli-Lokli, or beyond the gates of the city to observe absolute emptiness, or whatever I’m supposed to discover there. I suspect that the first option is more tempting, but Sir Mackie was very insistent in urging the second on me, so—” I shut up then, as there was a clear hint of madness in that soliloquy. I smiled an apologetic smile at Marilyn, staring at me from the large antique mirror, then stood up and left the house with a determined air.

My legs took over and led me in an unknown direction, beyond the uncanny bridges and the narrow dark wrinkle of the Meaire River. To the city gates—where else would my crazy limbs be destined? It looked as though I had no choice but to go along with them.

Forty minutes later I was already walking along the ancient wall of the city. It was so high it seemed the inhabitants of Kettari had tried to block out the sky, and only after many centuries of stubborn effort finally abandoned the hopeless endeavor. I was able to find the gates easily. Too easily for my taste, since my fear was far stronger than my curiosity, and only a strange feeling of helpless doom pushed me to undertake this expedition. I passed quickly beyond the gates as I had once dived headfirst off an enormous cliff.

Instead of a yawning abyss, I was relieved to discover the massive silhouettes of the famous Vaxari trees, blacker than the sky. The greenish disk of the moon kindly agreed to light my path, and I gazed at it in gratitude. I had never thought a distant celestial body would do so much to help out a lowly human creature.

I found myself walking down a wide road. There was no doubt that it was the same road that our caravan had driven along into Kettari just yesterday. I ambled along straight ahead, realizing with pleasure that my mood was steadily improving. My silly, childish fears scattered into the dark lairs of my unconscious like scampering mice. For the time being, at least.

I don’t know how long this stroll lasted, but at a certain moment I noticed it was already getting light. I stopped abruptly and stared, flabbergasted, at the sky. It could hardly have been later than midnight when I left home, although . . .

Are you sure your sense of time is in working order? I asked myself. After the instructive conversation with Sir Mackie Ainti and your pathetic attempt not to cave in under that small avalanche of information?

I looked around, and my heart thudded behind my ribcage—but this time from joy rather than fear, though it was most likely a mixture of both. A few yards ahead I saw the end station of a cable car, and up ahead loomed a city in the mountains—the wondrous, seemingly uninhabited city in the mountains I always dreamed about. I was certain that these were the silhouettes of its massive buildings; its fragile, almost toy-like towers; and the white brick house on the edge of the city, atop its roof a weathervane like a parrot that spun even on a windless day.

This fantastic city was already quite near, and I realized I could use the cable car to reach it. It was the only means of municipal transport, as I well remembered. I also remembered that I was never afraid of heights sitting in the flimsy little car. I simply wasn’t afraid of anything there at all.

I crawled into the cable car as it slowly floated past, and ten minutes later I was standing on a narrow, crooked little street that I had been familiar with since childhood. Melamori, I thought, here’s a place where we could walk after all! How is it possible? A place so marvelous, and I’m all alone. I’m going to explode, it’s so wonderful. It’s too much for just me alone!

I didn’t explode, of course.

I knew this city better than the one where I was born. It seemed to me that now I had really come home. I had finally returned, not in my dreams, but for real, and wide awake.

I don’t remember all the details of this mind-boggling stroll. I can only say that I conscientiously walked around the entire city, the name of which I don’t know to this day. It was no longer uninhabited. Occasionally passersby would come my way. Their faces seemed vaguely familiar, and many of them greeted me cordially with strange guttural sounds. None of it really surprised me. I just remember that by the time my legs were numb with weariness, I sat down at a table in an outdoor café, and someone served me a tiny cup of Turkish coffee. An inch above the surface floated a puffy cloud of cream. You could either eat it, or spare it and just admire it. I took out a cigarette and snapped my fingers mechanically. A neat greenish flame burned close to my face. The cigarette started to puff smoke, and I took a drag, as though I had always been certain of my ability to summon fire.

Getting used to magic was a trifling matter—as long as it happened with the same regularity as ordinary events.

I continued on my way, crossing the empty English park (this place was from another dream altogether!), and was soon gazing on the eleven Vaxari trees by the city gates. Then I was in Kettari again. The tiny red ball of the sun was just resting on the horizon. I realized I was as tired as though I had been walking for a few days. Sinning Magicians, how long had I been roaming around? But did it even matter? Now I needed to go home. And sleep, sleep, sleep—come hell or high water!

Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli was waiting for me in the living room, sad and stern.

“I’m glad to see you in one piece,” he said. “When I got home, your absence didn’t seem strange. After all, we came to this city on business. But by the next day—”

“What? The next day! Gosh, how long was I gone?”

“To answer that question, I’d have to know when you left. I’ve been waiting for you for four days—but I was gone for a while myself.”

“Oh, my!” I groaned. “No time to sleep now. First, I have to figure this all out. Where is my only joy in life? Where is my sweet little bottle of Elixir?”

“In your traveling bag, I guess. I took the liberty of putting it in the closet, since you had managed to leave it right in the middle of the living room floor for all the World to see. For a while I thought maybe you had measured the room and made it the centerpiece for a special reason. Then I realized that wasn’t your style, and I cleared it out of the way.”

“Sir Shurf, what a nice treat!” I took a hefty gulp of Elixir of Kaxar. My weariness abated for a time. “Good Old Shurf, who’s not calling me ‘Lady Marilyn’ or braying like an insane donkey, but only lives to look after my welfare. I think I must have died and gone to heaven!”

“I don’t think it makes sense to call you ‘Lady Marilyn’ any more, just as it doesn’t make sense to stand on ceremony with someone who’s been with you through thick and thin, and has even gotten to know—”

“A very sweet and kind version of Shurf Lonli-Lokli,” I said with a laugh. “It’s for the best. Decorum has its place, but it’s only right that it should yield eventually to openhearted familiarity. But why no more ‘Lady Marilyn this’ and ‘Lady Marilyn that’?”

“Take a look in the mirror, Max. It’s lucky there aren’t many people in Kettari who know your face. I believe we’ll have to find our way out of here without the caravan, though. If, of course, we want to keep our mission a secret.”

I stared into the mirror in astonishment at a face that looked haggard, bedraggled, and exhausted. Goodness! Not just any face, but my own!

“Yikes!” I blurted out. “All my life I was sure I was anything but plain, but now . . . but how did Lady Marilyn’s pretty face get left behind? Actually, who could possibly know but me—and I haven’t the foggiest notion. So let’s talk about you, Sir Shurf. You probably haven’t spent the last few days in the best possible spirits? What I mean is that I should have sent you a call, but I felt sure I was only gone for—”

“I don’t know where you were, Max, but I tried to contact you several times.”

“And?”

“To no avail, as you might have guessed. But I knew you were alive, because—well, I tracked you down. I’m not as good at it as Lady Melamori, but I do know how, if you’ll remember. The trail of a living person is always distinct from that of a dead one, so I wasn’t afraid for your life. But duty required me to follow your trail, though from the very beginning I felt I shouldn’t meddle in your affairs. Anyway, the trail led me to the city gates, and there I had to turn back home. I felt I couldn’t pursue you further than that. It was a very unpleasant sensation. I hope I don’t have to experience it again. But at least I realized you weren’t in any danger.”

“I’m very sorry, Shurf,” I said. “You won’t believe where I was. My dream, the city in the mountains, the cable car—do you remember?”

Lonli-Lokli nodded.

“You don’t have to explain anything, Max. I have a feeling that that secret isn’t yours to tell. So it’s better to keep quiet, all right?”

“Yes, all right.” I stared at him in consternation. Then a light went on in my head. “Did you just have that same unpleasant sensation again that you had by the city gates?”

Lonli-Lokli nodded.

“Holy moley! In that case, I’ll zip my lips. In fact, I think I’ll go take a little snooze. After the Elixir two or three hours of sleep will be enough. Then you can tell me—no, you’d better tell me now, or I’ll die of curiosity. What have you been doing all this time? Not you, I mean, but him—that cheerful chap. How did he entertain himself?”

Lonli-Lokli frowned.

“I’m afraid the news isn’t very good, Max. He—that is, me—we played cards. It was so pleasant and exciting! Oh, I was just going to ask you, did you have any money on you when we parted? Because I have nothing left.”

“You blew all the money?” I laughed so hard I wanted to collapse to the chair, but missed and fell into a heap on the floor instead. “You lost all the money? How long did you play? A year? Two?”

“Two days and two nights,” Lonli-Lokli admitted in embarrassment. “But a round of Krak usually doesn’t last more than a dozen minutes, so—”

“I see. As for me, I have three crowns and a bit of change left. Never mind. We’ll survive. I have a lot of experience in frugal living. If worse comes to worst, we’ll just murder someone. It’s a piece of cake! Or become robbers. Do you know how to rob, Shurf? I’m sure you do.”

“Yes. It’s not a very sophisticated kind of trick,” he said somberly. “But I don’t think it would be right. We are serving the Crown, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I said quickly. My wonder-saturated body had been seeking an outlet for mild hysteria for some time already. “You’re delightful, Shurf! A fine fellow. And I’m a dolt. I was ready to rob a jewelry store. Well, we’ll live modestly, tighten our belts. Honest poverty has its advantages. I’ve read heaps of books that claim it does, anyway.”

“You’re a very magnanimous person, Max,” Lonli-Lokli said. “I assumed that you’d be quite displeased with me.”

“I’m not a bit magnanimous. It’s just that I have loads of more serious problems. And besides, it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have given you that joint.”

“Your treat afforded me great pleasure,” Shurf exclaimed. “A person needs a rest from himself, at least from time to time. As I understand it, that substance is available to you whenever you wish to have it?”

“Alas, no. Remember how surprised I was myself?”

“I understand. But if you ever . . . If I remember correctly, you don’t like to resort to this form of release, so . . . well, don’t throw that thing away, but hide it for me. Maybe someday, in several dozen years . . .”

“Well, in several dozen years, I figure I’ll be able to procure most anything at all!” I announced confidently. “You don’t want to have a good time before then?”

“Oh, no, Sir Max! How could I? A person shouldn’t neglect the opportunity for relaxation, but it’s inadmissible to indulge in it too often.”

“I’ll take that into account. How wise you are, Sir Shurf. You don’t mind if I just lie down here on this divan, do you? I’ve already grown used to it—I’ve never been upstairs to the bedroom. I don’t have the strength to get used to yet another new bed. Wake me up in two or three hours. I’ve got so much to do . . . don’t I?”

With these words, I closed my eyes and bid farewell to all the Worlds. I had no dreams, only one infinitely long moment of complete repose.

When I awoke, it was nearly dark in the living room. The windows let in a meager, dusky gray twilight. A fat greenish moon had already begun its triumphal ascent above the horizon. I looked around, dazed, to see Lonli-Lokli sitting stock-still in the rocker. He seemed to be practicing his breathing gymnastics.

“W-hat happened, Sir Shurf?” I mumbled in dismay. “I asked you to wake me up! Are you getting absentminded?”

“I did try wake you up,” Lonli-Lokli’s said. “In three hours, as you requested. I never could have imagined how lustily you can curse. I must admit, I didn’t understand more than half the words—but I jotted them down. And I would be much obliged to you if you would explain what they mean.”

“You jotted them down! Sinning Magicians, what did I say? I’m even curious myself. Come on, show me the list.”

“It’s quite dark in the room. We should probably light a lamp. You can’t see in the dark, as far as I know.”

“I don’t need a lamp. I’ll figure it out somehow. I’m not yet awake enough to be able to stand bright light.”

I took the neat, small piece of paper covered with Lonli-Lokli’s large, evenly spaced handwriting, and read the words. Well, I’ll be! Some of them were words I hadn’t even resorted to in my moments of greatest despair. I felt very ashamed.

“Ouch! Shurf, I’m terribly sorry! I hope you understand that I don’t think that way.”

“No need to trouble yourself with apologies, Max. I know very well that a person can say anything at all in his sleep. But I’m truly interested in what these words mean.”

“All right,” I sighed. “First I’ll bathe, and then we’ll go out somewhere to eat. Honestly, I’ll have to drink some courage if you want to hear a real translation and not some pathetic attempt to beat about the bush!”

“That’s a reasonable suggestion,” Shurf nodded. “I must admit, I’m hungry.”

“Oh, and our last pennies are in my pocket! What a scoundrel I am! Well, never mind. We’ll get back on our feet again.”

A half-hour later we were sitting in the Old Table, where I had breakfasted so enjoyably not long ago. As it turned out, the place became even cozier and livelier toward evening. In any case, according to our landlady, “some people spend every waking hour of the rest of their born days in the Country Home; and there’s nothing better closer to home.” As for the Down Home Diner, I would drop in there later, and alone. I had to play that game without Shurf—for the time being, anyway.

I began my “morning” with a jug of kamra and a glass of some sort of burning hot infusion. Drinking directly upon waking isn’t my style, but we had to celebrate the return of my own dearly beloved countenance. I had also promised to deliver a lecture on uncensored profanity for Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, seeker of fresh knowledge. Without a hefty dose of a strong beverage, this just wasn’t going to happen.

After I had started to relax, I examined Shurf’s handwritten list. He eagerly scooted closer to me.

“Well, this is nothing very exciting. Just a female dog. And this . . . how should I say it, Shurf—a man who is undeserving of respect and who has some serious problems with the plumbing in his backside. It’s a word that describes stupid people, although the root is directly connected to the process of reproduction.”

“Oh, that’s an entire science,” Lonli-Lokli said respectfully. “In my opinion it’s very hard to understand how it works.”

“Really? I never thought so. It’s fairly simple. Well, shall we go on?”

“Certainly.”

“Very well. Now this expression may be used interchangeably with the straightforward human expression ‘go away,’ but it makes the one on the receiving end doubt his own ability to procreate. And this is a kind of animal, and at the same time a man who is undeserving of respect, and who has problems with his back passage—”

“And what kinds of problems are they that beset the poor man?”

“It’s hard to say,” I muttered, frustrated. “Magicians be praised, nothing like that ever happened to me.”

In about fifteen minutes we had come to the end of the list. Toward the end I was inclined to blush; but Sir Lonli-Lokli was happy, and that was the main thing.

“I’ll probably go home to bed, if you don’t have any other plans for tonight,” my friend suggested uncertainly.

We had just left the cozy little tavern, and I was feverishly trying to think of a way to make my escape. I had an appointment to keep at the Down Home Diner with Sir Mackie Ainti.

“Sure, Shurf,” I said, secretly relieved. “I do have plans tonight, but—”

“I understand. It’s better this way. Since I came to after trying that strange herb, all I want to do is sleep.”

“All the better. Sweet sleep is an excellent thing. By the way, I really hope you weren’t terribly shocked by the cursing.”

“Why are you so worried, Max?” Lonli-Lokli asked, surprised. “Words are just that—words, and nothing more. Even if you had said them in a conscious state, I would have considered the situation to be more amusing than alarming.”

“You’ve taken a load off my chest! In that case, good night, Sir Shurf. I hope it won’t be three or four days before I return. After our meal I have just a little more than two crowns left. Here, you take one. At least we won’t starve.”

“I also hope I see you in the morning,” said Lonli-Lokli. “Thank you, Max. You are demonstrating enviable foresight.”

I didn’t even have to look at the map. I remembered the way to the Down Home Diner, although it was unusual for me not to be disoriented in an unfamiliar town. Soon I had arrived at the intersection of High Street and Fisheye Street. I had already heard the gurgling of the fountain several blocks away.

Sir Mackie was sitting in the same place, hunched over the Kettarian version of chess, as before. He was the only one in the hall.

“Welcome, partner,” he said, turning to me. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d go that far.”

“What do you mean?” I was taken aback.

“Stop pulling my leg. All right, all right—I just want to say that you cook up Worlds like nobody’s business. I wish I could do it so easily. True, you didn’t actually realize what you were doing, and so forfeited the lion’s share of pleasure. But that’s just a temporary hitch.”

I drew in a sharp breath. “Do you mean to say that this city of my dreams wasn’t there before? I was the one who—”

“Sit down and take a breather, Max. You seem to have several primitive, but extremely effective ways of making yourself relax. Go ahead. Hellika!”

The smiling tavernkeeper appeared at his table instantly. Rather than sitting down with Sir Mackie, I went over to the place I had been sitting the first time. Mackie stopped his solitary game and came over to join me. Judging by the expression on his face, I had done the right thing.

“Hellika, sweetheart, this boy wants the same thing he had last time. As usual, I don’t need a thing, to my great consternation.”

She nodded and vanished. I shrugged. Another miracle, big deal!

“Sir Mackie, tell me how—”

“‘How!?’ Pshaw! That’s something I’m not able to tell you. The world is full of inexplicable things. There’s just one thing I can say to you: from the very start I expected something like this. That’s why I suggested you take a walk outside the city gates. I was right, as you could see. Kettari used to be surrounded by emptiness, and now a marvelous city has sprung up out there—a city very much to my taste. And with a splendid park, too! And stop calling me ‘sir,’ partner. That just doesn’t cut it. Ah, here’s your preferred beverage! You’ve earned it, there’s no gainsaying it! Did you ever think that someone would be paying you with a cup of coffee for creating a World?”

“Coffee’s not a bad form of currency. I’m fine with it. But what I would like to know is what happened to Lady Marilyn? Can you at least tell me that? Sir Kofa devoted a lot of time and energy to casting that spell. I was supposed to go around with that fetching face and hairdo for at least a few dozen days, if not longer.”

“It’s a strange story,” Sir Mackie said with a wink. “I’ve never seen the like, I must say. She just really took a fancy to that park.”

“What?”

“The park! You heard right. You see, that park of yours—it was no ordinary park. I had to do some serious scoutin’ before I could figure that one out. In short, these days there’s one pretty ghost wandering around in your favorite park. The ghost doesn’t hold any grudges, though. Lady Marilyn still preserves her easy-going nature, so don’t worry on that score.”

“This is too much!” I said. “All my life I was sure that the creator of something certainly had to be aware of what he was creating.”

“And now you know that’s not so. Experience isn’t the worst way to come by reliable information, what do you say? Drink up that foul-smelling stuff of yours, or it’ll get cold.”

“The smell of coffee is just something you have to get used to,” I said, smiling.

“I’m willing to believe it! Well, I’ll have to try it anyway. In that amusing city born of your tenderness and solitude, everyone drinks that stuff, don’t they?”

“I don’t doubt it. But what do you mean by ‘tenderness and solitude’? That’s just a manner of speaking, right?”

“It’s just a habit of mine to tell it like it is. Someday you’ll understand that these were the feelings that governed you when you first saw the vague outline of that place that never existed until you summoned it up. Don’t rush it, Max. You’ll have plenty of time to get to the bottom of your own escapades. The main thing is that they succeed—and so easily! Too easily I might have said; but no one asked me now, did they? But why should I waste my breath heaping praise on you? And praise really isn’t called for, since everyone just does what he can, whether he wants to or not. Did you want to ask me something, Max?”

All my carefully prepared questions had vanished from my head. Never mind, they weren’t important. I lit a cigarette, anticipating my enjoyment, and looked at Mackie with avid interest.

“And can you explain to me why you—or, why we, together—are doing all this? I mean why do we need to create new Worlds at all? I suspect that even without our help there are an infinite numbers of them.”

“Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t stand that darn-fool word ‘why’? Try using it a little less often. Or, better yet, drop it altogether. At least when you’re talking to me. ‘Why’ isn’t the right way of putting the question when you’re talking about creating a new World. Everything that’s truly interesting and worthwhile exists somewhere beyond the realm of cause and effect.”

Mackie tossed his head angrily, and methodically lit his short, oddly shaped pipe. Then he smiled under his mustache and went on, his tone much gentler now.

“Worlds, both inhabited and deserted, are far more numerous than you’re able to imagine. But we have to do something, you and I, don’t we? And then, who knows, maybe it’ll turn out better for us than it has thus far for others. Not a bad reason either, is it? Is that enough for you?”

“To be honest, no.”

“Well, ask Juffin sometime. There’s one who never objected to the word ‘why.’ On the contrary, he always loved to explain the reasons behind his own and others’ actions. And it’s easier for you two to communicate—you’re almost the same age.”

“The same age!”

“Well, compared to me, anyway. I can’t even remember how long I’ve been knocking about the World. It’s like I just got lost here at some point and then decided to stay. Though I’m not at all sure that’s really how it was.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“All my life I wanted to live forever. Let others die, I thought, but I’ll hold out, somehow. And now you’ve given me hope.”

“Hope is a darn-fool feeling,” Sir Mackie said sternly, tossing his head again. “It’s best not to hope for anything, that’s my advice to you. Well now, let’s drop these serious matters. I have something else to discuss with you. From what I hear, your companion doesn’t know about any of this?”

“That’s something I wanted to ask you. Poor Lonli-Lokli couldn’t get beyond the city gates. When he tried it made him feel sick and uncomfortable. I wanted to let him know about my city in the mountains. He saw my dream, too, one time. Why should I have to hide something like that from Shurf? Besides, he’s good at keeping secrets.”

“I’m not the one you should be asking,” Mackie said, smiling. “A newborn World is always very capricious. They have their own idiosyncrasies. Take Juffin, for example. It never wants him to get too close to it. Why might that be? No idea. Though if anyone should know, it’s me. Honestly, I don’t have a lot to say in the matter. Maybe later, at home, your friend can hear the whole story without even wincing. I think that’s how it’s likely to unfold. But I do have a request that’s more for your friend than for you. Alas, I’m unable to invite him here.”

“A request?” I asked, surprised. “You have a request for Lonli-Lokli?”

“Yes. That comes as a surprise to you?”

“Of course it does. I didn’t think there was anything you lacked or couldn’t take care of yourself.”

“Well, to be honest, it’s not that I can’t take care of it myself, but that I don’t want to. I’m lazy, you know. And then, this matter will be quite intriguing for your friend, you’ll see. As far as the caprices of newborn Worlds are concerned, what they’re always ready to indulge is any kind of culprit or evil spirit. Not long ago, a gentleman showed up in these parts—someone I didn’t take a liking to at all. Not that he’s all that dangerous for the locals, but it’s unpleasant for me to have to be aware of his constant presence.”

“Another Mutinous Magician?”

“Worse, Max. A Dead Magician. Believe me, there’s no evil spirit more restless than a Grand Magician killed unjustly. And your friend is an expert in such matters, as I understand it.”

“You got that right.” I smiled. “He’ll take care of him in no time.”

“Well, I don’t know about ‘in no time’—I think you’re being a bit hasty there. But he’ll take care of him, I’m pretty sure. Just tell your companion that Kiba Attsax is on the loose. That’ll be enough, you’ll see.”

“Sure, I’ll tell him. Is that all?”

“You can also say it’s a big problem, that in Kettari things were just fine till that ornery varmint came around. That claim is very close to the truth, and a person should always be sure he’s doing something important. It’s more pleasant that way, and things will progress better.” He rose from his chair. “Well, I’d say you’ve had enough of my company for one day. Last time it was a bit too much for you, wasn’t it? Did it take long for you to recover?”

“Twenty gallons of cold water on my poor crazy head. The secret cure of Sir Maba of Echo, or Magicians only know where he’s from. Seriously, Mackie—I almost went totally bonkers! Maybe you’ve got a better cure?”

“A long walk. But it’s even better to busy yourself with something completely meaningless. Doesn’t matter what. Read a book. Play cards with someone. The main thing is not to sit in one place, and not to try to reason it all out. Nothing will come of it, no matter how hard you try. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said. “Well, I’ll think of something. By the way, you don’t happen to know the name of that city? My city in the mountains, I mean?”

“No idea. You should have asked the people who live there. G’night, partner!”

“Good night, Mackie. I’m off to do something meaningless, as you suggest. That’s what I do best.”

I left the Down Home Diner with fairly firm plans for the night ahead. For one thing, I was determined not to lose my mind. And I liked Mackie’s idea about taking up cards. I reckoned it would give me a chance not only to pass the time pleasantly, but also to improve Shurf’s and my financial situation.

It was a fairly casual proposition, but not a groundless one—I could play a mean game of Krak. Sir Juffin Hully himself had taught me to kill time that way. And he was the luckiest card player in the Unified Kingdom.

Then some hundred-odd years ago, the late Gurig VII issued a special proclamation that prohibited Sir Juffin from playing Krak in public places. The old King was forced to take this measure after the fortunes of several dozen of his courtiers migrated into the pockets of the enterprising Kettarian. Juffin, by the way, didn’t object. There was no one left who could keep him company at the card table, and the unprecedented Royal Proclamation flattered him no end.

With me, Juffin played purely for pleasure, of course, since this took place at the time I was still financially dependent on him. Anyway, the first day, after a dozen embarrassing losses, I won two games against Sir Juffin Hully. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The next evening, we continued playing. Our luck fluctuated. I still lost more often than my experienced teacher. But, in Juffin’s words, even that was highly improbable.

I should note that I myself saw nothing improbable in it. Already as a child, I had concluded that a great deal depends on who teaches you to play a game. It doesn’t really have anything to do with pedagogical gifts—you just need to learn from a lucky player. If you do, in addition to getting useful information about the rules of the game, some of your teacher’s luck will rub off on you, too.

For this small discovery, I had my unusual lifestyle to thank—rich in nighttime pursuits and friends, lucky and not-so-lucky, who managed to teach me every card game known to man.

So I had the opportunity to compare, and then draw my conclusion. When I proudly announced this conclusion to Juffin, he nodded absently, which could very easily have passed for agreement.

In any case, I had nothing to lose except one crown and a few bits of loose change, the entire paltry fortune that remained to me and Lonli-Lokli. If I lost, it wouldn’t be a great disaster. Otherwise I would just end up spending these riches in the first diner I came across, on some junk like the local liqueur—the mere thought of which, frankly speaking, turned my stomach.

I headed resolutely in the direction of Cheerful Square. I had no doubt about what the customers at the Country Home were doing at the spacious bar at the back of the main dining hall. I had a reliable witness—Sir Lonli-Lokli, who had lost his shirt.

There was one hitch in this whole affair. I hate playing with strangers. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but it seems I am really quite shy. But no one could help me there. And anything was better than sitting in the living room, watching poor Max lose his mind. A few trivial problems might make you forget about your one and only true problem. I crossed the brightly lighted dining hall of the Country Home and headed straight for the bar, plunged in semidarkness, where I found the epicenter of Kettarian card-playing society, just as I had predicted.

I sat down on a barstool, and without much deliberation ordered some Jubatic Juice. This was a tried and true beverage. In sufficient quantities, not only would it cure me of shyness, I wouldn’t even hesitate to sit, lost in thought, in a glass bathroom in the middle of the city’s central square after imbibing enough of it. For a while I wondered, would it be too dramatic to light up a cigarette without leaving my seat in the middle of the hall? Lonli-Lokli was at home asleep, and there was no one to keep an eye on me.

Finally, I decided that the more exotic I looked, the better. The sooner the locals understood I was a simple alien dork, the better were my chances of being invited to join in their sordid doings. A big gulp of Jubatic Juice gave me courage in my reckless, but essentially judicious, decision.

I waved aside all my qualms and lit up. If only poor Sir Kofa, the unsurpassed master of masquerade, could see me now! After all his efforts, here I was sitting in the middle of Kettari with my own inelegant face and unkempt hair, smoking something that doesn’t even exist in this World, and planning to drink some courage and fraternize with the locals! But whom did I need to hide from in this nonexistent city, in this heart of a new World—a World, moreover, that I myself was helping to create? It was crazy, but it made sense. So I finished my cigarette with great enjoyment, took a few more swigs from my huge glass, and reached demonstratively for the yellowish-gold, already half-empty, pack.

“Well, you seem to be rather bored, sir,” someone behind me observed politely.

“I can’t tell you how bored I am. Since the moment I arrived in Kettari I’ve been dying of it.”

I almost laughed out loud at my own awkward fabrication, as I turned to face the person who had addressed me.

Well, what a surprise! It was an old acquaintance of mine, Mr. Abora Vala, our Master Caravan Leader in the flesh. He didn’t recognize me, of course. Lady Marilyn, the most beloved of the fictitious wives of that passionate gambler Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, was the one who had traveled in his caravan.

The fellow studied my face curiously.

“Have you been suffering from boredom in Kettari for a long time already?” he asked casually.

“Five days or so, why?”

“Oh, no reason. I just know most of the visitors to Kettari by face, and yours is unfamiliar.”

“It would be strange if it were familiar to you. I arrived here to visit my aunt five days ago, as I’ve already said. And she didn’t consider it proper to end the dinner celebration for my arrival until half an hour ago. She went to sleep it off; then she’ll start preparing another feast for my departure, I’m sure. That’s why today is the first day I’ve ventured outside in the five blasted days since I arrived!”

In my mind I gave myself an A for quick-wittedness, thought a bit, then added a “plus.”

“Ah, that explains it,” my new-old friend nodded. “I’m acquainted, you see, with the visitors who arrive in Kettari on my caravan. And your aunt, I presume, met you herself?”

“Yes, she sent her sonny boy to some roadside tavern to pick me up. The blockhead is already about two hundred years old, but he’s still a mama’s boy. Can you beat that?”

“Yes, that’s the way it is sometimes,” the gray-haired gentleman agreed politely. “It sounds like you’re sick and tired of your relatives?”

I nodded mournfully. By that time, I had so warmed up to my role that I began sincerely to hate my hypothetical silly aunt and her hypothetical dimwit of a son, my cousin.

“Would you like some diversion?” he asked innocently. “Excuse me for being so forward, but that’s our custom around here. My friends have been enjoying their game for an hour, and I have no partner. We’re not playing for high stakes, so you won’t be risking your fortune.”

You’re darn straight I won’t, I thought maliciously. A certain cheerful and overzealous fellow already had.

“My name is Ravello,” he said.

Oh no it isn’t, you debonair player, you—it’s Abora Vala, as I recall.

“Don’t be shy, sir,” this cavalier liar whispered to me. “In Kettari it’s the custom to dispense with ceremony in making one another’s acquaintance, in particular if the gentlemen have the chance to while away the evening at a game of Krak. What is that you’re smoking, if I may ask?”

“This? A friend of mine brought it back with him from somewhere—from Kumon, I believe, the capital of the Kumon Caliphate.” I had read this name in Manga Melifaro’s Encyclopedia of the World, and, to be honest, I wasn’t sure whether such a place really existed. I truly hoped he hadn’t gotten it wrong.

“The chap is a merchant, or pirate—you never know with these sailors,” I added. “You’ve never seen anything like these smoking sticks before?”

“Never.”

This time I had every reason to believe that Mr. “Ravello” was telling the truth.

“And where are you from yourself?” he asked me.

“From the County Vook, the Borderlands. Isn’t it obvious from my accent? Well, let’s play, then, if you haven’t reconsidered. But no high stakes.”

“One crown per game?” my tempter suggested.

I whistled. Right—no high stakes.

The speed at which Lonli-Lokli had emptied our money pouch no longer seemed so improbable to me.

“Half a crown,” I insisted. “I’m not such a rich man, especially tonight.”

He nodded. A half crown for a game is no small potatoes either, I thought.

The only thing left to do now was to place my hopes in Sir Juffin’s success. Two losses, and I could begin to undress, or go home—which wasn’t really part of my plan.

We finally settled down at a small table by the far corner of the bar. Several pairs of sly Kettarian eyes stared at me from the nearby tables. I shivered. I felt sure they were going to try to bamboozle me. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew they would try.

“Be so kind as to tell me your name, sir,” “Ravello” probed cautiously. “Perhaps you have your reasons for not introducing yourself, but I have to address you in some way or other.”

“My name? Of course, it’s no secret.” I deliberated a moment. “Sir Marlon Brando, at your service.”

It was completely logical. Who else could accompany Marilyn Monroe? A bird of the same feather.

Of course, “Ravello” was no more surprised than Sir Juffin had been upon hearing my choice of names for Marilyn. Such is the fleeting nature of earthly fame. Whoever you might be in one World, in another World you might as well be nobody.

“You can just call me Brando,” I said. If this fellow started calling me by my full name, I’d laugh in his face for sure.

I won the first two games easily and swiftly, to my great relief. Now at least I had a bit of breathing space—enough for four more hands anyway. And by that time, my poor head, tormented by incomprehensible matters, would be right as rain again. Well, that’s what I was hoping.

I lost the third game due to sheer stupidity. Mr. Abora Vala, alias Ravello, was suddenly no longer nervous. He realized I was that very provincial numbskull he had taken me for at first, and that I had just gotten lucky. I took this into account. If I started winning again, I’d have to force myself to lose from time to time. Otherwise my newfound friend would get bored.

Then I won four times in a row. Mr. Ravello began to get agitated and I realized needed to cut short my winning streak for a time. The fellow dealt the cards. I looked at mine and discovered that I wouldn’t be able to lose even if I wanted to. My paltry intellectual baggage was incapable of letting me lose with a hand like that. So I won again. It was pitiful to look at my partner. A thief who has just been robbed is a sorry spectacle. I took my cigarettes out of my pocket.

“Care to try one, Ravello? If there’s anything good about living in that backward caliphate, it’s the fine tobacco.”

“Really?” the distracted fellow asked with some hesitation. His furtive eyes stared at me as if trying to detect a local cardsharper behind Marlon Brando’s disguise. But my strange accent and the exotic taste of my cigarettes clearly witnessed to other, faraway origins. We started in on the next round. After considerable effort I managed not only to lose, but also demonstrated my indisputable dimwittedness. This worked to my advantage. I decided to raise the stakes.

“I seem to have just gotten richer,” I said thoughtfully. “And in an hour I think I’ll want to turn in. What do you say we raise the stakes to a crown per game?”

It was amusing to look at Mr. Ravello. The struggle between greed and caution on his expressive face was something to behold. I understood his problem perfectly. On the one hand, I was too lucky by far; on the other, I was a perfect dolt. Moreover, if the stakes were raised in the hour remaining, there would be plenty of time for him to win it all back. Otherwise, who could say? Of course, he agreed. The fellow was both daring and cunning—just ripe for taking the bait.

Then I won six rounds so easily I was surprised myself. My theory about inheriting a sizable chunk of luck from your card-playing mentor proved to be a sound one. Here was the proof, clear as day. Sir Juffin must have a huge surplus of this blasted luck.

“Not having any luck today, Ravello?” someone asked with studied indifference from the nearby table.

Up to now, the other patrons hadn’t paid the slightest bit of attention to our game.

He’s probably the local champion, some sort of rescue squad. Now he’ll have to come to grips with me. In my joy, I ordered another glass of Jubatic Juice. I never thought I’d let myself go like this.

“No luck,” my partner admitted mournfully.

“Well, if you’re not having any luck, you’d better go home and go to bed,” the new gentleman advised. “The moon is out tonight, and you haven’t so much as glanced at it.”

“You’re right about that, Tarra,” my victim said with a sigh. “Today the only luck I’m going to see is when my head’s on my pillow. But Mr. Brando here isn’t tired yet, is he?” He looked at me quizzically.

Not a chance, I said to myself. I guess the idea was that this local ace would step in and save the day. Well, we’ll just have to see about that. I’m rather curious to see how it will turn out myself.

“I think I’m just getting the hang of it,” I said, assuming the bemused expression of a victor who has won by chance rather than skill. “But if you want to stop the game, I won’t insist.”

“My friend’s name is Tarra. As far as I know, his partner, Mr. Linulan is always expected home by this time. But Tarra is a solitary man. Maybe you’d like to keep him company?” Ravello asked. It seemed I was meant to take the bait; and take the bait I did.

Mr. Tarra closely resembled his predecessor. He even had the same silvery gray hair surrounding a long-nosed face of indeterminate age. Is it just coincidence, or a widespread Kettarian phenotype? I wondered. Maybe it’s even simpler than that—they’re brothers, and this is a family business. Without engaging in too much idle chit-chat, Mr. Tarra and I got down to work. Suffice it to say, the so-called Mr. Ravello had the temerity not to go anywhere at all, but just to move to the next table. Of course, I pretended not to notice.

I lost the first round without much difficulty. Evidently, my new partner really was an ace. I won the second, though, since my luck seemed to be just revving up.

“Two?” I suggested.

“Two crowns per game?” Tarra drew out the words. “Well, I’ll be, Brando. You’re a guy who likes to take risks, aren’t you? Three!”

“Three it is!” I tried my best to look like a fool you could reason with.

Then I won six games in a row. I realized that Mr. Tarra might also be overcome by a sudden need for sleep, so I quickly lost two in a row. My new partner played well enough that it didn’t take much effort to lose to him.

“Six!” he wagered, after his second win. I nodded, and then won almost a dozen games. It happened so fast he didn’t know what hit him.

“Good morning, gentlemen, It’s already getting light,” I said as I stretched and stood up.

“Are you leaving already, Brando?” Tarra asked. It seemed to have just dawned on him that his money was leaving with me. “You could at least give me a chance to win it back.”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” I said. “You’d only lose more. Don’t be sad, friend! You’ll get lucky someday, too. Kettari’s full of tourists, as far as I understand. It’s just that your moon is crazy about me!”

“Moon? Well, well, well . . .” my partner drawled in confusion. “Who taught you to play Krak, Brando?”

“My aunt. You’re lucky she hasn’t left her house in three hundred years. Don’t grieve, Tarra. There won’t be any more visitors like me in Kettari in your century. You really can play! I hardly had to try at all to let you win now and then.”

“To let me win! Are you mocking me?” The fellow seemed to take it as an insult.

“Well, of course I had to lose occasionally,” I said in a conciliatory tone. “But it hasn’t been such a great blow to your business, has it? So a good morning to you all. I’m going to call it a night.”

With that, I left the sweet place, hoping wih all my heart that I wouldn’t have to play the hero in a big fistfight.

Nope! Made it out without a scratch.

At home, I carefully counted my winnings.

Eighty-one crowns and some change—a whole handful of it. It was still far less than Shurf had in his pouch before his charming antics got underway, but at least we could live like people again. I looked around. Lonli-Lokli was probably sleeping upstairs, and I decided I could sleep a spell, too. Right here, on the short divan I had already grown so fond of. Too short, to be honest, but I’m a creature of habit. That’s for sure. After thinking about it a while, I wrote a note: “Wake me at noon! No matter what,” and attached it to the wall above my head. We had things to do today.

This time I was shaken violently out of my sleep. Sir Shurf is nothing if not disciplined. And very thoughtful—he had prepared the bottle of Elixir of Kaxar beforehand, so my morning suffering lasted just a few seconds.

“Thanks, Shurf.” I was already able to smile not only at my tormenter, but at the pathologically bright noonday sun.

“I have two pieces of good news. First, we’re rich.”

“Max, I hope you didn’t do anything that—”

“That I wouldn’t risk telling the Police General Boboota Box? No, I just decided to find out what you found so fascinating in the local game of chance. I completely agree with you. It was great!”

“You mean to tell me you played cards with the locals? I never thought you’d turn out to be a cardsharper.”

“A cardsharper? Give me a break! I’m a very honest fellow. Just luckier than they are.”

“How much did you win?”

“Count it,” I said proudly. “You can subtract one crown and some change—that’s what I started out with. I’m going to bathe.”

When I came back to the living room, Lonli-Lokli gazed at me in almost suspicious admiration.

“Your talents truly are inexhaustible,” he declared solemnly.

“Oh, no, they’re limited, believe me. I don’t know how to sing, to fly, or bake Chakkatta Pie. Let’s go get some breakfast, Shurf. Good gracious, it’s nice not to have to count every penny.”

We breakfasted at the Old Table, where we had been the day before. The dyed-in-the-wool conservative who told me to leave well enough alone had gained the upper hand in me. The hospitable tavern-mistress recognized us, which was gratifying in itself. But my appetite was roaming around elsewhere and promised to catch me later. On the other hand, Lonli-Lokli ate for two people. This touched me. I felt like a concerned father and sole breadwinner. A strange feeling.

“What about the second?” Shurf asked suddenly, still chewing his food.

“The second what?” I have to admit, I had clean forgotten.

“This morning you said there were two pieces of good news. That we were rich was the first. What was the second? Or is it—”

“A secret? No, Shurf, this news is especially for you. A bit of work for your capable hands, after which we can split this crazy town in good conscience. You see, a certain Sir Kiba Attsax is wandering around Kettari, if I’m not mistaken about his name.”

“You’re not mistaken.”

“Well, it’s excellent that his name is familiar to you. As I understand it, things in Kettari are just fine and dandy—but the presence of this gentleman changes the picture somewhat.”

“I understand,” Lonli-Lokli said somberly. “Everything in Kettari is just hunky-dory. I’m glad you’re so certain about that.”

“Shurf,” I said gently. “Take my word for it. Things are fine in Kettari. Something very strange did happen here—but it’s most likely a good thing. I like it, I must say. And Juffin will, too, as far as I can foresee. But this gentleman must be stopped dead. His presence may destroy everything. What, did I spoil your appetite, Shurf?”

“No, it has nothing to do with you. You know that the person whose name you just mentioned died quite a long time ago?”

“I know. That seems to make matters even worse.”

“It certainly does. It’s always harder to come to grips with a dead Magician than a living one. What else do you know, Max?”

“That’s all.” I shrugged. “I thought you would know how to find him and all that.”

“Finding him won’t be hard. I’m curious about what you know about Kiba Attsax.”

“Nothing. Only that he’s a dead Magician, and he somehow poses a threat to Kettari. Or intends to. I didn’t quite understand. Oh yes, of course! He’s an ‘unjustly killed Grand Magician.’ Strange way of putting it, isn’t it?”

“Why strange? That’s the way it was. When I killed him I didn’t know how it was done. Moreover, I didn’t realize I was killing him.”

“You killed him?” I finally began to understand. “He wasn’t by any chance the original owner of your gloves?”

“The left one, to be exact. The owner of the right one is one of the junior Magicians of the Order of the Icy Hand. I would have far less trouble with him.”

I was starting to feel very uneasy. “Listen, Shurf, I remember your story very well. But it would never have occurred to me that . . . I suppose it’s not absolutely necessary to deal with this fellow. Let him—”

“You don’t understand, Max,” Lonli-Lokli cut me off gently but firmly. “I’m not afraid of an encounter with him. It’s more like I can’t believe my luck.”

“Your ‘luck’? I don’t understand a thing, I guess.”

“Of course it’s a rare opportunity. To meet Kiba Attsax, not in my sleep, when I’m quite vulnerable, but wide awake, when I can do battle with him. I think you can understand how lucky I am.”

“Judging by the expression on your face, I wouldn’t have thought it,” I murmured.

“That’s natural. I have to consider the situation that has come about, and try to understand how I should behave. You see, Max, it’s not every day that a person is given the chance to relieve himself of such a heavy burden. And I can’t allow myself to make any mistakes, so I think I need to begin to act right away.”

“We,” I said. “I’m a third-rate fighter, Shurf, and not a very good sorcerer. Maybe I’m just good at the card table. Or when I spit poison—that I know how to do. But I’m very curious. Do you think I’d be satisfied with a short synopsis of this Battle of the Titans? No offense, Shurf, but your oratorical style is quite laconic. Besides, I’m lucky here in Kettari. So you can take me with you as your talisman.”

“Very well,” Lonli-Lokli said with an air of indifference. “Maybe your luck will be far more useful than my skill. Besides, I have to obey you.”

“Oh, I forgot!” I burst out laughing. “Instruction number one: act like you don’t notice anything.”

Lonli-Lokli looked at me in surprise. I took my next-to-last cigarette out of my pocket. Sir Maba Kalox could have been a bit more generous; I deserved a few packs of cigarettes, at least. I don’t have time to hang over that blasted pillow all the time. I’m out there creating Worlds, or playing cards. I laughed, and lit up.

“Max, don’t you think that’s too much?” Lonli-Lokli asked sternly.

“No,” I replied. “I’ll explain later if you want me to. For the time being, just do my bidding, since I’m the big boss. By the way, instruction number two: banish from you head all this nonsense about doing my bidding. I’d never advise anything very sensible anyway. Eat, Sir Shurf. Nothing’s worth a spoiled appetite.”

“That pearl of wisdom could have dropped from the lips of the ancients,” Lonli-Lokli said placidly.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye—could he have learned how to joke? No, I was hallucinating. My nerves had always been unreliable.

“Well, let’s go look for your friend,” I suggested when Shurf’s plate was finally emptied. “By the way, how will we do it? Can you pick up his trail?”

“Sometimes you say the oddest things, Max,” Lonli-Lokli said. “How, I wonder, can you pick up the trail of a dead man?”

“Me? I never intended to pick up his trail at all. It’s not my department. Do I look like Melamori?”

“You’re wrong there. You can do it; you just have to try. But it’s not the proper topic of discussion now.”

“What do you mean ‘not the proper topic of discussion’?” I said indignantly. “It wouldn’t ever have occurred to me that I could do anything like that. Will you teach me how to pick up a scent, Shurf?”

“Sir Juffin gave no orders. He’s not sure of the consequences, and I’m not the one to decide something like this. You can ask him yourself when we get back.”

I sighed again. It seemed that in this crazy world everyone was fully briefed about my hidden talents but me.

“Fine, Shurf. What a bunch of conspirators you all are. How are we going to sniff out this dead granddad of a Magician? Do we look for the smell of carrion, or—”

“Don’t be foolish,” Lonli-Lokli said coldly. “We’re going home.”

“Home?”

“Of course. I need my gloves.”

“Oh, right. See what an idiot I am? Then what?”

“Then it’s very simple. Simpler than simple,” Lonli-Lokli said. “But you probably don’t understand. Now I need the left glove, but not so I can do battle with him. It would never harm its owner; rather the contrary. But it will make finding him very easy.”

“Wait,” I said, growing alarmed. “How do you intend to fight him without—”

“We’ll see,” Lonli-Lokli said with a shrug. “I hope you don’t believe that I can’t do anything without gloves?”

“Of course I don’t think that, but . . . Well, it would be better if they were on our side, your ‘mitts with a mind of their own,’ that’s for sure.”

“Of course it would be better,” said Shurf. “Let’s go, Max. I’ll need some time to get ready, and I’d very much like to meet up with Kiba before the moon rises.”

“Does the moon empower creatures like him?” I asked fearfully, lifting my behind from the seat of the chair in alarm.

“No. It’s just that when Kiba Attsax and his assistant came after me in my sleep, the moon was out. I didn’t like the spectacle one bit.”

“I see,” I nodded. “I do see, and that’s a fact.”

“I’m sure you do. Who could understand things like that, if not you?”

When we got home, Lonli-Lokli headed straight for the bedroom. When he was on the stairs, he turned around unexpectedly.

“Don’t come upstairs while I’m there, Max. There are things that can’t be done in the company of others—you know that yourself.”

“I understand. I also have to get ready for your colossal battle, by the way. I’m going to be very nervous tonight, you know, and that means I’ll be smoking a lot of cigarettes. And I’m completely out. So I’m going to do some sorcery. Maybe something you like will come my way, too.” I made the last remark to an already closed door.

“Oh, boy,” I said aloud, seating myself more comfortably next to my favorite pillow, which, through Maba Kalox’s kind attentions, had long since ceased to be only a pillow, and had become a plug in the Chink between Worlds. I had already thrust my hand underneath it, ready to wait patiently for my catch. My hand grew numb almost immediately, and I withdrew it in confusion. I had acquired a whole box of chocolates. Sweet, I punned. What was happening to me? I thrust my hand under the pillow again and was surprised at how swiftly it sank into the unknown. A half hour later I was the proud owner of several bags of cookies, a collection of keys, four silver spoons, and a box of expensive Cuban cigars, which I had never learned to smoke since I had never been able to afford them. I stared at the treasures in bewilderment. What the devil was going on? Until now I had only succeeded in getting hold of cigarettes—and I was perfectly content with things that way. Somewhat at a loss, I sent a call to Maba Kalox.

Sir Kalox, can you enlighten me about what’s happening? You taught me to catch cigarettes, not all this junk!

I have nothing to do with it, Max! You learn magic completely on your own. You’re just diversifying. What’s the problem?

That’s great, I said plaintively. But I still can’t get used to the local tobacco.

It’s a matter of taste. Personally, I like it. Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. Don’t get too attached to the pillow. Try it with other objects. The main thing is not to see what your hand is doing—that will only throw things off. You happen to have some free time, I know. So just practice. And don’t waste time with trifles anymore. And Sir Kalox disappeared from my mind.

After a time, it occurred to me that I had easily gotten through to Sir Maba, who was in Echo, I presumed. Maybe that meant I could finally contact Juffin?

After the first try, I realized it was futile. Dead silence, as before. I tried once more, just so no one could say I hadn’t. Nothing.

Could this mean that Sir Maba was also lurking around Kettari? It’s becoming a very fashionable watering hole, I told my reflection aloud. Then I got down to work again, which I won’t deny was quite entertaining . . . It turned out that I could get a pizza right from under my favorite divan. After the third pizza, I realized this was the limit of the divan’s capabilities. I stuck my hand under the rocker. A bottle of grappa, then a can of Belgian beer. All right, got that figured out. That’s where they keep the drinks. But it was high time for a cigarette. I had only one left. Well, live and learn! I stuffed my hand in the pocket of my looxi almost mechanically—and to my astonishment, it grew numb almost immediately. I quickly drew my hand from my pocket. I couldn’t believe my eyes! There was a golden-yellow pack. A full pack of my favorite cigarettes, a hole in the heavens above your head! Unopened! But of course, where should you find cigarettes but in your own pocket? I stuck my hand in the same pocket again, and out came the crumpled, empty pack I had counted on finding from the very first. My head felt giddy from my own power, so I had to smoke and calm down a little. And try to get a grip on myself. These miracles were all well and good, but I still had to take charge of the situation somehow.

“What’s that, Max?” Lonli-Lokli asked in surprise. I hadn’t heard him come downstairs. The protective gloves, covered with runes, adorned his already enormous hands.

“Food from another World,” I said with a weary sigh. “It seems today I’m on a roll, though I’m quite baffled myself. You’re not hungry, yet? It might do you good. Maybe it’s wonder-food?”

“Maybe,” Lonli-Lokli drawled, sniffing cautiously at the pizza. “It does seem edible.” He tore off a piece, chewed it a while, then shrugged. “You know, I don’t really like it.”

“I don’t like it much, either,” I said, feeling a bit guilty. “Let’s try the chocolates. Do you want a drink, by any chance? A shot of courage, and all that? Do you have your holey vessel with you?”

To my surprise, Lonli-Lokli nodded enthusiastically and drew from his looxi the bottomless cup.

“In any case, I intended to resort to this, since I need to try every possible means,” he explained. “And a drink from another World could only increase my chances of victory.”

“So all my efforts weren’t in vain!”

It took only a minute to open the bottle, and I poured the grappa into the holey cup.

“May I try, perhaps? I mean, drinking from your crazy vessel?”

Lonli-Lokli stared at me, then emptied his cup in one gulp, and shrugged.

“Well, try it if you wish.”

And he handed me the cup. I poured a little grappa into this truly bottomless object and drank it down with gusto. I don’t much like the taste of grappa, but since I was privileged to be using Lonli-Lokli’s cup I was prepared to brave even this.

“Thank you. What am I supposed to feel now?”

“You? I have no idea!” My friend seemed quite bewildered. “I almost thought that your strange, powerful wine would pour straight through it. You haven’t undergone the initiation into the Order. I had some doubts about you—completely silly, unfounded ones—so I let you try it. Tell me, Max, are you aware of your own powers?”

“I didn’t even know there might be a problem,” I replied. “I thought that it all depended on your magic cup.”

“The cup is the most ordinary kind. Just an old cup full of holes,” Lonli-Lokli said. “What matters is who drinks from it. You know Max, you’re a very strange creature.”

“I’ve always thought so, too. Especially recently,” I said. “Well, let’s go find your friend. I must say, I’ve never felt so superb, even after a good dose of Elixir of Kaxar.” I stood up and went to the door. At the threshold I turned around, as Lonli-Lokli hadn’t budged from his seat. “Do you need to do something else? Did I jump the gun?”

“Max,” Sir Shurf asked slowly, “Tell me. Do you always walk without touching the ground, or . . .”

“Only in Kettari. Why do you ask?” I looked under my feet suspiciously. Between the soles of my boots and the floor there really was a small space—almost too small to be seen. “Holy moley! I don’t have the strength to be surprised anymore. I don’t think it will affect the matter at hand, so let’s go before that silly fool of a moon starts scrambling up the sky. You know, I seem to have a strong urge to drink some blood. Is that a normal reaction after using your cup?”

“Absolutely,” Lonli-Lokli said, nodding his head. “But try to keep yourself in check, and try not to confuse your real strength with an illusory sense of power.”

“I’ll try. I must say, I’ve really never received so much opportune advice before.”

“It’s just that I know what your present condition feels like. Which means I also know that you can control your behavior if you want to.” This weighty compliment committed me to a great deal, whatever miracles might befall.

When we were outside, Lonli-Lokli cautiously took off his left glove, stopped for a few seconds, and then set off toward the bridge with a determined stride.

“Is he nearby?” I asked. My heels, which suddenly tore away from the earth, were buzzing like crazy.

“Not yet. We’ll have to walk for about half an hour. That will give us time to discuss a few details of what awaits us. I was going to ask you not to interfere in the fight, and suggest that you generally keep your distance from Kiba Attsax, but—”

“You changed your mind?” I asked. Shurf nodded earnestly.

“Yes, you taught me a good lesson. Underestimating your enemy is an unforgivable blunder. But underestimating your ally is even more dangerous. So go ahead and interfere, if need be.”

“That’s all well and good,” I said, somewhat confused. “But how do you kill dead Magicians? Until now, I knew of only one method—your famous left hand. An excellent thing. But as I understand it, it won’t shine for us?”

“No. If it were a matter of any other creature, perhaps. But my glove was at one time Kiba’s hand, so it won’t offer us any help. I can still do some other tricks, maybe they will be sufficient. Each person has his own best way of killing a Grand Magician, living or dead. You have a chance now to find out what your own best way is,” said Lonli-Lokli, and fell silent. I decided not to burden him with conversation.

Meanwhile, we continued along the streets of Kettari. I enjoyed this walk as I had enjoyed no other. Every step sent a pleasant tickling sensation through my entire body, starting as a pleasant itch in the soles of my feet.

“Why am I levitating, Shurf? Has anything like this ever happened to you?”

“Yes. After I drank dry all the aquariums of the Order I didn’t touch the earth for several years. It happens from a surcharge of strength and the inability to use it properly. That befell you after a surprisingly small dose, so your case might differ from mine. I must note that Kiba Attsax is now very close by. A bit closer, and I’ll have to take off my glove. It’s burning my hand.”

“Wow!” I said, and immediately shut up. What a thing to say at such a moment!

“Well, Max, I’m taking off the glove,” Shurf said quietly. “I have to give it to you now. Together with the protective one, of course. You have no part in the old dispute, so you can hold it without any problem.”

“Maybe I should just shrink it and hide it away? That’s my favorite trick. Would it be safe?”

“Yes, go ahead. Take it and follow me.” Shurf nodded at me, already somewhat aloof.

The dangerous glove obediently settled down between my thumb and the forefinger of my left hand. One thing I had certainly mastered was transporting bulky physical objects in this supremely practical way.

“Whatever you do, try to stay alive,” Lonli-Lokli said all of a sudden. “Death is a horrifying prospect if you’re dealing with Kiba. I know that for a fact.”

“I have a long lifeline,” I said, glancing stealthily at my right hand. “Do you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, save it for later, Max. He’s there in that house. Let’s go!”

The house Lonli-Lokli pointed to was a small, two-story structure with a signboard that read Old Refuge on the façade.

“A rooming house?” I asked in surprise. “A dormitory for dead Magicians, room and board for a modest fee?”

“I think it is some sort of hotel. Do you really consider that to be important?”

“No, it’s just funny. A dead man living in a hotel. Where does he get the money, I’d like to know? Or did he have an account in a local bank when he was still alive?”

“Well, he had to be somewhere,” Lonli-Lokli murmured glumly.

I threw open the heavy lacquered door for him with a determined gesture.

“After you.”

The ancient steps creaked under the weight of his tread.

“Here we are,” Lonli-Lokli observed calmly, stopping in front of a completely nondescript white door with the vestiges of a number 6 in faded gold—something only I would notice, with my habit of paying attention to random nonsense.

“Open it, Max. Don’t hold back.”

“Oh, I forgot—your hands are tied up, in a manner of speaking.”

I grinned, and opened the door. Somewhere in one of the numerous magazines I devoured long ago in a previous life, I read that they asked Napoleon what the secret of his victories was. “The main thing is to throw yourself into the fray. After that you can sort out the details,” he quipped. Or something to that effect. Quite a fellow, that Napoleon—though he met with a rather unfortunate end.

By the window, with his back turned to us, sat a completely bald, withered old man in a bright looxi. Suddenly, a ball of lightning, white as snow, flew out from under Lonli-Lokli’s looxi. It struck the bald man right between the shoulder blades, and he flared up with an unpleasant pale light, like an enormous streetlamp. The ball of lightning didn’t seem to hurt the stranger in the least, but he turned around.

“Greetings, Fishmonger,” said Sir Kiba Attsax, the former Grand Magician of the Order of the Icy Hand.

The most horrifying thing was that Kiba Attsax looked very much like Lonli-Lokli himself. I remembered that Juffin had said our Shurf had an unremarkable appearance—that people who look like him are a dime a dozen. Blockhead that I was, I hadn’t believed him!

The many years he had spent in a non-living state had not made him more attractive. The bluish, pock-marked, unnaturally gleaming skin was what really compromised his charm.

The whites of his eyes were dark, almost brown, and the eyes themselves were light blue—a lovely combination, it can’t be denied. I even felt a bit calmer when I got a good look at him. How could such a pathetic, dilapidated old creature possibly harm the fearsome Lonli-Lokli?

Oh, how wrong I was!

The dead Magician, it seemed, welcomed the opportunity for a chat. Completely ignoring another ball of lightning, which struck him in the chest this time, he went on with the performance.

“You succeeded very well in hiding from me, Fishmonger. You hid yourself very well indeed! But you weren’t smart enough to stay away from a place like this. Did it never occur to you that a newborn World is like a dream? Here your powers don’t work. You don’t believe me?”

I turned to Lonli-Lokli. I still thought that this dead man would put the fear of the Magicians in us, and then we would make short shrift of him, as the genre required. But the expression on Sir Shurf’s face—Sinning Magicians, what’s happening to him? I wondered, starting to panic. He was really afraid, and—it looked like he was falling asleep!

The jangling voice of Kiba Attsax jolted me back to reality. “I have no quarrel with you, boy. You may leave. Don’t interfere. We have old accounts to settle,” he said. The dead Magician waved the stump of his left arm in front of my nose. “He stole my left hand. How do you like that?”

A cold lump of panic shot into my throat. The situation completely knocked me off course. Until that moment I had been sure that I could calmly observe this World full of dangers safely behind the shoulders of the invulnerable Lonli-Lokli. But “even old ladies make mistakes,” as they say where I come from. And today we had mistakes galore—enough to share among widows, orphans, and other have-nots, if they wanted them, I thought with crazed glee.

And then I stopped thinking and went into action. It seemed I had been pinned against the wall. For a start, I spat at the dirty mug of the dead Magician. It wasn’t that I seriously believed this would help matters, but I couldn’t come up with anything more original. To my surprise, the spitting improved the general situation. Of course, it didn’t kill my opponent—he was already dead on his feet, so to speak. But I was lucky. It turned out that my spit left proper holes in corpses—just like the ones that adorned my rug at home. The dead Magician seemed very surprised. For the time being, anyway, he was distracted from his cryptic plans for giving Lonli-Lokli his comeuppance.

Behind my back I sensed Shurf coming to life again. He would still need a few moments to recover. I’d just have to buy a little time.

I charged forth, almost up to the alcove where the dead man was sitting. I decided that it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to spit right into the dark pupils of his eyes—eyes are so fragile and vulnerable. But I had never been a crack shot, and this time the poison landed on his forehead! Some sniper I’d made.

I laughed nervously, moved closer, and spat again. This time I did myself proud—where his right eye had been, there was now a gaping hole.

Kiba Attsax backed up toward the window in confusion.

“Are you dead?” he asked, with such intense scrutiny that it seemed nothing on earth was more important to him than a candid report on the state of my health. “In this place, the living can’t stand up to the dead in an argument, so you must be dead. Why are you on his side?”

“That’s my job—to be on his side,” I said.

And then I got just what I deserved. I felt Kiba Attsax’s right hand on my chest. Idiot! Why did I move so close to him? I berated myself.

Suddenly, I grew cold and calm, and I had no desire to fight with anyone anymore. I just needed to lie down and think a bit. It felt like the most primitive sort of narcosis. That infuriated me, so instead of shaking his hand off, I spat into the dead Magician’s face, already seriously disfigured by now.

“Shurf, hide him, quick!” I shouted. “Between your fingers, like I did with your glove. Hurry!”

I dropped to the floor to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally shrink me to keep the dead man company.

I just had to hope that Shurf was feeling well enough again to follow my advice, or to think of something better himself. I had run out of ideas.

Then, to my intense relief, I realized that Magician Kiba Attsax was no longer beside me. I turned around. Lonli-Lokli silently showed me his left hand. His thumb and his forefinger were pinched together in a peculiar fashion. It had worked!

We left that inhospitable room and went downstairs. I was shaking all over. Sir Shurf was silent, as before. I think he also needed time to come to his senses after his ordeal. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what this had been for him.

Outside there was a cold wind and a soft dusky twilight. We were alive, and we were walking away from the small two-story building. I turned around almost mechanically, and froze in my tracks.

“Look, Shurf! The house is gone!”

Lonli-Lokli turned around and glanced indifferently, then shrugged.

It’s gone all right, said the expression on his face. I realized it didn’t really make much difference to me, either. We kept going. Still, I couldn’t master my trembling. Even my teeth were chattering.

“Try some of my breathing exercises,” Shurf said suddenly. “They seem to have helped me.”

I tried. Ten minutes later, when we dropped into a tiny, deserted tavern, I could already hold a cocktail glass in my hand without spilling it or crushing it to pieces.

“Thanks,” I said. “They really do help.”

“What would they be for, if they didn’t help?” Lonli-Lokli asked stolidly.

“What are we going to do with him?” I said, trying to think practically. “Or do you want to keep him as a souvenir?”

“I doubt I’ll be needing it,” Lonli-Lokli replied. “In any case, I have to say your idea was praiseworthy. So simple, and at the same time it was something even I could do, although my chances of success were slim. You realize you saved much more than my life, Max?”

“Well, I think I can guess. I’m very impressionable. Your story about the dreams of the Mad Fishmonger are still ringing in my ears. Did this fellow do the same thing again? He managed to inform me that meeting him in Kettari wouldn’t be such a good idea, that here your chances would be no higher than in your dreams.”

“That’s how it is, indeed. You know, Max, we’ll have to kill him all the same. To kill him once and for all, I mean. Your mysterious friends, the ones who told you about Kiba Attsax—will they help us?”

“I really don’t know. We can ask, of course. Let’s have something else to drink, Shurf. Your breathing exercises work like a charm, but it’s better to take a comprehensive approach to restoring one’s health, don’t you think?”

“You’re probably right,” said Lonli-Lokli. “I guess I’d like to drink something myself.”

We silently drank some dark, almost black, biting wine. I felt astonishingly good: lightheaded and sad, and no thoughts at all—not one.

I wasn’t in the least worried about what we were going to do next. Deep down, I probably already knew, but—

Shurf gave me a quizzical look.

“Let’s go,” I said. And I stood up resolutely. At that very moment, it became absolutely clear to me where we were going, though I still don’t remember how I arrived at the decision. I felt I was being carried along and I couldn’t resist. I had no strength to do so.

Lonli-Lokli didn’t ask any questions. His trust in me seemed by this time to be unlimited. Maybe that was just as it was supposed to be.

We walked to the city gates. A few days earlier, Shurf hadn’t been able to leave the city, but for some reason I didn’t doubt for a second that now he could. If need be, I’d just say, “the guy’s with me,” and everything would be fine.

This wasn’t necessary, however. We left Kettari as easily as if we were passing beyond the city gates to admire the famous grove of Vaxari trees or other pastoral beauties. We walked down the road, and still my feet didn’t touch the ground. Or maybe they did, I didn’t know. I couldn’t think about that. An extraordinary sense of my own power filled me like warm water to the very top of my head. It seemed that during this outing I really could do anything I liked; but it never entered my head to take advantage of it. I just wanted Shurf to take a ride with me on my favorite cable car, and then—come what may!

“What’s this, Max?” Lonli-Lokli asked in surprise. In front of us was the boarding station for the cable car. In the distance we could see the delicate towers of my city in the mountains, and still further off was the white brick house with a restless parrot-weathervane. I looked at my companion happily.

“Don’t you recognize it? You were here not so long ago.”

“The city in your dreams?”

“The very one. And in your dreams, too . . . Let’s go for a ride.”

The little cabin of the cable car was meant for two, so we fit snugly. Sir Shurf stared, enchanted, now to the left, now to the right. His silence was not so much a sign of aloofness as it was the thrill of ecstasy. I felt as if I had just won the Nobel Prize or in any case, that my “outstanding contributions to mankind” were deemed worthy. The enthusiasms of Sir Lonli-Lokli were not dispensed lightly.

I laughed. It was as if I had been given a certificate that read: “The bearer of this document is immortal, and free to do whatever he wishes, now and forever more.”

“Now,” I said, when I had stopped laughing. “Throw your dead man into this abyss so that he doesn’t prevent us from enjoying the landscape. I think it’s is my favorite way of killing dead Magicians. I highly recommend it.”

A shadow of doubt flickered in Lonli-Lokli’s eyes, but he glanced again at the ghostly landscape that stretched out below us, then nodded and shook his left hand. Kiba Attsax plunged downward. He was-n’t the least surprised. Of course, he knew what I was capable of—the dead know everything. Somehow, I felt that Sir Kiba was not at all opposed to such a strange end to his long, tiring existence that confounded common sense. He disappeared; just disappeared, without reaching the earth. Which, to be honest, wasn’t underneath us, either.

I burst out laughing again, raised my eyes to the sky, and asked, gasping for breath in my merriment, “Did you like it, Maba? Surely you did!”

I liked it, I liked it! Are you happy now? The muffled Silent Speech of Sir Maba Kalox reached me so suddenly I shivered. Only stop this foolish habit of getting in touch with me aloud in public! Can’t you at least try?

I’ll try, I said, shamefaced, this time without opening my mouth.

“Excellent!” said Lonli-Lokli, looking glad and youthful.

Now, however, there was nothing unnatural in his good cheer. He was like the fellow who had walked with me here not long before, when the city in the mountains was still just one of my favorite dreams. Shurf didn’t seem to have paid any attention to my yelps into the emptiness.

“Were you sure?” he asked.

“Yes. Don’t ask me why. I have no idea! But I was absolutely sure that this was how it would be. Look, Shurf, we’re almost there. Yes, take your mitten. I think you can make friends with it again. I shook my left hand and gave Lonli-Lokli back his shining white sharp-nailed glove, which, Magicians be praised, now had only one owner.

The city was glad to see us. There was no doubt about it. The nearly empty streets, occasional friendly passersby, and a warm breeze carried the weak aromas of my favorite memories through the outdoor cafés. There was nothing special about it; but all the same, to me there was no better place in a single other World. Though I would never have considered staying here. I knew it was impossible.

We decided to moor at one of the outdoor cafes. Shurf didn’t like coffee, but he did like the frothy clouds of cream sailing on top of it. So we split our portions two ways, which was tasty, and rather funny. I remember that Lonli-Lokli punctured his spoon—he just looked through it at the sun, and the hole appeared of its own accord. He winked at me, and with this handy implement he scooped up the cloud of whipped cream floating on top of the cup. The tall, fantastically slender girl who was busying herself with our orders gave me a smacking kiss on the cheek. That was unexpected, but altogether pleasant. I just shook my head in wonder. We didn’t say anything to each other, as I recall. I think we just smiled every now and then; but I’m not at all sure.

After long hours of walking from one end of the city to the other, we finally came across the shady English park. My Lady Marilyn was roaming around there somewhere, if the wise Sir Mackie Ainti was to be believed. And who else was there to believe?

“Oh,” I sighed. “I forgot again! I wanted to find out the name of this city. I should have asked someone.”

“Nonsense, Max,” Lonli-Lokli said dismissively. “The important thing is that it exists, your city. What difference does the name make?”

“Come to think of it, none at all; but I’d still like to know, but, there’s no sense wondering about it now.”

And then we returned to Kettari, and I went to sleep. I think I was asleep even before I got home.

In the morning, everything was back to normal—maybe it was all too normal, but I didn’t object. My legs were planted firmly on the ground, and I wasn’t performing any supernatural wonders, except for fishing out a can of Coke from under the rocker. That was hardly a wonder!

It was finally possible to be bored again at breakfast. Lonli-Lokli seemed to be the same reserved and unflappable fellow I was used to, except that there was a trace of almost imperceptible lightness about him, as though all my life I had been acquainted with a slightly ill man who had suddenly recovered.

“I suppose we’ve done everything we had to do in Kettari?” Shurf asked, reaching for the kamra that we had ordered from the neighboring tavern. I was too lazy to drag myself anywhere early in the morning, even for breakfast.

These were his first words all morning. It seemed the fellow had really decided he’d had enough.

“We’ll see. I don’t think so, but we’ll see. I still have to meet someone. If you like, we can go together to get something to eat at . . . yes, why not? The fare at the Down Home Diner is very tasty!”

“Fine,” Lonli-Lokli said. “As you wish. But I plan to spiff myself up a bit, so don’t wait for me. Go to your meeting, and I’ll be along later.”

“Fine,” I echoed. “As you wish.”

Everything seemed to have fallen into place again. I smirked, and Shurf didn’t even notice. Life was settling down.

I didn’t delay my meeting with Sir Mackie Ainti. Suddenly I was very eager to get back to Echo. Actually, I was sure we could push on already with no regrets or doubts. But I was itching to have one last chat with Mackie. A goodbye chat.

The wooden door of the Down Home Diner opened with a quiet creak. I didn’t think it had creaked before when I opened it, but maybe I just hadn’t noticed?

“Howdy, partner,” Mackie smiled hospitably under his reddish mustache. “Did you enjoy your adventures?”

“Did you?” I asked, sitting down in the chair I already considered my own. Indeed, the chair was mine, and only mine. I would wager my life that no one had ever sat there but me. “Did you like my adventures?”

“Me? Very much so. I’m thinking maybe I won’t let you go back to Juffin at all. There’s plenty of work for you here. Hey, I’m kidding! What got you so scared, Max? Do I look like a kidnapper? You’ve got a very expressive face. But that’s an advantage, if anything. I get a heap of pleasure out of talking to you. And hiding one’s feelings—there’s no point in that. Might as well not have them at all, and be done with it. I guess you’ve got some questions?”

I shook my head.

“No. No questions. Your answers only make me feel unwell. Mackie, could I send you a call when I’m ready to ask?”

“I don’t know, Max. Try it. Why not? Everything works for you sooner or later. Somehow or other.” He winked at me and burst out laughing.

It was the first time I had heard Mackie Ainti laugh. Until then he had just smiled under his mustache. I didn’t like his laugh. I didn’t know why, but it sent chills up and down my spine.

“You laugh like that sometimes, too. And you also give innocent people a fright,” Sir Mackie remarked. “Don’t fret, it’s all for the best. Well, now, you’ve got a more important problem. You want to get home, and it would be awkward for you to wait for the caravan. Here, take this.” He handed me a little greenish stone, amazingly heavy for a thing of such trifling proportions.

“Is this a guide? A ‘Key to the Door between Worlds’? Like the kind all Kettarians have?”

“Better! A man who helped me create my World has the right to a few privileges, and I’m not joking. An ordinary key only works for Kettarians themselves. It won’t work for people from another world. Your key is for you alone. If you give it to any of your friends, I won’t vouch for the consequences. That clear?”

“Yes. You didn’t have to warn me. I’m very possessive.”

“Ah, that’s good. Don’t give it to Juffin, either. Above all, don’t give it to Juffin, all right? But he wouldn’t take it anyway. I keep forgetting that Juffin is already old and wise. You know, I really am glad that your friend’s problems were resolved so easily. He’s an extremely nice fellow. And highly entertaining. I’m very sorry that he can’t visit me. When are you leaving?”

“I don’t know. Soon, I expect. Tomorrow, or maybe even today. We’ll see. But why do you say that Shurf can’t visit you? I have to confess, I invited him here today. Was that a blunder?”

“No, not at all. It’s all right. He’s sitting in the next room, since . . . Well, you’ll understand soon.” Mackie stood up abruptly and made for the door. Then he turned around. “That stone, your ‘key.’ It only opens one Door between Worlds, Max. Though it works in both directions. Do you catch my drift?”

“You mean I can come back here?”

“Whenever you wish. Come back, and then leave again. I don’t think you’ll have any time for pleasure trips in the near future, but, who knows what you’ll do? Oh, and keep in mind that someone can pass through with you—but not just anyone, so don’t take any foolish risks. Make sure you think it through, first. And don’t even think of trying to get into the business of being a Caravan Leader. Don’t take the bread out of the mouths of my countrymen. Got it?”

I smiled and swiftly tapped my nose with the forefinger of my right hand twice. Sir Mackie smiled, too, under his reddish mustache, then left.

The door creaked loudly, then slammed shut, and I was alone. I hid the green stone in my pocket. How am I going to keep from losing it? I wondered. Would I have to have a ring made from it? I don’t like wearing hardware—but maybe it was the only way. I looked out the window. The multihued spray of the fountain was sparkling in the sun. The street was empty. Mackie had most likely already turned the corner, out of sight.

Right, as though he had had time! Stop fooling yourself, Max, I told myself wearily. I got up from the comfortable chair and went into the next room, where Lonli-Lokli was no doubt lolling about, bored as could be.

Shurf had, indeed, already settled down at a table by the window. He was studying the menu, so I stole up to him unnoticed.

“Where did you come from, Max? Have you already found your way to the kitchen?”

“Why would I want to visit the kitchen? I was just sitting in the room next door.”

“What room next door? Max, are you sure this tavern has more than one dining room?”

“I just came from there.” I turned back toward the door, of which not the slightest trace remained, of course. “Oh, Shurf, more local exotica! Kettarians are very eccentric folk, don’t you think? Let’s just eat, how about it? A hole in the heavens above this wondrous town, it seems I really am a fervent patriot. I can’t wait to get back to our Echo. And we can start our journey this very minute. Does that appeal to you?”

“Of course it does, Max. We can leave without the caravan, if I understand correctly?”

“Precisely. No caravan and no stops, since I’ll be sitting behind the levers of the amobiler. You don’t object to speed, do you Shurf? We’ll set a record and go down in history in one of the simpler and more reliable ways. Listen, you must buy some Kettarian carpets to take home with you. That’s why we came, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I was intending to. But are you going to be at the levers the whole way back?”

“You can’t even imagine how fast we’ll get home,” I said dreamily. “After you explained the principle of operation of the amobiler . . . You know, I think that until now I drove so slowly because deep down I was sure the old jalopy couldn’t move any faster.”

“Slowly?” Lonli-Lokli asked incredulously. “Well, I guess in that case we’ll be home in no time at all.”

When we had finished our meal and gone outside, I turned the corner and headed for the rainbow-hued fountain.

“I always went though that wooden door, Shurf,” I told him.

“Of course you did, Max. I don’t doubt it. But it’s not a real door. Just a stage prop.”

“As Sir Lookfi Pence likes to say, ‘People are so absent-minded!’” I sighed. “But what am I supposed to do, one might ask? Should I be surprised? No—I’m through with surprises for now.”

We spent the rest of the day like real tourists. Shurf did, if fact, set out to buy carpets, and I tagged along to keep him company. As it happened, I couldn’t resist the dark and silky nap of one enormous rug. It would match the fur of my cats perfectly. I was most likely the first customer who had ever bought a rug to go with his cats.

We loaded the rugs into the amobiler and went home to pack. Lonli-Lokli only needed about ten seconds to get ready, but I wasn’t ready until dark. When and how I had managed to spread my belongings through every room of this spacious house was a mystery to me. Finally, I came across the pile of junk that I had pulled out from under my magic pillow only yesterday. The box of candy was already nearly empty, but there were still some cookies, the collection of keys, four silver spoons, and the box of Cuban cigars. I thought a bit, then stuffed these riches in my traveling bag—you never know when they will come in handy.

When we were already outside, I was struck by an absurd notion, so our departure was delayed by another half hour. I needed to stop by the Country Home. This time I didn’t want to play cards, though.

When I had settled myself behind the levers of the amobiler, I happily lit up a cigarette, and the vehicle started to move. I drove fairly slowly to the city gates. But when we had passed the eleven Vaxari trees, I drove like a bat out of hell—a hundred miles an hour, at least. I couldn’t believe I had managed to get that kind of speed out of the absurd old jalopy. And that was just the beginning!

Shurf sat frozen in the back seat. I couldn’t turn around to see the expression on his face, but I could have sworn I heard him breathing rapturously. It was indescribably wonderful. We flew though the darkness along an unknown road. There were no gray cliffs, none of the bottomless precipices we had passed on our way into Kettari. The cable car on the edge of my nameless city, and the city itself, were nowhere to be seen, either—only the darkness and the cold minty air of Kettari. I didn’t even notice when the air lost its biting freshness.

“I just contacted Juffin,” Lonli-Lokli told me. I raised my eyebrows in surprise

“Good news, Shurf. Tell him . . . tell him your part of the story of what happened in Kettari. I can’t afford to get distracted when I’m driving this fast—and slowing down would be too much to ask. Tell Juffin that, all right?”

“Of course. I realize you don’t really like using Silent Speech. In any case, by my calculations we’ll be in Echo very soon—no later than tomorrow at noon, if you don’t get tired.”

“Well, what’s Elixir of Kaxar for? I know, I know, the driver isn’t supposed to indulge. But since I’m the big boss these days, I think I can.”

“Yes, Max. You can,” said Lonli-Lokli.

Then he was silent for a long time. He and Juffin clearly had a lot to talk about after their long separation. I didn’t envy them. If anyone was enjoying life now, it was me. Tomorrow I would talk my fill. Oh, poor Juffin! I’d talk his head off.

After about two hours, Lonli-Lokli touched my shoulder gently. I shuddered in surprise. The dizzying speed at which we were traveling had made me forget about everything else on earth, including my silent passenger.

“Sir Juffin and I have finished our conversation. Besides that, you know, I’m hungry. It would be nice to stop at a roadside diner.”

“Dig around in my bag there—you’ll find some cookies. They’re imported, but edible, I hope. And pass me some. I’ve also got the munchies.”

Lonli-Lokli rummaged around in my bag for a while, then produced a bag of cookies for me, and some for himself, which he munched with gusto.

“Are these from another World, too?”

“Most likely. Oh, Shurf! I have an excellent idea. Wait a minute.”

I stopped the amobiler and stuck my hand under the seat. I waited for a minute or two. Ah, there they were! Then I started to laugh.

“What happened, Max?”

“Nothing, it’s just that yesterday, when I was trying to get hold of some cigarettes, I kept finding all kinds of edibles. And now, when I’m trying to forage for our dinner—voilà!” I waved a long cardboard carton in front of his face triumphantly. “There are tens packs in here, Shurf! And they’re my favorite kind—555! I’m in luck!”

Greetings, Max, Mackie Ainti’s call reached me so suddenly I gasped, slumping down in the seat. It wasn’t the most pleasant feeling—like getting slammed by a dump truck. Not a real one, of course; but still, what a greeting! It was lucky that I hadn’t been driving just at that moment.

I’ve got to thank you, Mackie went on, sounding somewhat guilty. He probably imagined what I was experiencing just about then.

Maybe I’m too pragmatic, but I somehow thought you’d be glad. Farewell, partner. I’m a man of few words, as you can see.

Thank you. I tried to make my Silent Speech calm and intelligible. You can’t imagine—

I can. With that, Sir Mackie Ainti disappeared from my mind. I sighed a deep sigh of relief. He was a complicated man. Simply unbearable, for all the tenderness I felt for him.

“Is that a present?” Lonli-Lokli asked. “I think you deserved it, Max. You left the most precious part of yourself in that World.”

“Did you hear our conversation?”

“In a way. You know, now that I don’t have to waste so much energy fending off Kiba, I can use it for other purposes. Of course, it takes time, but some simple things just happen of their own accord. And you know, it’s not hard at all to keep track of what’s happening to you. In that sense, you’re much more vulnerable than other people. You have an expressive face.”

“I am what I am,” I said. “I’ll try again. Maybe we’ll still be able to get some dinner.”

A half hour later, after stockpiling several bottles of mineral water and a fistful of tokens for gambling machines, Shurf and I found ourselves the proud owners of a huge cherry pie. After eating a large portion, I started up the amobiler and set off down the road again. The vehicle ate up the miles hungrily. Never had I been such a speed-demon behind the levers as I was on that drive!

“Listen, Shurf,” I began. “Did you by any chance ask Juffin what happened the night we tried to get in touch with him? I mean the night we had such a strange conversation with Lookfi, since we couldn’t reach anyone else. Why did Lookfi break the connection?”

“I didn’t have to ask. Sir Juffin brought it up himself. He thought that you would be eager to find out. You guessed right when you suggested that it was another World. And Sir Lookfi Pence is such a scatterbrain that he didn’t even notice my call had come to him from a place where it shouldn’t be able to reach him. In this case, his absent-mindedness served a good purpose. Then something happened that you might find amusing. Sir Juffin immediately realized where we had ended up, and wanted to explain it all to you through Lookfi. Lookfi listened calmly to Juffin’s conjectures about another World, and began relating it to you. Only then did he grasp the significance of his own words. He realized that the impossible was happening and that’s when it ended. Why aren’t you laughing, Max?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m probably just trying to understand, I don’t know, something, at least! But you’re right. Usually things like that seem funny to me. You changed very much in Kettari, Shurf. Do you know that?”

“That’s logical, since . . .” Lonli-Lokli sank into thought.

“Well, of course. First Glamma Eralga’s face, then a wife like Lady Marilyn, may she rest in peace, a journey to another World, a joint, and Kiba Attsax for dessert. You poor fellow, Sir Shurf. What a jerk I am, always moaning about my own problems!”

“Well said!” I detected something strange in his voice, so I turned around. Shurf was smiling, ever so slightly. The corners of his mouth were turned up, Magician’s honor!

“Not so fast, buddy,” I winked. “There’s still another dead Magician. What’s his name, by the way?”

“Yook Yoggari. But he’s far less dangerous. I don’t regret these changes, Max. I don’t intend to deny who I am. As I’ve already said, it doesn’t prevent me from concentrating on the really important things. It doesn’t get in the way of anything, and that’s what matters.”

“All the same, if this dead fellow starts bothering you, you can count on me,” I announced airily. “I’ll come to him in his dreams, and make him sing for his supper!”

“Magicians be with you, Max. Dead people don’t dream.”

“Really? All the better. That means I’m alive, because your little friend suggested that I also . . . well, died . . . in my time, way back when.”

“Dead Magicians seldom say anything sensible,” Shurf said. “As far as I know, they always dwell in a darkened state of mind.”

“Now that makes me prick up my ears,” I said grinning. “It’s a painfully familiar state.”

I sped up so that talking wouldn’t be necessary.

We drove into Echo at dawn. Even Shurf’s boldest predictions turned out to be too modest. Noon, had he said? When we arrived in Echo, a fat, pleasant-looking sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, trying to figure out what people had managed to do in the short time it had been away. I waved at the puffy-cheeked luminary and turned into the Lane of Northern Paths. Oh, what a beautiful name! I had never heard it before. I had to slow down considerably, but there was nowhere to hurry to, and Echo in the morning seemed to me to be the most beautiful place in the World. In this World, in any case. In other Worlds there were a few rivals. But now Echo was the best place in the universe, because I was coming home, and my heart loved what it saw, without regretting what it had lost.

“You’re going to take a wrong turn,” Lonli-Lokli warned. “What’s wrong? Don’t you know this part of town?”

I shook my head, and Shurf took the task of navigation upon himself. After a good earful of his instructions, I noticed with surprise that we were already on the Street of Copper Pots, approaching the House by the Bridge.

“Are we here?” I was even short of breath from anticipation.

“We’re here. I’d like to go home, but I guess my wife will still be asleep. At this hour she won’t even be glad to see me, all the more since I don’t look like myself these days. You know, she didn’t care at all for Sir Glamma Eralga.”

“It would be convenient if Sir Kofa happened to be on duty. He could reverse the spell right away.”

I parked the amobiler by the Secret Entrance to the Ministry of Perfect Public Order, and was suddenly stupefied. The vehicle began to disintegrate. Lonli-Lokli’s reaction was lightning quick. His arms shot upward, then dropped slightly to his sides, and tiny strands of metal and wood remained poised in midair.

“Get out of here, Max!” he roared.

He didn’t have to ask twice. I flew out of the amobiler like a bullet. How I managed to grab the carton of cigarettes remains a mystery to me to this day!

I turned around when I was already in the hall. Shurf was pensively removing our traveling bags from under the debris of the amobiler.

“Give me a hand. What are you looking at?” He smiled as naturally as if he had been doing it for the last hundred years.

“You really are a fantastic racer, Max, if I do say so myself. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life!”

“If there’s anything this guy can do, it’s travel far and travel fast,” a familiar voice sounded from behind me.

I turned around and stared at Sir Juffin Hully in delight.

“You wouldn’t believe me, Juffin, if I told you how long I’d been waiting for this meeting,” I said in the ingratiating voice of Sir Mackie Ainti, and burst out laughing at the unexpectedness of it.

“Stop it, Mackie!” Juffin exclaimed merrily. “I can’t listen to that. Now try to greet me again, Max.”

“Juffin, what’s going on?” I said in my own voice, and laughed, my head a-spin.

“That’s better. Good morning Shurf. This fellow totaled the amobiler, just as I predicted. And it was an official Ministry car, if I’m not mistaken.”

“He’s a superb racer,” Shurf insisted, dragging his valuable carpet out of the rubble. “Max, perhaps you’ll help me with this?”

I grabbed the bags nimbly, leaving my friend to deal with the carpets, and Juffin and I went into the office to drink some kamra and shoot the breeze. The prospect was so tempting it made my mouth water.

I got carried away, and talked without a break for four hours.

During that time, Juffin had managed to return Shurf’s own natural-born face to him by some surreptitious gesture. (“It’s easier to destroy than to create, boys. Why should we wait for Sir Kofa?”) I was even slightly shocked at first. I had completely forgotten what Shurf looked like.

“So that’s that story,” Lonli-Lokli drawled thoughtfully when I finally shut up.

My ears were ringing, whether from exhaustion, or from listening to myself talk. Shurf, in the meantime, had gotten up from the table.

“I’m going home, if you don’t have any objections, gentlemen.”

“Of course, go on home,” Juffin said, nodding. “You could have left long ago. I understand, though. You had a right to hear out the whole story. It’s your story, too. I’m very glad Sir Shurf. About the adventure with Kiba Attsax, I mean. You think you may owe Max another serenade now.”

Sometimes Juffin’s sarcasm went overboard, and this time Shurf and I glanced at each other. I smiled ear to ear, and he with the corners of his mouth, a hole in the heavens above him!

Juffin gazed on this rare spectacle with pleasure, smiling from ear to ear as well. Such an idyll reigned in the office of the Secret Investigative Force that all the rosy tints in the universe would not suffice to describe it.

Then only Juffin and I were left.

“And where’s Melifaro’s curious nose?” I asked. “Where is everybody else?”

“I ordered them not to disturb us. There will be plenty of time later for hugs and kisses of joy. I don’t want anyone else to overhear your report about the events in Kettari. It’s top secret, Max. I hope you understand that. All my life I’ve expected something like this from Mackie, but never anything on this scale. I can’t even claim that I understand it all now, but that’s not unusual. Mackie is the kind of fellow who isn’t capable of clarity. Show me all the maps of Kettari again, Max.”

“Shall I give them to you, Juffin? I know you aren’t sentimental, but in the interests of the case . . .”

“No. Keep them. You may need them. It looks like Mackie is counting on several more visits. By the way, did it ever occur to you that you needed to be very careful? It’s the most dangerous kind of scrape of all, the one you got mixed up in. Though it’s also the most useful.”

“I liked it,” I exclaimed dreamily. “What do you mean, Juffin? Dangerous how?”

“Because you learn too quickly. And you display your powers so ingenuously. Mackie is very crafty, but he can’t always come to your aid when you need him. He loves confronting a person with his fate, and then—just leaving him to it. You know, in every world there are hunters who are looking for people like you. Compared to some of them, the late Kiba Attsax is like a sweet dream. Speaking of dreams, Max. I hope you haven’t lost the personal kerchief of the Grand Magician of the Order of the Secret Grass? I strongly recommend that you not go to sleep without it, no matter what. Never. Understood?”

“Yes,” I nodded uncertainly. “But what—”

“I don’t know,” Juffin said sharply. “Maybe nothing at all will happen, you’re a lucky one. But I want to be certain that no matter what you dream you’ll be able to wake up. That’s all. Now we can move on to more pleasant things. Praising you, for instance. You truly exceeded not only your own, but also my expectations.”

“I guess so,” I said with a shrug. “But it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to me. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“You must be. You need a good rest—reporting to work every evening, and so forth. Our notions of what constitutes rest are the same, are they not?”

“They are,” I said. “We’ll start today. I’ll just go home for a few hours sleep. Or maybe I won’t sleep at all.”

“Better take a few slugs of your Elixir and stay here till evening. Tonight you’ll stay over at my house. I want to figure out once and for all what exactly happened to you in Kettari. So you’ll slumber, and I’ll satisfy my curiosity.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “Sleeping at your house like I used to, just after I arrived in Echo. Yes, it’s just like then! I’ve popped in, fresh from another World. It’s a good excuse for me to visit Chuff.”

“He’ll lick you from head to toe,” Juffin said. “I wish I had your worries, boy! Fine, let’s quit gabbing for a bit. You should eat something, and I want to take a minute to try puzzling out these blasted maps.”

He puzzled not for a minute, but for a good half-hour.

“Now it’s clear to me why Mackie won’t let me into Kettari,” my boss said at last, grinning.

“But Mackie said—”

“Never mind what he said. It seems the old man still thinks I don’t catch on too quickly. He’s the one who won’t let me in, who else? You see, Max, I remember too well what Kettari was really like. And when authentic and reliable memories of sorcerers like Mackie and myself collide, and even contradict each other—well, any World at all, not just a newborn one, runs the risk of flying to pieces.”

“So I was led by the nose,” I sighed. “And it was Mackie who wouldn’t let Shurf follow me, and not some unknown force.”

“And a good thing it was he didn’t let him. You were very busy just then. You were creating a new World, as I understand. It’s very natural, Max. You were led by the nose a bit, but the true purpose was to lead me astray. So don’t fret about it. Mackie doesn’t always know himself what is true and what isn’t, believe me. He’s come up with more than a dozen versions of Kettari! It’s too bad you couldn’t collect all the existing maps of my dear old town.”

“Well, what can I say? Juffin, are you in the mood to tell me a little about Sir Mackie Ainti? I just can’t figure out what kind of creature he is. He told me he’s been alive since time immemorial, and that he rolled into the World from who-knows-where, and somehow I believe him implicitly. Last night he sent me a call, very friendly, thanking me one last time. I hardly survived that short exchange with him! And what happened after I met him for the first time—I’ve already told you about that.”

“Believe it or not, I can’t help you there, Max,” Juffin smiled. “I spent more than twelve dozen years by his side, but I could never get to the bottom of him. It’s most likely my fate, to live in proximity to strange creatures like you and Mackie all the time. You may laugh when I say this, but you and he are like two peas in a pod. But you’re young and foolish, while he, in a sense, is perfection. That’s the way I remember him. There wasn’t a single human weakness in him. To this day, I’m still not sure he ever goes to the bathroom! I swear by the World I never caught him at it!” Juffin said with a hearty laugh. “But I’m sure you’ll be better at talking to him in his own language than I was in my time. You and he already see eye to eye. Oh, you’re a lucky fellow!”

“Yes, lucky! Only you advise me not to go to sleep without your protective rag, since all the Monsters of the Universe are out hunting. All the same, everything’s just hunky-dory!”

“Well, what is it you really want, Max?” the boss asked, knitting his brow. “A tranquil life? A little house with a garden, where you can wait patiently for old age in the company of your dear wife and a horde of grandkids? A royal pension for ‘outstanding service’? I can tell you right now that’s not going to happen. Never. All the other joys of life are there for the taking, though. Including the Monsters of the Universe, as you call them.”

“That’s fine with me. Better monsters than hordes of grandkids! You’re good at scaring people, Juffin—I’ll grant you that.”

And I was sent on my way.

There was a free-for-all of everyone else who wished to smother me in hugs, starting with Melifaro, who was the first to tackle me (he had been waiting in line, it seemed, since the evening before), and ending with the shy Sir Lookfi Pence and Sir Kofa Yox, who was too heavy for such strenuous exercises. Even Melamori dispensed with the demure restraint that had characterized our not-very-businesslike dealings lately. It appeared that she wanted us to be friends again. That was no small thing, since friendship was the only thing on the horizon for us. But I had already learned to live with this prospect. And she had, too. In any case, it didn’t hurt me anymore. I was glad to see Melamori and all the others. And they were glad to see me with my own face again. I was loved! Darn, it’s worth a lot if in some World or other there’s a place where you’re loved by at least five people. And then there was Lonli-Lokli, who was already at home asleep, and the mighty Lady Sotofa, who was so genuinely pleased with my rare visits. And a few more good fellows who also seemed to have a soft spot in their hearts for me.

“Hey gang, you know what?” I shouted when we had started in on the next jug of kamra from the Glutton Bunba (we had polished off so many I had lost count.) “I’m happy.”

Why in the World were they roaring with laughter? They couldn’t possibly have seen the Droopy Dog cartoons.

In the evening, I felt even happier, since I got to spend time with Chuff. He really did lick me from head to toe, but I didn’t mind. Then my eyelids started growing heavy. Had they cast a spell on me? But who needs a spell when a person hasn’t slept for two days or overindulged in Elixir of Kaxar?

In the middle of the night I woke up, unable to remember where I was. Looking around, I realized I was in my own bed at Sir Juffin’s, and that he was sitting over by the wall. His eyes seemed to glitter in the dark—but whose eyes don’t play tricks on them when they’re fresh from sleep? Anyway, the sight of him sent shivers down my spine.

“Sleep, Max. Don’t bother me,” my boss said drily. And I dropped off to sleep like a good boy.

In the morning Juffin looked tired, but satisfied.

“Go home, Max. I think I’ll sleep a bit. Come to the Ministry after lunch, or even later. It doesn’t matter when, just show up. And don’t forget about the kerchief if you feel like taking a nap. You’re just going to have to get used to it.”

“Well, if you say so. What did you find out about me?”

“Loads of things that wouldn’t interest you. Now scram, you monster! Let this old geezer get some rest.”

At home I was set upon with loud meows by Ella, who was even stouter than when I had left. Armstrong, in his turn, demonstrated brilliant logic: he stared at me pensively, then lazily walked over to his bowl. Well, it made perfect sense.

“Did you miss me?” I asked cheerily. “You don’t have to put on an act. I know you didn’t. I just cramp your style! I come in here making all kinds of noise; but that’s all right, I’ll feed you now.”

After feeding my beasties, I began unpacking my bags. It’s hard to imagine anyone returning from a trip to another World with such useless stuff! The clothes and knick-knacks of Lady Marilyn; the flotsam and jetsam I had accidentally pulled out of the Chink between Worlds, including the box of Cuban cigars. I’ll have to take it to the Ministry, I thought. Some aficionado will surely step forward to claim them. The eleven maps of Kettari I would gladly have hung in the living room, but Sir Juffin had warned me that these souvenirs should be safely hidden from prying eyes. So I would have to hide them more carefully.

Finally, I pulled out a small, crumpled parcel. Sinning Magicians, I forgot! My one and only surprise for Sir Juffin, Dish Number 13 from the evening menu of the Country Home—that Kettarian delicacy, that reeking bacon grease, that acme of unfathomable vileness, a “remedy for nostalgia,” etc. Never mind, I’d give him his treat later in the day. Better late than never.

I left for work just after noon. The black and gold Mantle of Death seemed to me like the best of all possible garments. I must really have been homesick.

Sir Juffin wasn’t there yet. But in the Hall of Common Labor, Lonli-Lokli was already sitting in state, dressed all in white, his hands in the embellished protective gloves clasped over his chest.

This vision completely satisfied my esthetic expectations, and I broke into a smile.

“Shall we run down to the Glutton and back, Shurf? Or shall we pretend that you’re too busy?”

“Too busy I’m not,” he replied. “The Glutton Bunba is a place I missed even when we were in the Country Home.”

“Even in the back room of the Country Home, where stern, gray-haired men threw themselves into games for small stakes, to kill time? I don’t believe it!”

“You’re right, Max. Let’s go, before I change my mind. Sir Melifaro, I’m leaving.”

“Has something already happened in the dark alleys of our capital, gentlemen killers?” Melifaro’s quizzical face poked out of the doors of his office. “Whose blood are you planning to drink? Really—has something happened?”

“No,” Lonli-Lokli said. “We just think that your backside alone will be more than enough to wipe the dust off the chairs of our side of the Ministry. And Max and I will be doing just about the same thing, but in another place. I deeply regret that your working schedule won’t allow you to accompany us to the Glutton at this time of day.” He turned to me. “Let’s hurry, Max, before something does happen. You’re too lucky in attracting adventures.”

Melifaro’s mouth fell open. The airy monologue of the deadpan Lonli-Lokli, the last bastion of seriousness in our small, zany organization, was too much for him.

“Where’s our good old Lomki-Lonki? What did you do to him at that resort town, Max? Cast a spell on him? Admit it, you beast you!”

“There’s nothing to admit. I just gave him a piece of my mind a few times and swore at him like it was going out of style. Right, Shurf?” I winked at Lonli-Lokli. “I’ll have to try the same thing on this fellow here. Who knows what kinds of transformations—”

“Yes, Max, that was some first-rate cussing you did there,” Shurf said with an air of nostalgia. “As for Melifaro, I think you might want to give it a try in his presence. Maybe after that he’ll finally learn my name. You must do it soon. In the interests of civic peace and social tranquility.”

And we left proudly, the two most fearsome people in the Unified Kingdom, I in the Mantle of Death, and Shurf in the Garments of Truth—a veritable double-edged sword.

An hour later we returned, and Melifaro forced us to go over the whole thing again.

“Come on, what did you do to Loki-Lonki, Mr. Bad Dream?”

Poor Melifaro, the best investigator in all this World, kept on trying to get to the bottom of this unyielding mystery. I even started feeling sorry for him. It had been so long since I had had my own secrets, though. These days I was always trying to uncover the secrets of other people.

“I’ve told you the honest truth, friend. Shurf tried to wake me up, and I let him have it. Then I just about died with shame. But everything blew over, as you can see. Maybe my cursing worked like a spell.”

“What exactly did you tell him?” Melifaro prodded incredulously.

“I don’t remember. Ask him yourself. He took notes on my performance, and then demanded that I translate the meaning of some very colorful and exotic words.”

“He took notes? Well, Max, you’ve put my mind at ease. It’s not all that bad. Only good old Shurf is capable of writing down all the filth people say to him in good conscience. To broaden his horizons. Yes, that means everything is fine.”

Juffin was already waiting for me in the office by the time I returned to the House by the Bridge.

“Ta-da!” I exclaimed from the doorway. “I completely forgot! You asked me to bring you a souvenir from your homeland.” I drew the crumpled parcel from the pocket of the Mantle of Death. “I decided to give you the thing that moved me more than all the other Kettarian wonders. Don’t be offended.”

“Offended? Why should I get offended, Max?” I noticed with astonishment that Juffin was sniffing the package and inhaling its unbearable stench with downright pleasure. “Oh, I understand. You know nothing about real delicacies, son!” Sir Juffin carefully unwrapped the parcel and bit off a piece in delight. “You wanted to laugh at the old man, didn’t you? You can’t imagine how happy you’ve made me!”

Deep down, I’m not such a scoundrel as I seem. I wasn’t terribly disappointed. If Sir Juffin considers that to be a rare delicacy—well, so much the better.

“Excellent,” I said, and smiled. “The greater are my chances of escaping alive from the clutches of the famous Kettarian Hunter.”

“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t indulge in false modesty, nor would I get my hopes up. Didn’t Mackie tell you that hope is a foolish sentiment?”

“So you were there with me, Juffin? I knew it, I just knew it!”

“Don’t be silly, Max. I was right here in Echo, and I was engaged in much more important matters than—” He trailed off, but his smile was cunning.

“The next time you’re on hand to observe my sensational adventures, if it’s not too much trouble, will you please applaud my modest victories? I’d appreciate it.”

And with enormous pleasure I demonstrated the famous Kettarian gesture, two gentle taps on the nose with the forefinger of the right had. Practice had made perfect—I did it almost automatically.

“Oh, Max!” Juffin said. “Sometimes you’re really touching, do you know that? Fine. You’ll be having a mug of kamra with Melamori soon. Sir Kofa will grab you tonight, there’s no room for doubt there. And Lookfi won’t fail to visit you at sundown, as soon as he puts the buriwoks to bed for the night, and before you leave for home. How do you like that for a busy schedule? You won’t collapse in exhaustion?”

“I just might. And you, Juffin? Have you had enough for today?”

“Absolutely. I’m on my way home. Do as you wish, but I’m tired after the past few days. I’ll just stop by Xolomi—one of the old-timers there took a notion to escape, can you imagine? Now the boys are trying to scrape his remains from the walls of his cell, and I’m required to be present, since someone there thinks it’s a serious case. A ‘serious case’!” Juffin said comically, and stood up. I plunked myself down in the chair he had just vacated.

Thereafter, everything happened strictly according to the schedule Sir Juffin Hully had devised. I even shared some kamra with Lady Melamori, as he had predicted—something I really hadn’t counted on. But we chattered away like old friends, I won’t deny it.

Things were falling into place in my life. I didn’t dare count on more. For the time being, it was enough.

It took me three days to realize that none of my colleagues liked cigars. Only Lady Melamori was daring enough to try one, but it was pure bravado. Her face didn’t show a trace of pleasure, just undiluted determination. I stuffed the box in the desk drawer. I had one vague hope left—that General Boboota would recover.

He had to be good for something, that big meanie! He’d look great with a cigar stuck in his mouth. And these were the biggest worries I had, Magicians be praised!

“You’re still not missing a dose of daily marvels?” Sir Juffin asked innocently on about the fourth day after my return.

“Not at all,” I said. “Has something happened?”

“Well, the marvels have been missing you,” Juffin said, with a grin. “I was just wondering whether you’d want to keep me company. I’m thinking of visiting Maba.”

“What a question! Of course I do!”

This time Maba Kalox met us in the hall.

“I think today we might sit in another room,” he remarked casually. “You have no objection to a little variety, do you?”

Wandering rather aimlessly through the corridors (I got the impression that Sir Maba himself wasn’t entirely sure which door led to this ‘other room’), we finally settled ourselves in a small chamber that resembled a bedroom more than a living room, though I didn’t see a bed.

“Mackie’s spoiling you, Max,” our cordial host said, pulling out a tray with some strange dishes from under the small table. “He’s sent you enough of those smoking sticks to last you the rest of your life. You’ve probably even stopped practicing.”

“No, not at all,” I said. “It’s such a good way to economize on food. No need to spend money shopping—I just stick my hand somewhere, and presto! You’re not the only one who loves money. Do you know how greedy I am?”

“I suspected you were,” Sir Maba said. “Is this true, Juffin?”

“And how! You know what he sometimes eats? Some strange little sausage hidden inside a big bun. It’s disgusting. And he enjoys it!”

“I’ve adored hot dogs my whole life.” I was already tired of this subject. “The consequences of a deprived childhood, and all that. And look who’s talking! That Kettarian ‘delicacy’ of yours . . .”

“I’ve got your numbers, boys,” Maba said. “You’re so much alike sometimes, it’s just unbelievable. You know, Max, Juffin thinks that you’ve seen through his little trick, so . . . Well, so now you might be a bit angry with us.”

“No way!” I exclaimed. “I’m already used to people making a fool of me, so don’t worry!”

Sir Maba stood up and went over to the window.

“We’re not worried. Come over here and take a look.”

I went over to the window and froze. It didn’t look out onto the garden at all, but onto a very familiar street. Dumbfounded, I stared at the yellow paving stones, then raised my eyes. A small fountain played merrily, sending its multihued spray into the sky.

“High Street?” I asked hoarsely. “Is it Kettari?”

“Well, at least it’s not the border of the County Vook,” Juffin replied cheerfully behind me.

“Only, don’t tell your friend Old Mackie about this window. Agreed?”

Sir Maba Kalox winked at me.

“He doesn’t have to worry. Fierce old Juffin isn’t planning to climb through it.” And Sir Maba lightly tapped his nose with the forefinger of his right hand.

Two good people can always come to an understanding. There’s no denying it.