TWO

DOROTH, MASTER OF THE MANOOKS

“I HOPE IT DOES NOT SHOCK YOU THAT I DID NOT INVITE YOU INSIDE,” said Lonli-Lokli. “This evening does not dispose one to shutting oneself up in a living room.”

I smiled from ear to ear. We had just made ourselves comfortable on a few of the thick branches of a spreading Vaxari tree growing in the nether reaches of his garden.

“What really shocks me is not that you told me to go climb a tree—that’s pretty routine. I could never have imagined, though, that you’d manage to crawl up here yourself.”

“Did you really think I didn’t know how to climb a tree?” he said, surprised. “Strange. It does not take much brainpower.”

“I’m sure you can climb anything. It just never occurred to me that you’d do it voluntarily,” I said. “Such a lighthearted pastime doesn’t really jibe with your image.”

“What image might that be?” Shurf said. “And whence the peculiar words?”

I laughed. “The peculiar words are knocking about in the depths of my powerful intellect. And all I meant was that climbing trees isn’t really your style.”

“In good weather I spend as much time in this tree as I do in my study. Especially if I want to read in peace. I do not invite just anyone here. You’re the first. Proximity to trees gives you a tranquility unlike any other. And that is just what you are lacking. Trees can teach us a great deal: peace of mind, for instance.”

“Neat,” I said. “Too bad I don’t have my own garden, what with all my homes. And if I tried to find peace of mind by climbing a tree outside the House by the Bridge, people might get the wrong idea about me.”

“They might, indeed,” Shurf said. “But even if you had a garden, what good would it do you? You never have any time for anything. You seem to just devour it whole.”

This was true. Since the Great Hunt for the Lonely Shadows, nothing extraordinary had happened in my life. Sir Korva Blimm hadn’t even given me grief for assisting his only daughter in her escape to Arvarox. Yet my days slipped through my fingers like sand through a sieve. Several days before, Tekki had mentioned in passing that summer would soon be over, and I was floored. Summer? Over? But it had hardly gotten underway!

“Do you remember my friend Anday Pu?” I said.

“Certainly. It would be strange if I had forgotten such a great poet so soon. Incidentally, I lost track of him long ago. Perhaps you know how he is faring these days?”

“He’s in Tasher. He publishes a picture-newspaper and earns heaps of money. In short, he’s enjoying life to the hilt in the wondrous land of his youthful dreams. And he sends me calls on a regular basis to complain about how tired he is of the ‘Tasherian plebs,’ who, he is convinced, ‘just don’t catch.’ He had to go all the way to the edge of the World just to pick up his old saw in a completely new place. But the reason I recalled him just now was that the poor guy was always broke as a joke, even after I landed him a job at the Royal Voice, and was in the habit of bemoaning the nasty habits of those ‘little round things’ that kept running away from him. I have the same problem with time. It keeps running away from me, and I’m powerless to do anything about it.”

I started feeling like a hopeless slob, and my spirits plummeted accordingly. I don’t know how it happened.

“In any case, there is no reason to be so out of sorts,” Shurf said. “There are two roads ahead of you. Either you change your life, or you allow it to continue as it is. I seem to have been mistaken in thinking my tree could bring you any peace and tranquility. It is more likely that you will teach it to fret over trifles.”

“I hope not. It might decide to uproot itself and start running around town, trying to get its thoughts in order. And then we’d be chasing after it.”

“I do not think it will come to that,” Lonli-Lokli said. “I have a question for you, Max. All those books from your World that you so kindly acquire for me from time to time—I must admit, the selection is quite baffling. Tell me, they all represent the same genre, do they not?”

“Yes. I would even say . . .”

I broke off, unable to pin down a fleeting thought. I had to think about it. Over the past half a year I had pulled out several dozen books from the Chink between Worlds. All of them fit more or less my definition of science fiction. Still, I hadn’t found a single familiar title among them; even the authors were unknown to me. Pretty strange, if you consider that back in the day I had been up to my ears in the genre, to put it mildly.

“What are you thinking about?” Shurf said.

“About those sinning books. There’s something wrong there. You know, recently I’ve managed to be pretty adroit at fetching things I really wanted. If I needed cigarettes, I got cigarettes—even my preferred brand. Consistently, without any bloopers. Not a single silly umbrella.”

“Yes, you are learning that art surprisingly quickly.”

“Perhaps,” I said, sighing. “But as soon as I reach for a book . . . I’ve tried to fetch some specific titles for you. Some were things I think are funny. Others I was sure would completely turn around your notions of my homeland. But it doesn’t work. I keep getting books written by unfamiliar authors. It’s almost like I’m taking them off the same bookshelf in some inconceivable library.”

“I see. Well, the reason I brought it up is that I wanted to ask you whether there is some principle that guides you when you choose these books for me and, if so, which one. But now I understand that you have no control over it. You know, I very much like your idea about an ‘inconceivable library.’ There is a legend about the library of King Mynin. Have you heard it?”

“No. What kind of library is it? Was it assembled by this very same legendary king?”

“No, he did not found it. He found it somewhere on the Dark Side. The legend goes that it contains books that were never written.”

“Huh?”

“Well, consider this. Have you ever thought to yourself, I could write a good book, if only . . . ? You can insert any excuse there: ‘if I had time,’ ‘if I knew how to write books,’ ‘if so-and-so had not already written something similar,’ ‘if I really wanted to,’ and so on.”

“If only you knew how often I’ve entertained that idea,” I said, smiling. “But hey, I guess this means that you’ve thought about it, too, on more than one occasion. Imagine that!”

“Let us just assume that I can imagine in theory what it would be like,” Shurf said. “In any case, the library that King Mynin found was a collection of books whose authors had never written a line. The legend goes that King Mynin realized this when he found his own book there—or, rather, the book he had wanted to write when he was a prince studying at the Royal Elevated School. He never wrote it, of course. Then he found books there written by his own childhood friends who had never become writers. He even discovered several familiar plots. He recognized them because they had been a topic of discussion among his friends many a time.”

I was flabbergasted. “But if that’s the case, the library must be almost infinite!”

“That is what the legend says. It describes the library as infinite and claims that it constantly changes location,” said Shurf.

“Are you saying I managed to find a way to stick my hand in there?” I said in disbelief. “That’s just too weird.”

“But why? It is right up your alleyway. It ‘jibes with your image.’ There. Is that how you say it?”

“Right on,” I said, laughing in delight.

“I certainly did not bring up King Mynin’s library so you would lose your last shred of sanity over it. I simply thought it might be interesting to corroborate the rumors, if the opportunity presents itself.”

“Well, if it presents itself . . .” I said uncertainly.

Maybe it was true that Lonli-Lokli hadn’t brought it up so I would lose my last shred of sanity. Nevertheless, that’s exactly what happened. I kept thinking about the legend of King Mynin’s library all the way to the House by the Bridge. Surprisingly, I managed to avoid crashing into one of the numerous streetlamps. Must have been just my luck.

What oppressed me the most was the thought that one of the shelves might contain the pathetic fruits of the myriad stupidities that had once knocked around my good-for-nothing noggin. And to think that they all had my real name on them, and not some innocuous pseudonym. My only hope was that King Mynin—who had disappeared a couple thousand years before, never to be seen again, and with this extravagant flourish had put an end to his long and tempestuous reign—was the only visitor to this mysterious bookmobile.

“Have you read today’s Royal Voice?” Sir Juffin Hully fired the question at me as I crossed the threshold.

“Certainly not. Don’t you know how I read the papers? I have my own method. First, the paper has to lie around for a while on my desk—I’d say no fewer than half a dozen days. It’s always good if it has been trampled on a bit. This increases the information density. It’s also a good thing if they’ve tried to throw it away a few times, and I heroically rescued it from the hands of a trembling janitor. Only after every point in this ritual has been observed do I get down to reading it. By then the news has lost its relevance. It has become history, one might say. Thus, instead of trivial rubbish intended for mass consumption, I read a virtual chronicle of bygone days. What do you think of my method?”

“I approve,” Juffin said. “I like everything you do without exception. Observing you is like watching cartoons. Nevertheless, you should acquaint yourself with the contents of today’s issue without delay. Congratulations, Lord Fanghaxra. Your heroic people won the war against the whatchamacallits . . . you know . . . Oh, a hole in the heavens above me!”—Juffin jabbed at the paper—“the Manooks! Those fellows really went overboard with their gift for you, didn’t they, Max?”

“For me? As far as I remember, His Majesty King Gurig VIII was the only one who stood to gain anything from this war. Let him be the one to rejoice,” I said with a yawn. Then I grew indignant. “Wait a minute. Why do I have to get that kind of news from a newspaper? I’m their sovereign. Where is the official delegation of my loyal subjects? They’re supposed to appear before my stern but benevolent gaze to boast of their achievements and congratulate me with the victory. No?”

“I think he’s caught on,” Juffin said, laughing. “Don’t worry, Scourge of the Steppes. A delegation of your subjects is already on the way. The publisher of the Royal Voice has a good friend in the suite of the Dark Sack. And both of them, in contrast to your brave nomads, have a command of Silent Speech. This means that Sir Rogro receives information from the Barren Lands even before His Majesty Gurig does. Then again, that’s his job, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I said uncertainly, “and he’s good at it. So these brave lads are coming here any day now? And I’ll have to sit through a formal reception on the occasion of victory and all that jazz? Bummer.”

“Yes, I’m afraid you won’t be able to get away with a casual half-hour chat this time around,” Juffin said. “You’ll get over it, though. It won’t be today, nor even tomorrow, so you can forget about it for the time being.”

He rolled up the newspaper, then placed it carefully on the floor and stomped on it a few times. Then he handed me the desecrated publication, straightened out the folds of his silver looxi in a stately manner, and headed for the door.

“Judging by the dreamy expression on your face, you are making your way to the Street of Old Coins,” I said.

“What superhuman perspicacity,” the boss said. “‘Judging by the expression on your face,’ he says. I go there every evening, and you know it. Good night, Max.”

“Good it will be,” I said in a conciliatory tone and sat down in the now unoccupied armchair. I unrolled the flattened newspaper. Juffin had really gone overboard with the stomping.

The night was suspiciously uneventful. All signs pointed to something nasty that was about to happen—something like, say, a dress rehearsal for the End of the World.

We had basically been twiddling our thumbs since spring. I couldn’t remember when the Secret Investigative Force had been spared unpleasantness for such a long stretch. All my colleagues had managed to finagle dozen-day vacations for themselves, hightail it somewhere, and return here. Now they were already getting cabin fever again. All of them but Juffin and me. The boss continued acquainting himself with the cinematographic arts of my homeland, and I held down the fort in our office at the House by the Bridge. In fact, this suited me to a T. There’s something soothing about reporting daily for work. At that time, for better or for worse, it replaced the hard ground that I could hardly remember ever having under my feet.

The morning brought no alarming news, however. The same could be said of the following day and night. The lull continued for a few more days, until the arrival of my subjects.

Lady Xeilax’s call reached me at sunrise. I had just managed to doze off in my armchair, but her Silent Speech jolted me awake. Until then, not one of the sisters had sent me a call, although Tekki had been boasting for a long time about how easy it had been to teach the girls this skill. They were already quite uninhibited around me these days. Life in the Capital of the Unified Kingdom and regular contact with the dubious characters from the Secret Investigative Force would probably put anyone at ease.

Excuse me for disturbing you at this hour, but a delegation of your subjects headed by my uncle—Barxa Bachoy—has just arrived at the Furry House, she said.

Fine, I said. I’m glad they’ve come. Please help them settle in. I’ll be there in the evening.

Again, I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but these people have come to tell you about their victory, Xeilax objected. It has long been our custom for the commander who won the war to greet his king with the Victory Dance. And Barxa Bachoy has already begun his dance. You know, Sir Max, the dance has many complex moves, and uncle Barxa, unfortunately, is getting on in years. I doubt he’ll last till evening.

But can’t he just retire to a room to rest and begin toe-tapping again toward evening?

The Victory Dance cannot be interrupted once it has begun. Uncle Barxa could fall under an eternal curse!

Got it. I’m on my way. Thanks for the heads-up, Xeilax. And you were so good to send me a call. I’m really very grateful.

I took a hefty swig of Elixir of Kaxar—without that wondrous concoction I would have perished long ago—and sent a call to Kofa. He was the only person I could disturb at that hour without terrible pangs of conscience.

Could you take over here? I said.

Has something finally happened? He was excited.

Yes, but not to us. Just to me. The time has come for me to fulfill my duties as sovereign.

Poor kid, Sir Kofa said with honest sympathy.

At that moment I felt just as sorry for myself.

I parked the amobiler a block away from the Furry House. It was impossible to get any nearer—a herd of menkals was ambling about, blocking the road. Their antlers were bedecked with a record number of trinkets. I assumed they must have been trophies of war.

Several dozen nomads awaited me in my house. Since the time I had taught them to tie their headscarves like pirate bandannas instead of babushkas, the Xenxa warriors had acquired some sense of style. Now all I had to do was teach them to stop dragging around their enormous sacks everywhere they went. Well, and their knee-length bellbottoms didn’t quite fit the image of fierce nomad warriors who reigned supreme on the field of battle. The hems of their trousers could be let out to, say, calf length so they could get used to the change gradually.

My plans for government reform were not exactly what you would call ambitious.

At one time I had announced to my subjects that I would always confer with them sitting on the threshold of the reception hall. I said the sovereign occupied the space between his people and the heavens to separate and protect one from the other—I was on a roll when I came up with that one.

Now I had to follow protocol. I sat down cross-legged on the threshold. A bearded giant, the ferocious commander Barxa Bachoy, made a beeline for me with a mincing ballet step not at all in keeping with his demeanor. From time to time he executed a dexterous little leap that ended in a somersault. I was astonished at the ease with which such a hulk of a fellow could defy gravity. In fact, it was beyond belief.

When he was very near, he carried out such an intricate sequence of flips that I began wondering whether my eyes had deceived me. After this, however, Barxa Bachoy ceased challenging the laws of nature with his acrobatics and stood rooted to the spot in a reverential pose.

“We have been victorious, O Fanghaxra!” he said, raising his hairy, muscular arms to the sky. “We smeared the Manooks and captured Esra, their leader. Along with him we captured his brothers, sons, daughters, servants, and menkals.”

“His menkals, too?” I said.

It was the first time I had encountered such an attitude toward enemy steeds.

“Yes, the menkals, too,” my “general” insisted. “We banned the Manooks from pitching their tents by the holy springs of your lands, we banned them from raising their prayers to your heavens, we ordered them and their children to remove their hats, we received one thousand sacks of tribute from the Manooks, and we told these poor people to remain at home, awaiting your commands in fear.”

“In fear—right-o,” I said, trying to stay serious.

“You have brought us luck and victory, sire,” said Barxa Bachoy.

“And you have brought me luck and victory. Good job.” My speech-making skills were wanting, but I gave it my best shot.

“What should we do now, sire? Command us.”

My general spoke with such fervor that I grew ashamed of my own frivolous indifference to the matter. Should I die, for Pete’s sake, and be born again a new man?

“Now you must rest,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else. “You have traveled a long road and are weary, so you must sleep a good sleep. I haven’t had much sleep myself, as a matter of fact. I suggest we continue our discussion in the evening. In my palace you will find plenty of chambers and servants, and you will all be very comfortable. If you should need something, don’t hesitate to ask. You are my honored guests.”

Then I had a brilliant idea. Arriving at one of the local taverns with these handsome lads in tow—what a spectacle that would be!

“I hereby invite you to dine with me,” I said.

“What an honor, sire,” Barxa Bachoy said, breathless with awe. “Never before has a king of the Xenxa shared a meal with his subjects. Heretofore, even the royal family was only permitted to observe this marvelous event while seated on the threshold.”

“That may be, but you deserve this honor,” I said. “I’ll fetch you at sundown and we’ll set out together. For now, take your rest.”

When I had finished my royal duties, I hightailed it home, to the little bedroom above the Armstrong & Ella. I hoped that any further call of royal duty could wait until noon, at least.

Strange as it may seem, wait it did. I didn’t get a single call demanding that I dash off somewhere on the double. When I woke up, I felt wonderful, as though I had managed to come by a brand-new body.

“I’ve already read the morning papers. Looks like a whirlwind of social activity has commenced for you,” said Tekki.

She had guessed that I was awake and was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. In the bright light of the noonday sun, her silhouette looked almost transparent. Still groggy from sleep, I almost doubted her reality and felt a jolt of alarm. If there was anything I feared, it was that I would one day discover she was only a clump of preternatural, silvery mist like her ghostly siblings.

But Tekki was real. In the flesh. I had been seeing things.

“I’m still hoping that my social life won’t be too frenzied,” I said, smiling, and embraced my beautiful mirage. “But tonight I plan to treat my subjects to dinner. I just haven’t decided which little tavern is fated to endure our intrusion. Maybe you can suggest a place? Do you have any sworn enemies among your fellow tavern keepers, honey?”

“I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemies. The main thing is not to bring them here.”

“Magicians forbid. Did you think I’d drag my vassals to a two-bit dive where you can’t even get a morsel of food? These fellows are ignorant barbarians, of course, but they’re still decent family men and not some worthless boozers.”

I could have continued my tirade for another hour or two, but I was forced to shut up. In a most pleasant way, I might add.

Still, half an hour later I was already sitting in Juffin’s office. I was scheduled to pay a visit to His Majesty Gurig VIII to receive further instructions for the nomads, and the boss had agreed to accompany me. So sweet of him. Let’s just say that even though I had managed to travel unaccompanied through the Corridor between Worlds and wander around the Dark Side, that still didn’t mean I was ready to venture into Rulx Castle all alone. It would be easier to die, as our idiosyncratic Arvaroxian friends were wont to say.

“All right, let’s get going,” Juffin said, stuffing a pile of self-inscribing tablets into his desk drawer. “If I don’t escape this scribbling duty soon, I’m going to mutiny and join some conspiracy or other.”

“And that will be the beginning of the end of the Unified Kingdom,” I said.

“Exactly.”

When we went outside, Juffin headed toward my amobiler but then seemed to change his mind.

“The castle is a stone’s throw away, and it would be a shame not to stroll along the Royal Bridge on a day like this. The weather is perfect.”

“But why is the king expecting us in Rulx Castle?” I said. “The king is usually in his summer residence at this time of year.”

“Our king is simply capricious, like anyone with a bit of life in him. And this summer the king is really living it up. He announced that the interiors of Anmokari Castle were in dire need of a makeover. Moreover, he has had sudden urges on a daily basis to admire the panorama of the Left Bank as seen from the window of King Mynin’s study on the top floor of Rulx Castle. In short, Gurig has flatly refused to move to his summer residence, and I support him in this decision. If you consistently follow convention, you risk losing your wits.”

“Yes, you do,” I said, like one who knows.

Once inside the castle, we were surrounded by ancient walls steeped in the alarming scent of forgotten mysteries. Stern bearded sentries threw garments woven from a sort of metallic netting over our shoulders. These symbolized our helplessness before the might of this hallowed place. Then we were seated on palanquins—the means of transport that royal etiquette decreed for the express “comfort” of every visitor to the castle, but which defied common sense, as far as I was concerned. After this, we were borne away to the Minor Royal Reception Hall.

His Majesty Gurig VIII was off on his break, officially mandated by royal protocol. We had to wait for him almost ten minutes. The king was in such a splendid mood that I couldn’t help but envy him. It seemed that he considered the modest victory of my touching subjects over their neighboring tribe to be a historic occasion of major importance.

“Everything is simply marvelous. We’ve been very lucky with these nomads of yours, Sir Max,” said the king, indicating that we should sit down in some comfy armchairs by the window. “I must admit I didn’t expect them to conquer the Manooks so easily. Apart from them, the Xenxa had never had any serious rivals. The Chancellory of Concerns of Worldly Affairs claims that your subjects and the Manooks are the only sizable tribes inhabiting the Barren Lands. Other peoples number only four or five dozen men, women, and children. It is hardly likely that they will unite against a common enemy, and if they do it will be too late. By that time the Barren Lands will already have become our territory. Here, take this,” he said, holding out to me a pile of papers. “These are instructions for your general. He’s done us proud, this Sir Barxa Bachoy. I have half a mind to keep such a commander for myself.”

“He’s already working for you as it is,” I said.

“You are very right, Max. Now let them know that they must subjugate all the Barren Lands. They should be able to do so in a trice. That bunch of papers I gave you contains a detailed map of the Barren Lands. Indicated on it are arable land, water supplies, and populated (in a manner of speaking) areas. I found an erudite courtier familiar with the cartography of the Xenxa to make it, so your subjects won’t have any problems. Sir Mulex swears up and down that this is so, in any case. Give your people one year to complete the task. My advisers assure me that even half a year would suffice, but why burden the people unnecessarily? One year will suit me just fine.”

“Matters of state should not be rushed. Otherwise they don’t carry enough weight,” I piped up.

“You are absolutely right, Sir Max,” said Gurig. “I always said you would make an excellent monarch. Well, shall we consider the matter decided? I hope you’ll agree to drink something in my company, gentlemen?”

“Have no fear,” Juffin said. “This, dare I say, colleague of yours can drink a sea of kamra at one sitting. Especially when he is a guest at someone’s table.”

“A very admirable quality,” the king said earnestly.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” I said. “One more matter, to conclude our discussion. My subjects are asking me what they should do with the conquered Manooks. It’s all the same to me, but . . .”

“Me too. They may eat them, if that would be your pleasure.”

“I don’t think that would really be our pleasure,” I said, distraught.

“If your people do not wish to eat their captives, let them bring their king here to the Capital,” Gurig said. “He must swear eternal fealty to you, according to the customs of the steppe tribes. Then let the people live as they see fit. The main thing is that they don’t interfere in our efforts to subjugate the Barren Lands. Now I propose that we change the topic. Sir Hully, you promised last spring to tell me the story of the Lonely Shadows, and I still haven’t heard it. Perhaps now is the time?”

For the next hour I enjoyed life to the hilt. I guzzled the royal kamra and listened raptly to the story of my own adventures. The king gazed at Juffin like a child listening to a fairy tale at its grandmother’s knee.

It was all so pleasant that I would have liked to stay in Rulx Castle until deep in the night. Alas, when two monarchs and one Venerable Head of the Secret Investigative Force find themselves in one place at the same time, their tête-à-tête is not destined to last long. The official consensus is that we are all terribly busy, though I for one would not consider that claim to be axiomatic.

Juffin, in any case, was evidence to the contrary. He looked askance at the entrance to the House by the Bridge, shrugged, and strode off in the direction of the Glutton Bunba. I followed obediently at the heels of the boss.

“What do you know about King Mynin’s Library?” I said, sitting down at my favorite table between the bar and a little window looking out onto the courtyard. This cozy nook seemed tailor-made to fulfill each of my many desires without exception.

“Almost nothing at all, like the rest of humanity. Apart from King Mynin himself,” the boss said. “What made you think of it all of a sudden?”

“Shurf told me the legend not long ago, but his account was very abridged. While we were being whisked around Rulx Castle on those absurd palanquins, I kept looking around and wondering which dark corner concealed the library’s secret door.”

“The door to Mynin’s Library? What a thing to search for!” Juffin looked at me with genuine interest. “Why does that whet your curiosity?”

“I don’t really know. It just intrigues me. I’d like to poke around in it for a while, just for fun.”

“You’d better be careful what you wish for,” said Juffin. “Otherwise you might get lost and end up in that sinning place for good. How would we even begin to look for you? That mythical library is just a tiny piece of another inscrutable Universe. They say that Mynin figured out how to turn the Dark Side inside out. We end up on the Dark Side when we grope around the bottom of the ocean lapping at the boundaries of the visible world. Beyond the boundaries of the Dark Side, there is something else even deeper, even more enigmatic. No one but Mynin has ever been there, with the possible exception of a few ancient sorcerers. But they didn’t bother to take any travel notes. No need to bore a hole in me with your eyes, Max. I’ve never been there, either. Honest.”

“How does anyone even know about this ‘inside out’ place, then?”

“From ancient legends that are virtually unfathomable. And from Mynin himself, naturally. And Mynin, unlike the ancient legends, you can trust. He was reputed to be the most honest person in the World. From childhood on, he was aware of the power of his own words and managed to shun the habit of lying. When every fancy that strikes you comes true and takes on a life of its own, life can become unbearable. Bear that in mind for the future, by the way.”

“Done,” I said, sighing. “The Dark Side inside out, you say? Wow.”

“Ah, your eyes are glittering, I see,” Juffin said, laughing. “I don’t recognize you, Sir Max. When you have to learn a trifling little trick, you announce to the World that I terrorize you by forcing you to learn some two-bit wonder. But as soon as the talk turns to things that strike terror even into me, you start drooling in anticipation. Maybe you’re just bored?”

“Maybe,” I said. “But more likely I just don’t want to live in the Middle of the Woods.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t you remember? Melifaro once talked your ear off about the strange characters who put us up for the night when we traveled to Landaland. They’re people who think that their house and their forest are the whole World because that’s what their late parents told them.”

“Ah, yes, now I remember.” Juffin looked at me searchingly, then smiled a pensive, sad smile. “Don’t fret, Sir Max. The fate of the inhabitants of the Middle of the Woods wouldn’t befall you even if you begged for it.”

“I believe you,” I said. “And it’s for the best, though you’ll no doubt have to hear my wails of terror.”

“That I can deal with. I’ve heard plenty in my time.”

After dinner we parted ways. The boss left for the House by the Bridge, and I decided to take a stroll through town. There was nothing else to do anyway. I had agreed to meet up with the nomads at sunset, which was still two hours away. That didn’t leave me enough time to go home, but it was too long for me to continue warming the stool with my buns at the Bunba.

I rambled through the Old City. A light breeze from the Xuron tumbled about like a puppy, nipping me now from the left, now from the right, and even tugging amiably at my clothes. The occasional passerby preferred to keep a good distance away from me—the Mantle of Death neutralized all my charm.

At the intersection of the Street of Gloomy Clouds and the Street of Lanterns, I paused, trying to decide which one to take. And just then, one of my hearts knocked at my ribcage—a single but insistent thud. I shuddered, turned around, and discovered that a shady-looking character was following just a few steps behind me. I couldn’t quite make out the face, and I had no time to gauge his intentions. My left hand started jerking, and my fingers snapped, releasing a Lethal Sphere.

A moment later I was staring in perplexity at a body lying immobile on the ground. This time my Lethal Sphere had not turned the poor fellow into my trusty slave. In the blink of an eye, the tiny ball of green light had fulfilled its function: killing a stranger instantaneously and, judging by the peaceful expression on his face, completely painlessly.

I sat down on my haunches next to the body of my victim. Only then did I notice that the stranger was wearing round eyeglasses with dark-violet, nearly opaque lenses. Until then I had never seen glasses like this on any of the Echo inhabitants.

Gosh, was he blind or something? I thought, horrified. Congratulations on the greatest victory in your life, Sir Max. It seems you’ve finally snuffed out a completely innocent person. And a blind one, to boot.

Then I sent an incoherent call to Juffin and reported my crime.

Did you say your hand trembled of its own accord? he responded. Interesting. Please refrain from any pangs of conscience at this stage in the game. You’ll have plenty of time to water all the pavements of Echo with your tears of remorse. Better pick up the corpse and bring it to the House by the Bridge. I’m dying to have a look at it.

My silent conversation with the boss had the effect of a tranquilizer strong enough to knock out a horse. My surging emotions seemed to pack themselves away in mounds of fluffy cotton, then subside altogether. Life suddenly got a whole lot better.

I ran my left hand along the dead body. It hid itself obediently in my fist. Now I just had to get it to the House by the Bridge without incident. I rushed through the city as though there were a warrant out for my arrest and my only refuge was the office of Sir Juffin Hully in the Ministry of Perfect Public Order.

I had just shot like a bullet into that very office, heaving a sigh of relief as though the hounds really were after me, when I noticed that Juffin had a visitor. He was an emaciated, bent figure. His face was splotchy with age, and he had the streaming red eyes of a veteran tippler. His long, greasy, tangled locks of hair hung all over our long-suffering desk. He was dressed in rags so old, they looked like they were pushing eternity. The occasional beggars that you came across now and then in the port were dapper men-about-town compared to this guy.

“You run almost as fast as you drive,” Juffin said, smiling. “Well, you’ll just have to wait a bit. It’s your own fault.”

I nodded and went out to the Hall of Common Labor. I was in an abysmal funk. I had plenty of grounds for it. Those grounds were located right between the thumb and the index finger of my left hand.

“Whence the expression of bitterness on thy noble countenance?” Melifaro said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “Is being a cuckold really so bad? You should have thought about that sooner. Now it’s too late.”

“What? Oh, that. To each his own, but the naked sure need a bath.”

Melifaro blinked, unable to follow the sudden twist in the narrative.

“What, you mean it really is ‘too late’ already?” I said, alarmed. “You managed to seduce the poor innocent?”

“That’s none of your business,” Melifaro said defensively. Then he added in a softer tone, “And the question is, who seduced whom?”

He seemed eager to continue the conversation, but the door to Juffin’s office was flung open just then and the aforementioned bedraggled gentleman emerged. He walked on bent legs, but his step was so light, he seemed to weigh nothing at all.

Melifaro watched the spectacle in perplexity. He seemed even more surprised by it than I was. Paying no attention to us, the pathetic creature tripped his way over to the exit and disappeared.

“An elf,” Melifaro said finally. “I wonder what he’s doing in Echo.”

“An elf?” I thought I had misheard.

“Of course, wasn’t it obvious? Ordinary people can’t descend to such a benighted state and still remain alive.”

“Surprised, boys?” Juffin said merrily. “I must admit, my jaw dropped, too, when he appeared on my doorstep. And if you knew what sort of present he brought me . . .”

“But was he a real elf?” I said, my voice dropping a register.

“Of course. Ah, you don’t know about elves.”

“I thought I knew until a moment ago. What happened to him? He looks like he’s been on a drinking binge for the past hundred years.”

“Oh, come now. When have you ever seen such a youthful elf? They’ve usually been drinking since childhood, anyway. This specimen has been at the bottle without stopping for the past millennium, at the very least.”

“What was he doing in the Capital?” Melifaro said.

“All in due time. First, I want to make a short trip to the morgue for the benefit of our Nocturnal Representative here. In a few minutes we’ll return, and I’ll explain everything,” Juffin said. “Come on, Max. Let’s see what you’ve done.”

“Oh, I see you’ve been killing poor defenseless people again,” Melifaro said with a snort.

I smiled a crooked smile and went out into the hallway. For the first time since we had met, his idiotic joke had really hit home. And with what devastating effect.

“Okay, Max. Let’s see your trophy,” Juffin said, leading the way into the tiny, dark morgue.

His good mood was indestructible. It even seemed to grow more jubilant by the second, if that were at all possible.

I shook my hand, and the body of the unfortunate blind man tumbled to the floor. Juffin crouched down beside the dead man and removed his dark glasses. Then he examined him carefully, hemmed with satisfaction, and looked up at me as if I were the newest addition to the city zoo.

“What was that you said about your hand, Max? That it trembled of its own accord?”

“Yes,” I said with a sinking feeling.

“And now you’re wracked with guilt,” Juffin said with feigned sympathy. “Fine. Now I’ll relieve you of it. Watch.”

He carefully opened the convulsively cramped fingers of the corpse and removed a long, lethal-looking needle from its fist. Juffin turned around to face me triumphantly and waved the object under my nose. The needle emitted a faint scent of fine perfume.

“I understand that as a weapon it looks rather flimsy, but believe me, it is fatal in a practiced hand. This little knickknack was dipped in the poison known as Choice. Can you smell it? It’s unmistakable. At one time the court doctors of the kings of the Old Dynasty distilled this masterpiece from thousands of ingredients, specifically tailored to the needs of their clients. Remnants of this historical luxury keep turning up in the most unexpected places, to my deep regret. A needle dipped in Choice must be thrust into the victim precisely at the base of the neck. This is mandatory—otherwise the poison rarely leads to a fatal outcome unless the victim is of particularly weak constitution. But if it hits the mark, the victim doesn’t just expire; the body disappears completely, along with the clothes and boots, which is truly uncanny.”

“Holy smokes,” I muttered. “So you mean I was about to disappear, too? Delightful.”

“That’s about the long and short of it,” said Juffin. “Your wise heart sensed misfortune in the offing, and your hand took it upon itself to deal with it while you were dithering and trying to grasp what was going on. Amazing. If I were still the Kettarian Hunter, I’d try to recruit you as my apprentice.”

“You’ve already managed to waste Magicians know how much time teaching me,” I said.

“Naturally. But I’m no longer the Kettarian Hunter. I’m just Sir Venerable Head these days. I’m far less demanding now.”

“I wonder who it was that felt the urge to rid this wonderful World of my no less wonderful body?” I said.

“To answer that we have to do some work. I, for one, have no idea who he is. Never laid eyes on him before.”

“But why would such an important task have been entrusted to a blind man?” I said.

“What makes you think he was blind?” said Juffin. “His eyes look like they’re in the right place to me.”

“And the eyeglasses? Blind people wear glasses like that in my homeland.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know who wears them there. But tell me this. How can someone with both his eyes intact be blind? That’s why we have wisemen, after all. As for the eyeglasses, they are needed so as not to miss the mark. Try them on, you’ll see what I mean.”

I put the glasses on and understood at once what they were for. I could hardly make out the figure of my boss in front of me, but I could see several bright dots on his body that formed an asymmetrical geometric shape.

“The topmost dot is the one you need to hit if you’re using Choice poison,” said Juffin. “Come on now, take off that piece of antique junk. Simple, isn’t it? They must have belonged to some court assassin at one time. The ancient kings held such experts in very high regard.”

“So what do we do now?” I said anxiously.

“While you’re amusing yourself with your subjects, I’ll try to revive this lovely specimen. And when you come back, we’ll have a little confidential talk with him. That should be easy. Since we found out that you’re able to get resurrected dead men to talk, investigation has become a simple and nauseatingly boring routine. You won’t be disappointed if I deprive you of the opportunity to contemplate this dead body?”

“Not really. Of course, I’ll run off to sob in the bathroom, but not for more than half an hour. I promise.”

“That’s reassuring. Let’s go. Melifaro’s waiting for us. That is, if he hasn’t died of curiosity.”

“I’m dying of curiosity, too, by the way,” I said, closing the door of the morgue behind me. “That hideous elf of yours, a hole in the heavens above his hoary head! Tell me, Juffin, are all elves really that unsightly?”

“Most of them are even uglier. Why does that surprise you?”

“I’ve read heaps of books about elves. Not here, of course, but at home. For the most part they were just fairy tales, but they were based on ancient legends. The stories they tell about them vary a great deal, but they all seem to agree on one thing: elves are wonderful, immortal, magical beings. And now along comes this bedraggled old wino.”

“Wonderful, immortal, magical beings—precisely,” Juffin said, nodding. “This is what they were at one time. But they were destroyed by their love of pleasure. Everything was fine until they transgressed an ancient prohibition and tasted wine. They liked it so much that since that time their lives are completely given over to satisfying this craving. Remember that elves are still immortal, so they can’t drink themselves into the grave. The poor things are doomed to live on the edge of it, and this, as you yourself noticed, is a joyless spectacle.”

“Why have I never seen them before now?”

“Because they live in the enchanted Shimured Forest, to the west of Uguland. Echoers don’t exactly welcome them with open arms, and other towns aren’t very accommodating, either. The fellow you saw in my office came to me on an important matter. He worked quite a few wonders to avoid falling into the welcoming hands of the vigilant police force. It’s a miracle the poor guy still knows how.”

We caught up with Melifaro. “Well, Sir Melifaro, are you still dying of curiosity?” Juffin said.

“Consider me dead. All is lost, you might say. My dear mama always predicted that no good would come of my serving in the Secret Investigative Force. Tell her she was right.”

“I will,” Juffin said. “Let’s go to the office, boys. You won’t believe what I’m about to show you.”

Melifaro and I guffawed since we had a ready-made retort to that question: “What, your butt?” The effects were all the more exhilarating when the retort remained unexpressed.

Juffin paid no attention to us, however. He had no time for such nonsense. He had to put all his effort into undoing his own spell and opening the bookcase. This flimsy excuse for office furniture from a bygone era preserved the secrets of the Secret Investigative Force much more reliably than a fireproof safe. I wouldn’t envy the fate of the madman who tried to break into it without permission. I suspected that even Juffin was taking a big risk every time he tried to open it. And he was the one who had cast the spell in the first place.

This time it didn’t take him very long to open the bookcase. He only resorted to a couple of strong expletives. Normally, he was much less restrained at such moments.

“Behold,” Juffin said triumphantly, taking from the bookcase a large, messy bundle and carefully unwrapping the tattered cloth.

We stared in perplexity at a large piece of greenish metal that prompted one to wonder whether, thousands of years ago, some naive human being could seriously have considered this lump of scrap iron to be a weapon.

“What is it?” Melifaro said, breaking the silence.

“I’ll bet it’s the Sword of King Arthur,” I said grinning.

“Who’s King Arthur? We’ve never had a king by that name,” Melifaro said. “Or did we?”

“Ahem. Your friend got carried away again, that’s all,” Juffin said. “Nevertheless, he was almost right—in that it actually is a sword. Only it belonged not to some mystery king named Arthur but to our own King Mynin.”

“That’s the actual Sword of King Mynin?” Melifaro stared reverently, standing on tiptoe to see it better. Then he sighed. “It certainly looks like it’s seen better days.”

“Yes, it’s a sorry sight now,” Juffin said. “But fret not. I’ll perform some hocus-pocus on it, and tomorrow King Mynin’s Sword will be a sight for sore eyes. I’ll restore it to its former gleaming splendor. It’s a wonder that it still exists. That besotted elf buried this legendary weapon at the roots of a tree fifteen hundred years ago when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to cut his hair with it. Early this spring he finally dug it up again. He was in the throes of a terrible hangover and was looking for a stash he thought he had somewhere—hair of the dog, you know. Fortunately, he hit upon the idea of selling this relic to a dealer in the Capital. Like all the others, this elf had long ago forgotten his own name, but I suspect it might have been Toklian the Bright. Even in poor health he was still of sound mind. Can you imagine, he even tried to haggle with me?”

“The Bright Master of Shimured, legendary Elf King, childhood friend and teacher of King Mynin? Sinning Magicians, better he had died in battle by the Bay of Gokki,” Melifaro mused.

“That would have been preferable, of course, but no one asked us,” Juffin said drily.

“Wait a minute. There’s one thing I still don’t get. How did he get the Sword of Mynin in the first place? And did he really show up here just to sell it?”

“Yes,” Juffin said. “That’s exactly why he came. He had no thought of giving it away. Luckily, the poor fellow recalls very well those times when one crown was considered to be a fortune. Those are the only times he does recall since he played no active part in what happened subsequently. So Mynin’s Sword only cost me eleven crowns. And boy, did we haggle! The fellow demanded a dozen, and I was so intent on beating down the price that I began to believe myself that it was a substantial amount. I insisted on ten. We finally agreed on eleven. Buying King Mynin’s Sword for eleven crowns, cheaper than any thrift store junk from the late Code Epoch—unbelievable! I don’t feel a bit of remorse, either. The Shimured Elves only want money to buy ‘real Capital city hooch’—to use the expression of our guest. He’s grown tired of just drinking elfin moonshine, especially over the past thousand years. Imagine how many bottles of Jubatic Juice you could buy with eleven crowns. Sir Dondi Melixis can sleep peacefully, though. I won’t demand that the Treasury compensate me for expenses. It will be enough for me to have Mynin’s Sword in my possession.”

“Can I play with it?” I said.

“Maybe,” said Juffin. Unlike me, he was completely serious. “As for your previous question, when it comes to our legendary king, you can never be sure what his motives were. I’m almost certain, however, that he gave his sword to the elves himself. Why not? In those days the Shimured Elves were the ‘magical beings’ you read about in all your books. It would never have occurred to anyone that they would one day violate the only ban they were under.”

“It’s good I’m not an elf,” Melifaro said somberly. “Still, I think I’ll pass up that drink tonight. Tomorrow I may reconsider.”

“My, my, what impressionable employees I have!”

“Oh, shucks! I’ve got to be off,” I said. “It’s almost sunset. If I don’t take my subjects out to dinner, they’ll lose faith in the goodness of humanity and take to drink, too.”

“That’s all we need, a bunch of nomadic tipplers,” Juffin said, laughing. “Go on, then. But don’t forget to come back. If you return before midnight, I’ll be happy.”

“I’ll try,” I promised. “I’m going to explain to my military commander that exemplary subjects must obey their monarch, eat well, and hit the sack early. I lack the brainpower to come up with anything more original.”

“Do your wives also have to take part in this dubious outing?” said Melifaro. “Remember, Lady Kenlex has made other plans for the evening.”

“It makes no difference to me what kinds of plans she has,” I growled. I made a threatening face, but then I took pity on the lovesick fellow. “All right, all right. I’ll try to get along without the girls.”

Actually, the sisters made the decision all on their own. I ran into them just as they were leaving the Furry House. Three chic young ladies, dressed to the nines—who would have thought that not even a year had gone by since the frightened girls had exchanged their quilted jackets and short trousers for elegant looxis.

“Sinning magicians, you look absolutely gorgeous!” I said without a trace of sarcasm. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Thank you,” the triplets said in unison.

“That wasn’t a compliment. I was just calling a spade a spade.” I beamed at them. “Are you going out on the town? Good for you. Tired of being queens?”

“Not at all,” Xeilax said. “We were happy to see our people and to hear all the news from home. So much has happened since we left! But they’re expecting you now, and we decided that we could step out for a bit. We may, may we not?” she said timidly.

“Of course you may. You may do whatever you wish. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”

They smiled and said goodbye, then hurried off into the orange mist cast by the streetlamps. I gazed after them in approval. The girls were quickly getting used to their newfound freedom. Now they were already finding their way around the Capital of the Unified Kingdom, making friends, and even losing their hearts. This was just as it should be.

Droopy interrupted my musings. He ran up wagging his shaggy ears, stood on his hind legs, and placed his front paws squarely on my shoulders, but I managed to stay on my feet. The huge mobile mound of snow-white fur was already half a head taller than me, and it didn’t look like he was planning on abandoning his growth spurt just yet. I groaned and begged the dog to stop his shenanigans. Droopy licked my nose in ecstasy and obediently resumed his four-legged perspective on the world.

I grabbed my pet by his ruff, and we entered the house.

The delegation of nomads had already gathered there. It was so quiet in the hall that not only did it seem they weren’t talking, they weren’t even breathing.

“Good evening!” I almost shouted. “Let’s go eat.”

The tavern that was fated to suffer our intrusion was the Sated Skeleton, for the simple reason that it was close by. From my interactions with the sister trio, I had come to understand that my people had a sweet tooth of inconceivable proportions, so I knew just what to order: a triple dessert course, with ten dozen pastries, for starters.

I had exaggerated when I described for Tekki the horrors of the impending social event. It was actually very pleasant, quite homey and cozy: the nomads sat around the large table, listening attentively to my confused words about the battles they would be waging and waxing enthusiastic about the sweets they were being treated to. Their stern faces, spotted with whipped cream, expressed utter bliss.

The other customers looked on in curiosity and wonder. Of course, my Mantle of Death put something of a damper on the prospects for a spontaneous international exchange, but that was probably all for the best.

After this gastronomical orgy, I led my subjects in disorderly formation back to the Furry House. I was brimming with paternal pride. For that reason, in addition to the envelope with the king’s directives, I gave Barxa Bachoy a hundred crowns and ordered him to spend the money solely on acquiring sweets for my heroic people. That was approximately enough to get a dozen cartloads of the best pastries. The only remaining problem was how to deliver the valuable cargo to the steppes of their homeland.

“You still didn’t tell us what to do with Esra, sire,” Barxa Bachoy reminded me.

“Ah, yes, your prisoner, the Lord of the Manooks,” I said. “You must bring him to Echo so that he can swear allegiance to me on behalf of his people. Can they be trusted to keep their word?”

“Some of them can,” Barxa Bachoy said. “I will make sure that Fairiba accompanies him here. His wisdom is great enough to distinguish a genuine oath from empty promises.”

“Great. Then we can let him go. I don’t really feel like becoming Lord of the Manooks, as well.

“Of course you couldn’t wish such a thing!” My commander seemed horror-struck. “Lord Fanghaxra cannot allow himself to sink so low as to rule over some paltry mouse-eaters.”

“It’s a good thing that our views on this matter coincide. But why do you call the Manooks ‘mouse-eaters’? Do they really eat rodents?”

“Yes, it happens that nowadays they do eat mice. In fact, they shun no food of any sort. But our elders still remember the time when mice ate the Manooks,” Barxa Bachoy said with contempt. “Those cowardly lumps of dung fed their own newborn babies to the Mouse Lord, a dozen per year, to appease that filthy spawn of darkness. They say he worked some loathsome wonders in exchange. But do you really wish me to talk of such matters, sire?”

“Nah, not really,” I said. “I must leave you now. It’s time for me to report to duty.”

I couldn’t keep back a smile, in view of the incongruity of the situation—the king admitting to his subjects that he’s beholden to his own boss.

“When should we go back home, sire?” Barxa Bachoy said, with dry but admirable pragmatism.

“As soon as you’ve stocked up on souvenirs.”

“Everything will be done as you request, sire. Tomorrow morning we will do our shopping, and we will leave just after midday. There is one more thing I should tell you. We have brought you offerings. It is that portion of the plunder of war that we consider worthy of you. Will you accept it from us?”

“I hope it isn’t a new lot of girls wishing to be my wives,” I said warily.

“No. They are not living creatures at all, sire. Only things. We will show them to you, if you wish.”

“I want very much to see my gifts, but I don’t have the time. Let’s do this: I’ll go to work, and you give the presents to Lady Xeilax. That way I’ll be accepting them, only indirectly. And tomorrow I’ll take a look at them. You won’t feel hurt or insulted by that, will you?”

“How could we feel hurt or insulted by you, O Fanghaxra?” Barxa Bachoy exclaimed. “We’re happy that you’ve agreed to accept our offerings. We couldn’t hope for more.”

After bestowing my paternal blessings on my trusty vassals, I left for the House by the Bridge.

“You’ll have to wait a bit, Max.” Juffin said, poking his head out of the morgue. “You did such a thorough job killing this poor soul that there was nothing I could do to revive him at first. Sit down in the office. I’ll call for you shortly.”

To be honest, I was grateful. If there was anything I was dreaming of at that moment, it was a cigarette. I wanted to smoke in peace. I went into the office and dropped into the armchair, propped up my feet on the desk, and stared out the window. I sat like that for a long time, not moving. My thoughts abandoned me one by one, like rats leaving a sinking ship.

Juffin jolted me back to reality.

You may proceed with the interrogation.

I stared in surprise at the crumpled cigarette I hadn’t gotten around to lighting up, then made a dash for the morgue.

The body of the failed assassin lay prostrate in the far corner. Juffin was sitting in the doorway.

“Come on, Max. This creep, Magicians be praised, will never walk again. Even I can’t help him there. But he’s quite capable of whispering a few words to us.”

“Okay,” I said, sitting down beside him. “Let me have a cigarette and collect my thoughts.”

“Go ahead, collect away,” the boss said.

By the time I had smoked half my cigarette, I knew I was ready. I really did have a few questions for this lately revived dead man. I could only hope that my Lethal Spheres would obey my conscious desires as they had heretofore obeyed my unconscious impulses. I raised my left hand and snapped my fingers. I had grown increasingly sensitive to the aesthetic impression made by this laconic magical gesture. Juffin looked on, bemused by my vanity, but said nothing.

“I am with you, Master,” the dead man mumbled faintly after the tiny sphere of green light that leaped from my fingers had melted and swathed his body in an almost invisible mist.

I instinctively took a step back when I noticed the corpse begin to stir. The dead man clearly wanted to crawl closer to me, but praise be the Magicians, he couldn’t even manage to budge an inch.

“Why are you so jittery?” Juffin said, laughing. “I told you he couldn’t move. And what if he could? You’re being absurd.”

“So I am.”

“Come on, don’t dawdle. I don’t want to stay here till the Last Day of the Year,” the boss said, urging me on.

“Tell me who commanded you to kill me,” I said, turning to the dead man.

“No one commanded me. It was my own decision,” he said.

His reply irked me no end. I had thought the killer would tell us the name of his employer, and that would be the end of it. Juffin was surprised, too—if I interpreted the angle of his slightly raised eyebrow correctly.

“Fine. You it was, then. But why?” I said, perplexed.

“Because I thought you were a bad man,” the dead man said.

“Thank you for the elucidation,” Juffin said with a laugh. “Max, I think your interrogation has reached an impasse. Here’s a piece of advice: ask him who he is and where he got hold of the Choice. Maybe then we’ll get somewhere.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling. “By the way, right up until this happened I was absolutely certain of the power of my charms.”

“Please stay focused. We have a whole life ahead of us that we can devote to the subject of ‘Sir Max: Is He Good, or Is He Evil?’ Now it’s time to deal with this gentleman. Unlike us, he’s in a big hurry. They’re eagerly awaiting him in the next world.”

“Certainly,” I said with a sigh. I faced our interlocutor again. “Tell us your name.”

“Donboni Goulvax.”

I gave Juffin an inquiring look.

“Never heard of him. Go on.”

I turned to the dead man again.

“Where did you get the poison and the spectacles?”

“I have always had them. My grandfather was the Secret Executioner at the court of His Majesty Gurig I. They belonged to him.”

I looked helplessly at Juffin. “I’m not getting anywhere. Maybe I should just command him to answer your questions.”

“My thoughts exactly. Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” The boss chuckled and put his finger on the tip of my nose, pressing it like a doorbell. “Some investigator you are, your majesty.”

“I’m just not having any luck with this one,” I said, rubbing my nose. “Any ordinary criminal would have spilled the beans long ago. This one is just a rare bird.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Juffin said in a conciliatory manner.

“You must answer all the Venerable Head’s questions,” I said, turning to my “rare bird.”

“Yes, Master,” the corpse said.

“Why did you think Sir Max was a bad man?” Juffin said.

“Because that is what my mistress told me.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Who is your mistress?”

“Lady Atissa Blimm.”

“Ah, it all makes sense to me now, more or less,” Juffin said. “What about you, Max?”

“Is this one of Lady Melamori’s relatives?”

“You might say that. Actually, it’s her mother.”

“Oh, brother,” I said, sighing. “You said I would have to hide from Sir Korva Blimm.”

“I was slightly off the mark. It happens,” said Juffin and turned to the dead man again. “Let’s take it from the top. What exactly did your mistress tell you about Sir Max?”

“She told me nothing at all.”

“Fine. What did she say about him in your presence, then?”

“Many times she told Sir Korva that it was Sir Max’s fault that Lady Melamori fled to Arvarox. I heard all their conversations. It has been my duty to stay by Lady Atissa’s side at all times, since—”

“Since she began to lose her mind,” Juffin said, nodding impatiently. “So you were in effect her bodyguard. Did Lady Atissa ask you to kill Sir Max?”

“No. She never asked me. Sometimes she commanded me to do things, but her commands concerned only household affairs.”

“What made you try, then?”

“From her words I understood that she would be happy if Sir Max were to die. My lady said many times that her daughter had run off to Arvarox to avoid having to see this terrible person. She was sure that Lady Melamori would return if—”

“I see,” Juffin said, interrupting him. “But what made you decide to do her that kind of favor? You should know how little credence the words of a madwoman deserve since you make a living protecting these unfortunate people.”

“I was very happy to do something to please Lady Atissa,” the dead man said. “Even now I have no regrets about it, though I realize death is not something we should strive for. At this moment, at least, I can say that I do not like being dead.”

“Fine,” Juffin said with a short nod. “Tell me something else. Did Lady Atissa know your family history? Did you ever tell her about your ancestor, the court executioner?”

“Lady Atissa never talked to me about matters like my family. She never talked to me at all. She just gave orders.”

“Indeed,” Juffin said, “she had other ways of finding out about a person they had hired to watch over her. And to realize that she is in the presence of someone who is madly in love with her is well within the power of any woman. Insane or not, Lady Atissa has always been very astute. And a brilliant schemer. You can release our prisoner, Max. I’ve found out everything I needed to know.”

“Release him?” I said, surprised. Then I understood and turned to the dead man. “I release you from the necessity of staying alive.”

I was shocked at my own words. I’m usually not so eloquent. Juffin wasted no time in approaching the dead man to make sure he had ended his unnatural posthumous existence.

“Good. Let’s get out of here, Max,” he said with a yawn.

We went up to the office without talking. The boss stared at the empty desk in annoyance.

“I sent a call to the Glutton fifteen minutes ago,” he grumbled. “Where’s the food?”

Just then the door creaked. A young assistant to Madam Zizinda hoisted a huge tray onto the desk. Juffin’s gaze grew warmer. He looked at me with sympathy.

“Are you upset, Max?”

“Fair to middling. It’s just unfortunate that Melamori is connected with this is any way. It’s as if some bloody joker had befouled the hem of her looxi, and she hasn’t noticed it yet.”

“Don’t exaggerate. Lady Melamori, Magicians be praised, is slumbering peacefully right now in a stateroom of The Surf Thorn, floating somewhere between the water and the sky, halfway to that sinning Arvarox. So the hem of her looxi is fine. Some people get along with their parents, some don’t. That’s just how it is. The one I really feel sorry for is Sir Korva Blimm. In his time he fought tooth and nail to keep his wife out of the Refuge for the Mad. Even for someone as well connected as he is, it was almost impossible, since her madness was not only incurable, but she was also a danger to those around her. It can be contagious, as the fate of her bodyguard proves. He flipped his lid, too. But Korva is as stubborn as our Melamori. That’s why Lady Atissa was able to stay at home. Now we’re going to have to intervene. Better late than never.”

“Looks like you didn’t forget my lecture on ‘flipping one’s lid,’” I said, smiling.

“How could I forget? I consider the expression to be your personal contribution to the wiseman’s arts,” Juffin said. “And why, might I ask, is your mouth still empty, while your plate is full of food? Perhaps you need a drink? If so, be my guest. Praise be the Magicians, you’re not an elf.”

“I’m so far from being an elf that I never feel like getting sloshed. Not even now.”

“That’s terrible,” Juffin said, drawing the cork from a small ceramic bottle. “I’ve never in all my days seen such a positive young man. It’s no surprise that the humble inhabitants of Echo are trying to take your life. Another’s person perfection always rankles. I definitely need a drink, though, considering the kind of conversation I’ll have to have with Korva.”

He sniffed the contents of the bottle, nodded in approval, poured it into a glass, and took a big gulp.

“Maybe we should just leave everything as it is?” I said. “Nothing really happened. A lovelorn orderly tried to make a rather nonstandard present to his patient, who was not in her right mind. So what? I’m still alive, and the would-be killer is in the morgue. I don’t see it as a problem.”

“You have rather strange ideas about what qualifies as a problem,” Juffin said. “You don’t have to extend your affection for Melamori to her parents, Max. Unlike me, you don’t even know these people. Lady Atissa and her daughter are not one and the same person, believe me.”

“I understand that very well. It’s just that I feel guilty toward the Blimms. Not guilty enough to deserve being stalked by a killer, but still. I put a lot of effort into supporting Melamori’s brave undertaking, the bravest in her life so far. But even that’s not the point. Sometimes I feel that the reason she left was because of me. Not because she couldn’t stand seeing me, of course. No, I think that she believed it was a way to finally catch up with me, and even outdo me.”

“Outdo you?”

“Yes. You know, she desperately wanted to learn to drive the amobiler faster than I do. Once we even joked that she would catch up with me one day. But it wasn’t really about the amobiler, you understand. Melamori wants to surpass me on a grand scale. Or at least catch up. It’s not even really about me—but I did become a pretty important event in her life. I’m like a novelty that she once feared. But Melamori isn’t the type to forgive herself for such lapses. Now she thinks there’s only one way out—she thinks she has to be like me. A mysterious creature up to my ears in miracles. It’s possible she went to Arvarox only because she knows I decided to leave my World one day and set out for Magicians-know-where. For ordinary Capital-city dwellers, Arvarox is almost the same as another World. Am I right?”

“Most likely.”

I shuddered under the weight of his gaze. Even a statistically average heavy gaze from Juffin weighs a ton, but this one set a new record.

“All right,” he said abruptly. “We’ll visit them together, and then we’ll see. Let’s go, Max. Korva usually goes to bed late, but he doesn’t stay up till the crack of dawn.”

The enormous Blimm mansion in the heart of the Left Bank looked more like an ancient castle. Which, in fact, it was. It had been rebuilt and renovated, and boasted a patchwork of annexes and extensions, but it was steeped in the same ineffable, disturbing smell of ancient mysteries and secrets that had tickled my nostrils that morning in Rulx Castle.

“Like it?” Juffin said. “Lady Atissa’s ancestors were distant relatives of the Ancient Royal dynasty. This little house is actually a few centuries older than Rulx. At one time it lay outside the city bounds. In those days every distinguished person had to have his own castle, especially if he wanted to enjoy nature at his leisure.”

Sir Korva Blimm, Lady Melamori’s father, about whose difficult nature she had complained more than once, met us at the door. He greeted us with calm reserve. He had the same bright-blue eyes as his amicable brother Kima, keeper of the wine cellars of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover, but their similarity ended there. Sir Korva Blimm wasn’t like any of my acquaintances, including his daughter. His grave and haughty countenance might be a welcome addition to any grandiose, formal undertaking—from a modest crusade to the conquest of the Universe.

This handsome fellow must have made quite a contribution to the Battle for the Code, I thought to myself.

“Did something happened to Melamori?” he said first thing.

“Why should something have happened to her?” Juffin said. “As far as I know, she’s just fine. Max, you’ve spoken to her recently, haven’t you?”

“The last time I heard from her was the day before yesterday,” I said, nodding. “She said she was taking part in a hunt for some enormous fish. If her words are anything to go by, the fish was several times larger than the House by the Bridge.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Sir Korva Blimm said drily. “I doubt that the size of the fish corresponds to the description, though. In all likelihood my daughter won a wrestling match with some overfed herring.”

Suddenly I started thinking that Melamori and I were comrades in sorrow. My own father also liked to downplay my achievements in public. I think if I were to go on safari and drag home a lion I had killed, he would no doubt refer to my trophy as a dead alley cat.

Of course, unlike Melamori, I had learned not to let it bother me. There were plenty of other places in the world where I could show off the lions I killed. Deep down inside, I also consider them to be just dead alley cats, but this doesn’t stop me. What’s clear is that the actual dimensions of a lion can be measured objectively. Public opinion, and even that of the hunter, doesn’t affect them in the least.

“It would be nice if you would invite us into the living room, Korva,” Juffin said. “That is not to say I have any objection to smelling the scents of a summer night, of course.”

“Please come in,” said the host.

His face showed no embarrassment whatsoever, making a seamless transition to a grimace of gracious hospitality. He looked rather annoyed, like any normal person who receives uninvited guests at home in the middle of the night.

“I need to talk to you, Korva, and Sir Max desperately needs to see your wife,” said Juffin, making himself comfortable in a sumptuous ancient armchair that might easily have served as a throne for some forgotten king.

“What kind of nonsense is this?” Korva Blimm said coldly. “Atissa is already asleep. Besides, you know very well that—”

“I know a lot of things,” Juffin said. “For instance, I know that your wife’s caretaker disappeared today. Do you want to know what happened to him? The poor fellow tried to kill Sir Max here. He was so fatigued by his failed attempt that he ended up in the morgue of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order. At first I was just going to drop in for a minute on my way home and tell you the bad news. And worse news, as well—that your wife would have to be taken away. Then I was going to sleep the sleep of the just.”

Juffin made a dramatic pause, as if to say, “Now is the moment when you start to tear out your hair and beat your chest in despair.” If I were Korva, that’s probably what I would have done. But he turned out to be a worthy match. Not a single muscle on his face so much as trembled. He eyes reflected only polite interest.

Juffin seemed impressed by his restraint and continued magnanimously:

“But this eccentric young fellow here doesn’t share my views on life. He believes that Lady Atissa should stay at home. I was too lazy to argue with him, and I brought him along so he could personally make the acquaintance of the woman whose cause he was pleading. It’s just possible that he still won’t change his mind, and I’ll again be too lazy to argue with him. And then there will be one less piece of bad news.”

“I understand,” Sir Korva said, nodding. “As you might guess, the aforementioned grievous events are as much a surprise for me as they were for you. There is no need to look upon me with reproach. I know that one should express gratitude in a situation like this, but saying thank you sounds senseless and incongruous.” Sir Korva looked intently at me. “What made you decide to intervene, Sir Max? It would have been logical for you to retaliate.”

“To be honest, I don’t know myself,” I said. “It just seemed like the right thing to do. That was the logic.”

“Very well,” he said. “I like that answer. Kima was right when he said that it was easy to get along with you. I’ll take you to see Lady Atissa. You do know that she is not necessarily the most pleasant interlocutor? But you seem to know everything already. Actually, my wife is not really that mad. Sometimes it seems to me that there are plenty of people walking the streets of Echo who are far more dangerous. They just don’t have caretakers at home who are ready to sound the alarm at a moment’s notice. Sometimes Atissa sees things that aren’t there; other times she fails to notice what’s right in front of her eyes. And she reacts too emotionally to what she sees, that’s all. The wisemen say that she’s a danger to others. I don’t believe this. She hates you because once, a year or two ago, she imagined that our daughter ran into her bedroom to hide from you. Melamori and I could never persuade her that this never happened, although the girl tried very hard. In my view, she tried too hard . . . But never mind. Please, come with me.”

I stood up and followed my host in silence. It took a long time to reach his wife’s quarters. To be honest, my own little palace wasn’t much to boast about in comparison with the Blimms’. From a million miles away you could smell the vulgar scent of luxury available to any nouveau riche in the brand-new carpets that covered the floors of my residence. Here I was stepping on creaky floorboards covered with ancient tapestries. It was not unlikely that they had been woven by the fingers of real elves, in those days of yore before the poor devils succumbed to the temptations of drink.

“In here,” Korva said, stopping by a door encrusted with studs of some glistening substance. “Atissa’s still awake. Try not to distress her with your presence for too long, if you can.”

He turned around and left. His tread had seemed very heavy to me from the very first, and now I noticed that Sir Korva’s soft house slippers left such deep traces in the carpets that he would seem to be made of lead.

I opened the door carefully and entered a huge chamber plunged in semidarkness. In the farthest reaches of the room shone a small sphere of blue gas, casting a light that was too weak to penetrate the other corners.

“Is that you, Korva?” a woman’s voice said nervously. The voice sounded so much like Melamori’s that it made me question my own sanity.

“No,” I said, for some reason in a whisper. “It’s me. Excuse me for visiting you at such a late hour, my lady.”

“Come here,” she commanded. “I can’t see you.”

I went closer and stared in astonishment at a face that was almost an exact replica of Melamori’s. It was somewhat older, a bit fuller. A hardly noticeable crease between the brows and the blurred outline of the lips made Lady Atissa’s face look helpless and vulnerable—feelings our Melamori would never show to the world—but I couldn’t get over the resemblance.

“Ah, you look like a kind guest,” she said hospitably.

This surprised me. After Sir Korva’s dramatic preface, I was prepared for a pillow fight, at the very least. On the way to the chamber I had decided that it wasn’t strictly necessary to tell Lady Atissa who I was. But I was so flustered that I told her anyway.

“I’m Max,” I said. Then I added, “They say you don’t like me very much.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “Sir Max doesn’t look like you at all. I know.”

“And yet—” I began, but Lady Atissa shook her head stubbornly.

“Never mind. If you don’t want to tell me your real name, don’t. It doesn’t matter to me a bit. Do what you came to do. I know you have come to heal me. This morning my caretaker disappeared. That’s a good sign. If he disappeared, it means I don’t need a caretaker anymore, doesn’t it?”

“I have come only to make your acquaintance,” I said in confusion. “I don’t think I am able to—”

Lady Atissa shook her head stubbornly again, as if to say, “Don’t try to wriggle out of it now, friend.”

“Do you see what’s over there?” she asked all of a sudden, pointing into the darkness.

I turned around quickly but saw nothing.

“You’re as blind as all the others,” she said, sighing. “But I see everything. There’s a man standing there. He doesn’t have a face. It’s quite unpleasant. But wait!”

With surprising agility Lady Atissa got down on all fours and crawled to the very edge of her huge bed. She stared fixedly into the darkness, as if she were trying to make out a message written on the far wall, a very important but unintelligible message upon which her whole life depended.

I hesitated. I had never had any dealings with madwomen before —I felt very much out of my element. And the element I found myself in was a complete mystery to me.

Finally Lady Atissa began staring at me relentlessly. “The person without a face says you can do anything you wish to someone. Don’t you wish to help me? Tell me. Why are you trying to fool me?”

“I do want to help you,” I said, sighing.

I knew what Lady Atissa was trying to achieve. She wanted me to strike her down with my Lethal Sphere and then command her to be cured of her madness. It was a good bargain, but I would have preferred to practice on guinea pigs for a couple of years first.

“If you want to, then help,” Lady Atissa urged.

Her likeness to Melamori made my head spin, and it was already hard for me to keep track of who it was that was begging me.

“It’s dangerous,” I mumbled.

“Well, what of it?” she said coldly. “Why did you come here if you weren’t going to do anything?”

Why not? I thought.

I had recently had to undertake so many tasks that were beyond what I considered to be my abilities that I was getting used to the idea that I could. After all, the powers of my Lethal Spheres had sufficed to release the dead Jiffa Savanxa from this World, and very recently I had sent the dying Magician Glenke Taval into the unknown. It seemed that he had decided to make an appearance to Lady Atissa and tell her everything.

I snapped the fingers of my left hand—for the third time in this seemingly endless day. I did it without even thinking that there would be no going back. Goodness gracious, I thought, if only it doesn’t turn out that I’ve killed her! Anything but that.

But thinking about it wouldn’t change anything. The green sphere had already gently stuck Lady Atissa in the chest and then melted.

She didn’t die. She simply shuddered and stared at me with her beautiful gray eyes. Gosh, how much she looked like Melamori!

“What do you want from me?” she said in a quiet voice.

Up until now, the victims of my Lethal Spheres had announced, “I am with you, Master”—every last one of them. But it seemed that Lady Atissa’s aristocratic upbringing would not allow her to resort to such idiotic platitudes.

“You must get well,” I commanded. “You must become completely healthy again, as happy and lighthearted as you were in your youth. And no more delusions. Ever again.”

“Very well,” she said. “I will do as you wish. Anything else?”

“Now you must free yourself from my power.”

“What, may I ask, are you doing in my bedchamber, young man?” Lady Atissa said haughtily, scrambling to wrap herself up in the blanket. “Who are you?”

“I am Sir Max. I have already introduced myself, but you wouldn’t believe me when I told you the first time.”

“Ah, the secret police,” she said with a wry smile. “Still, I don’t understand what you’re doing in my bedchamber. Are you searching for felons and malefactors, or are you simply interested in the color of my nightgown? You could have acquired that information by questioning one of the maids. They have a strong sense of civic responsibility. Too strong, even. Hold on a minute. Has there been a palace coup while I was sleeping? And is the Secret Investigative Force now hunting down everyone connected to the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover? In that case you could simply give orders to my own daughter to arrest me. I am certain that Melamori would derive great satisfaction from it. Her presence in my bedchamber would have been slightly more appropriate than yours.” Lady Atissa rubbed her forehead. “By the way, do you realize that you woke me up? And that it is the middle of the night? Or are such trifling facts unworthy of your attention?”

I laughed out loud from a sense of indescribable relief. It seemed I wasn’t half bad as a psychiatrist. Lady Atissa was behaving not only like an ordinary healthy woman but like an ordinary healthy woman with nerves of steel. How and why I had entered her bedroom had been completely erased from her memory. Nevertheless, she showed not a trace of panic. I doubt that I could have addressed a stranger who had suddenly appeared in my bedroom with such calm sarcasm.

“I do beg your pardon, Lady Atissa,” I said, with a feeling of sudden levity. “I’ll be going now.”

“You’re leaving?” she said. “Frankly, I would have thought that you were here with some purpose, having already forced your way into my bedchamber.”

“You are absolutely right. My purpose was to make sure that you weren’t sleeping with your head to the South. That’s very important. I see now that you don’t. Good night to you.”

“Is it truly dangerous, to sleep with your head to the South?” Lady Atissa said.

“It certainly is. The most dangerous delusions, the ones that waylay sleepers, come from the South.”

It was shameless to lie so brazenly, of course, but it was the first thing that came into my head.

When I had found my way back into the passageway, I glanced around in confusion. Which way did I turn to get back to the living room?

“This way, Sir Max.” Korva Blimm’s voice came to me from somewhere down below. I made my way to him down a narrow spiral staircase.

“Your timing was impeccable. I would definitely have lost my way,” I said.

“My wife just sent me a call and said that the Echo secret police had stormed her bedchamber,” said Korva gloomily. “Is she imagining things again?”

“No,” I said smiling. “I think this time she was joking.”

“Joking? Where did that come from? Atissa hasn’t been able to joke for ages. At least since—”

“I think she’s cured,” I said softly. “And I also think that she doesn’t even remember she was ill. In any case, she has no recollection at all of the first part of my visit. We even had to make each other’s acquaintance twice.”

“Atissa? Cured?” Korva said in disbelief. “Her illness is incurable. Otherwise she would have been well again long ago. Do you think I’ve just been waiting passively for her to get better on her own?”

“No, I don’t think that you have. But I’m quite sure that she is cured now. Go up to her and see for yourself. But first tell me how to get back to the reception hall, or I’ll spend the rest of my life wandering the passageways. A grim prospect.”

“Around that corner you’ll find one more stairway. It leads directly to the living room. Please don’t leave before I return. I don’t understand a thing at this point.”

Following my host’s instructions, I reached the living room without incident. Juffin was sitting there by himself, and he didn’t look at all like he was the most carefree fellow in the Universe. In fact, he even overdid it a little when he knitted his brow.

“Well, how was your romantic encounter?”

“Marvelous. I liked it so much I advised Sir Korva to do the same.”

“What happened up there, anyway?” His impatience was bordering on real annoyance.

“I think I cured her,” I said. “Don’t tell anyone, though. Otherwise there will be a long line of mad people waiting in front of Tekki’s tavern tomorrow. I think she might show me the door after this anyway. And it’s probably the right thing to do.”

“Wait a minute, quit your jabbering. Are you sure you cured her, Max? You aren’t exaggerating?”

“Lady Atissa herself asked me to launch a Lethal Sphere at her,” I said. “I couldn’t refuse. Beautiful women can wrap me around their little fingers. She got wind of this extravagant form of amusement in a conversation with one of her hallucinations. She told me about a ‘man without a face’ that visited her. Ring a bell? Gosh, I don’t understand a thing myself anymore!”

“Your Lethal Sphere?” Juffin said. Then he grinned in approval. “Why not? It would be funny if you really cured her that way. And did the smell of madness go away, too?”

“You know I could never discern it. But Sir Korva has gone up to see her. Send him a call and ask him about the smell.”

“You can be so resourceful sometimes,” Juffin said.

The boss followed my advice and began staring intently into space. Several moments later he raised his eyes to me. Now they showed only merriment.

“Let’s go home, Max. There’s nothing for us to do in the middle of the night in someone else’s home. Especially when the hosts are very busy themselves.”

“But Sir Korva requested that I stay until he returned,” I said.

“Of course he requested that. At that moment he didn’t realize he wouldn’t be able to return to the living room for the next day and night. Use your imagination, Max, and you should be able to figure out why he has better things to do now,” Juffin said. “Let’s go, Mr. Brainiac.”

“So did I really cure her?” I said, getting up reluctantly from the comfortable armchair.

“As if you didn’t know. I’m sure your Lethal Spheres can do far more than that.”

“Well, that’s good,” I said. “I like them both very much. But I can understand Melamori. People like that make better friends than parents. They probably aren’t all that easy to get along with.”

“Right you are,” said Juffin, making himself comfortable in the front seat of the amobiler. “I don’t know about ‘friends,’ but today you’ve made two acquaintances who will be eternally grateful to you. If you want a third, just drive me home. It’s not far from here.”

“Give me directions, though. I’ve never been able to find my way around the Left Bank, especially at night. That would take a miracle.”

“Now turn left,” Juffin said after we drove out through the gates of the Blimm estate. “And don’t go too fast. There are lots of unexpected twists and turns ahead.”

“I’d like to believe that this is not a grim prophecy, just information about the upcoming journey,” I said with a grin. “Speaking of unexpected twists and turns, today is supposed to be my Day of Freedom from Care, remember?”

“Didn’t you get enough rest today?” Juffin said with perfect calm. “We’ve had a great time. All right, don’t pout. Tomorrow you can take the day off.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to pull it off?” I said.

“Why not? Wonders happen even to bores like yourself. By the way, we’re here already, didn’t you notice? Will you survive if I don’t invite you in for a mug of kamra? I’ve had enough of you for one day. I hope the feeling is mutual.”

“I can survive even worse things. I’m very resilient. Besides, my girlfriend makes better kamra than your butler.”

“Well, that’s a matter of taste. Good night, Max.”

I watched as Juffin’s shimmering silver looxi receded into the darkness of the garden. Then I turned toward home. I desperately needed a good dose of ordinary human life: whispering to Tekki in the semidarkness of the already closed tavern, laughing with her about the day’s crazy events, scratching the kitties’ soft furry necks, things like that.

Wonder of wonders, all of this—and nearly a dozen hours of the soundest sleep, to boot—I got. When I woke up just after midday, I allowed myself to loll around as long as I wished, even making some plans for passing a pleasant evening. Tekki was the protagonist of these plans, of course, though the proposed setting for the act changed with frightening speed.

Melifaro’s call reached me not long before sundown. I was just planning to diversify my R&R. Having something to eat, for example.

Where have the girls gone, Max? Do you know what’s going on?

If it had been an ordinary conversation, he would have roared out the question. Silent Speech is not the best means for expressing emotion, but I understood all the same that something was very wrong.

No idea. Why?

No one is at the Furry House. Everyone has disappeared: the girls, your servants, even your dog. To be honest, I am at my wit’s end. The boss went to Xolomi to interrogate some conspirator they’re afraid even to let out of his cell. What lousy timing! So it’s impossible to contact him. Come to the Furry House, all right?

Have you tried to send a call to the girls? Maybe they’ve just run back to their native steppe. After all, I’m a pretty bad husband.

I’ve sent calls to all of them. To Kenlex, her sisters, even the servants. They’re not there. It’s uncanny. It doesn’t feel like they died. It feels like they were never even born. I did find something here, though . . . Hurry over, you should see this for yourself.

I’m on my way.

I ran downstairs at a gallop.

Tekki stared at my contorted features. “Has relaxing tired you out that much?”

“Relaxing is tired of me, not the other way around. Melifaro says that everyone in the Furry House has disappeared. No one answers his calls. I hope it’s just some kind of misunderstanding.”

“What could have happened to them? Why would they just up and leave?” said Tekki.

“I hope I’ll be back today. Or someday, anyway,” I said. “Sinning Magicians, why oh why does this have to happen now? I had such well-laid plans for our evening, and even better ones for the night! It was to be a classic scene—nothing original, mind you, but who needs originality when—”

“I believe you,” Tekki said. “Just try not to forget what you thought up. Sooner or later we’ll put your plan into action.”

“Down to the last detail?”

“Every last one. And then some.”

She waved goodbye, and I disappeared from her life—for a while, anyway.

The pitiful remains of what was once Melifaro were waiting for me in the main hall of the Furry House. The downcast creature was so unlike the force of nature I was familiar with that their similarity seemed shocking rather than reassuring.

“That bad?” I said.

“I’m not sure.” Melifaro did a weak impression of a sad smile. “Maybe you’ll be able to take the situation in hand. You’ll kill a couple dozen villains and a few hundred innocent civilians in one fell swoop. Then it will turn out that everything really is bad, but not that bad. Here, take a look at this, Max.”

Only then did I notice that Melifaro was turning some object over and over in his hands. Peering closer at it, I realized that it was a stuffed toy, a small figure that looked like a little boy in a looxi. On the floor was a neat pile of similar toys. What are they doing here and where did they come from? I wondered.

“What are these things? The promised trophies of war, former property of the hapless Manooks? My subjects brought me a bunch of gifts that I had no time to look at. Anyway, I’ve never seen these before in my life. Or anything like them.”

“Neither have I,” Melifaro said. “But I’ve had some time to think about it. Doesn’t the boy’s looxi remind you of anything?”

“No.”

Just in case, I examined the clothes on the toy, then shook my head with even more certainty.

“Well, naturally, since you hardly ever put in an appearance here. And if you do, you wander around through the bookcases like a sleepwalker or chase after the dog, squealing hysterically.”

Melifaro’s cutting tone testified to his emotional resilience. I could only dream of making such a quick recovery.

“The designs on his looxi exactly replicate the designs on the uniforms of the servants who flooded your palace on the command of our solicitous Majesty Gurig. How many do you have, by the way? Any idea?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do know. Last spring I wrote the king about them. I thanked him for his concern for the welfare of the occupants of the Furry House, and at the end of the letter I delicately suggested that three dozen servants was too many. I assured him that in such a small dwelling there was no purpose in keeping more than a dozen of these useless fellows. In my opinion, two of them would be enough to keep the house clean and to feed my dog. But I lacked the courage to tell His Majesty the honest truth. Since that time, there have been only a dozen servants trying to keep themselves occupied around my house.”

“Well, that’s exactly right. One dozen,” Melifaro said, nodding. “I already searched the house and found exactly twelve of these dolls. By the way, the one I found in the kitchen is wearing a chef’s cap. See for yourself.”

He thrust another rag doll under my nose. Its hands were holding something that resembled a spoon. It was made of the same soft material as the figure itself.

“Do you mean to tell me that my servants have turned into dolls?” I said.

“You got it. Want some more proof? Just don’t faint.”

He pulled a shaggy little dog from the pile of toys.

“Is that all that’s left of Droopy?” I said, horrified, as I took the toy into my hands. “A hole in the heavens above you, I’m afraid you’re right. Look, that’s his collar—just very tiny.”

“Are you sure it’s his collar?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “You see how there’s a stone missing on the clasp? I scraped it off by mistake myself when I was putting it on him for the first time. He kept fidgeting . . . Well, don’t look at me like I’m the Capital’s number-one cannibal. I was just confirming your hypothesis.”

“I just realized how much I hoped I was wrong! I’m afraid the same fate has befallen the girls. That’s why I can’t reach any of them—neither Kenlex, nor her sisters.”

“Have you found anything that . . . that looks like them?”

“No. But I didn’t look very thoroughly. I ran all over the whole house, looking into the bedrooms, the kitchen—everywhere.”

“Shall we go together to look for them?”

“Let’s go,” Melifaro said like a doomed man.

The search plunged me into despondency. I just wasn’t used to dealing with this grief-stricken hypostasis of Melifaro. To be honest, his emotional state distressed me far more than the horrible mystery of the dolls. My own heart winced from his pain, and my thoughts grew confused from his despair. Now I would even have preferred that Melifaro be the same delightfully insensitive brute he seems to be the first time you meet him. Actually, the second, third, fourth, and even the three thousand eight hundred twenty-fifth time, too.

“Where could they have gone?” Melifaro moaned when we had returned to the first floor after three-quarters of an hour of fruitless searching. “Maybe you have some sort of Secret Door around here?”

“Even if there were one, I wouldn’t know. Anyway, why should there be one at all? This is just a former university library, not Rulx Castle. There’s probably not another person in this World who is less familiar with his own house than I am. Still, I’m sure that we haven’t searched the whole place yet. For instance, we haven’t been to the room where my subjects dumped their gifts. I would have noticed the bales, or whatever they are.”

“Of course! What’s wrong with me? There have to be storerooms here,” Melifaro said. “They’re probably near the bathroom and the bathing pools, and we haven’t gone downstairs yet.”

“I know nothing about any storerooms or whatever else is down there,” I said.

“Give me a break! You mean to say you’ve never used the bathroom in your own house?”

“Kings like me don’t engage in such petty activities,” I said, bristling.

“Well, never mind, I do. I’ve been there a number of times, in fact. So I can show you the way. Please don’t be squeamish, your majesty.”

When we had descended to the cellar, we checked the bathroom and the bathing pools, just to make sure. I discovered to my horror that I had exactly two dozen bathing pools. Such an abundance of facilities was even beyond the expectation of Lonli-Lokli himself. That aficionado of all things watery only had eighteen.

“And it is widely believed that I live here. Imagine,” I said with a sigh.

“Max, I’ve found the storeroom,” Melifaro said in a wooden voice. “The girls are here. See for yourself.”

I followed him into the spacious room, illuminated by three gas spheres. Melifaro stood among the fat bales and neat piles of brightly colored woven material. My naive subjects probably thought they had made me the happy owner of the most beautiful carpets in the Unified Kingdom.

“Here they are,” Melifaro said, his voice trembling, as he handed me three small rag dolls. “Your entire harem, Monster.”

I took one of the dolls and examined it carefully.

“I think this one is Xeilax, judging by the bright-red looxi. The poor thing has the same terrible taste as you.”

“You’ve told me that eight hundred thousand times,” Melifaro said. He stroked the head of one of the dolls. “Here’s Kenlex. She was wearing a funny little metal earring. There it is, see? It’s so tiny, but you can still make it out. I kept asking her why she didn’t take it off, and I tried to give her some prettier ones. But she insisted that she couldn’t remove it. She was born with it, and it was a sign of an unusual fate and luck. What nonsense! And this is our Xelvi. See? She keeps smiling, no matter what. Max, do you think we’ll be able to get to the bottom of this madness? I’ve never seen the likes of it.”

“I guess it won’t surprise you if I say I haven’t either,” I said morosely. “I could try to find some alien trace here, of course, but . . . my heart isn’t in the right place for it, buddy. To be honest, ever since we entered this room, I keep thinking that you and I are going to turn into something, too. Let’s get hold of Juffin first. Maybe he has something insightful to say about the matter.”

“Send him a call, will you?” Melifaro said. “If I start recounting the story from the beginning, I’m afraid I might just break down. And what if the boss says they’re doomed to stay that way forever? If you said it, I might survive. You’re always talking nonsense anyway.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out, friend. There’s nothing we can’t do together.”

“I want to believe you so much that maybe I even do,” Melifaro said with a crooked grin.

He clutched at the soft rag dolls so desperately that I feared for his sanity. This really was crazy. Perhaps Lady Atissa’s madness actually was catching. Korva should have listened to the doctors.

Luckily, Juffin had already finished his business at Xolomi—the only place in the entire United Kingdom where it was impossible to receive a call in Silent Speech. I caught him on his way home. I told him somewhat incoherently what had happened. I never knew it was possible for me to tell a story that was so laconic and so garbled at the same time. Luckily, Juffin has a very high IQ, and he has honed his skills in dealing with idiots over many long centuries. He knew just where we had to start.

Gather the dolls together and try to arrange them more comfortably, just as if they were alive, he commanded. Then come over to the House by the Bridge. I think I’ll get there before you do. I’m telling Kimpa to turn around, so consider me there already. That’s it, over and out.

“Over and out,” I said out loud in my own absurd turn of phrase.

Melifaro stared at me.

“The boss advises us to play with dolls,” I said, smiling. “He says it will calm our nerves. And he believes, of course, that they are still alive. In some sense of the word, anyway. So we have to make them as comfortable as possible.”

“Of course,” Melifaro said, nodding. “Hey, you really seem to bring luck. If the boss believes they’re still alive . . . Anyway, that news is better than if he told us to burn all the traces.”

“Let’s take them into the bedroom. And move it, mister. Juffin will be at Headquarters in five minutes. I don’t want him to turn into an old man before we get there.”

To be honest, I was really hoping that nature would answer in kind, and Melifaro would dump a load of garbage on my head, in turn. Nothing doing. He just shuffled along behind me in silence. I couldn’t even get a rise out of him, poor guy.

I went into the hall where we had left the rest of the dolls, gathered them up, and started upstairs to the huge sumptuous room that was considered to be my bedchamber. I had never once slept in these impersonal and forbidding quarters, designed especially for the relaxation of my royal person, and I hoped I’d never have to. Nevertheless, I laid out my poor servants so they could experience the utmost comfort. Some I placed carefully on the pillows, others on the soft carpets; the chef I seated in the armchair. He was an important personage, after all.

Gazing at the fruits of my labors, I realized that I would probably never make a good interior designer. The arrangement of the furnishings and accoutrements attested to a complete lack of taste and common sense. I shrugged and headed for the door. Suddenly, I turned around and went back to pick up the little white dog.

“Do you want to come with me, boy? That’s right. There’s no reason for you to stay here in the company of strangers. And you’re so compact these days.”

I hid the toy carefully in the inner pocket of my Mantle of Death. If anyone had tried to frisk me, the poor fellow would have been in for a shock: the terrible Sir Max is walking around town clutching a toy dog to his chest. There was, however, little chance that anyone was going to try frisking me for the next millennium.

I found Melifaro in the next room. He was tenderly wrapping the remains of my wonderful wives in a warm blanket.

“I hope they’ll be comfortable,” he said.

That was the last straw. I burst out in a wild guffaw. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, trying to stifle my laughter. “It’s just that seeing you this way . . . I just did the same thing, but I couldn’t see myself, of course.”

“Actually, it’s not hard for me to imagine,” Melifaro said, smiling suddenly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Then I noticed that only two dolls’ heads were peeking out from under the blanket. “But where’s Kenlex? Did you bring her along with you?”

“It will make me feel better,” Melifaro murmured. “At least I won’t be overcome with panic when I recall that fires can sometimes break out in empty homes. Also, I’ve still never been able to persuade her to spend the night with me. Now the poor girl doesn’t have a choice.” This time it was Melifaro’s turn to break into hysterical laughter.

“It’s pure pleasure getting to work with you,” I said. “No matter what happens, we just laugh like madmen.”

“We are madmen,” Melifaro said. “That’s the only reason we’re still alive. Let’s go, Max. You’d better hide your dog a little better. His shaggy ear is sticking out from under your armpit like a wilted chrysanthemum. Which don’t even grow in our World.”

“How do you know about them, then?”

“From the movies. Where else?” he said with a deep sigh.

Juffin was already sitting in the office. And he wasn’t alone. Sir Lookfi Pence was perching on the edge of another chair. He looked confused and even somewhat affronted. The fellow had long ago come to take it for granted that his working day ended at sundown, when the buriwoks from the Main Archive preferred to be left alone to pursue their own lives.

“Sinning Magicians, talk about hangdog looks, boys!” Juffin said by way of greeting. “I hope you’ve brought some of these poor dolls with you to show me.”

I drew the small, shaggy Droopy out of the folds of my Mantle of Death and handed him to Juffin.

“Is this what happened to your dog? I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. To be honest, I like him more in this state than the former one. He’s so tiny and quiet—a perfect charm.” Juffin handed me my dog back and smiled in sympathy. “Don’t be angry, Max. It really is a terrible thing, of course. I just had to insult your dignity a bit, to humor Melifaro. He likes that kind of thing, as far as I know.”

“I can’t live without it,” Melifaro said, gloomier than ever.

“Well, I’m glad to have pleased you. Now we’ll proceed upstairs, where we’ll try to talk the clever beaks from the Main Archive into breaking with custom. I hope they’ll see the gravity of the situation. Our Kurush, of course, is a genius, but he doesn’t have any information about the magic rites of the Barren Lands stored in his memory. Whoever would have thought I’d need it one day—and so urgently.”

“Do we really need the information about the magic rites of the Barren Lands?” I said.

“A hole in the heavens above your head, Nightmare! You haven’t understood a thing!” Melifaro was jubilant. “What do you think happened? You said yourself that your trusty vassals brought you some war trophies that you had never laid eyes on. And where did we find the girls?”

“In the storeroom.” It started to dawn on me what he was driving at.

“Exactly. Earlier today, after the girls said goodbye to their countrymen, they went downstairs to examine the gifts. Unlike you, they were very curious about them. They unpacked a few of the bales, and at that moment, as far as I can gather, some horrible mysterious nasty thing happened.”

“You guessed it,” Juffin said. “The rest is piffle. We just have to find out what the nasty thing was. It looks to me like the defeated Manooks decided to wreak their vengeance on the sovereign of their enemies. Poor, poor Sir Max. To think that I inveigled you into this sorry venture, certain that His Majesty Gurig and I were only playing a harmless practical joke on you. Let’s go up the Main Archive, boys.”

“You don’t think the buriwoks will tell us to take a hike till morning?”

“I think they’ll agree to help us. Sir Lookfi thinks they won’t. Now we’ll find out who’s right.”

“If Melamori were here, the matter would definitely end in a bet,” I said with a smile.

“You can bet with me if you have such a burning desire,” Juffin suggested.

“No, that won’t work. I wanted to bet on you, but you would no doubt bet on yourself, too.”

“Perhaps you could submit your request to the buriwoks yourself, sir?” Lookfi said to Juffin. “I feel a little awkward about it, to tell the truth.”

At these words, the poor fellow got inextricably tangled in his looxi. I had to take precautionary measures to prevent him from tumbling down the stairs headfirst.

“Of course I will,” Juffin said to reassure him. “I will even tell him that you were categorically against this break with tradition.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Lookfi said, brightening. “My relations with the buriwoks are founded on mutual respect for one another’s habits, and I would like—”

“As I said, don’t worry about it,” Juffin said, reaching for the door that led to the Main Archive. “Wait here.”

A few minutes later he poked his head out from behind the door. He wore an expression of triumph.

“Come in. I told you our buriwoks are very understanding.”

We greeted the buriwoks far more ceremoniously than we would have greeted even His Majesty Gurig VIII. Lookfi mumbled his excuses. Melifaro and I kept bowing humbly and held our tongues. Juffin waited until it was possible to get down to business.

“Which of the buriwoks keeps information about the customs of the Manooks, Lookfi?” he said finally.

“Tunlipuxi keeps all the information about dwellers in the Barren Lands.”

Lookfi approached one of the buriwoks. How he was able to distinguish between a hundred or so rotund, bright-eyed birds that all looked exactly alike, I’ll never understand.

“Tell us all you know about the Manooks, Tunlipuxi,” said our Master Keeper of Knowledge.

“No, no, not everything,” Juffin said. “Please, not everything. A lecture like that could last until dawn, and that’s something that neither I, nor you, nor our feathered colleagues need. The secret magic of the Manooks—this is what we’re after.”

“Very well,” the buriwok said. “But if you wish to receive information about the secret magic of the Manooks, I’ll have to give you a short historical overview.”

“Tell us whatever you consider to be necessary, my dear friend,” said Juffin tenderly.

When the boss converses with buriwoks, he is unrecognizable. Honeyed words drip from his mouth. The birds seem very pleased with his attentions.

“Unlike the other peoples who make their homes in the Barren Lands, the Manook people are not indigenous dwellers of Xonxona,” the buriwok began. “It is beyond dispute that they are descendants of people from the Uandook continent who once made up the Secret Retinue of King Mynin. Allegedly, they inhabited the Great Red Xmiro Desert. Some sources claim that Mynin selected his Secret Retinue exclusively from dwellers of the enchanted city Cherxavla. Unfortunately, I have no information about Cherxavla. You must consult with Kuvan if you wish to have it.”

“Thank you, Tunlipuxi. I think we can manage without the legend of Cherxavla for now, dear. How did these remarkable people end up in the Barren Lands, though?”

“After King Mynin disappeared, his Secret Retinue fell into disgrace—primarily because they refused to submit to the laws that bound all citizens of the Unified Kingdom. Moreover, they weren’t able to see eye to eye with the retinue of the new king. It would hardly be possible to enumerate all the reasons for their banishment. The fact was, however, that the Manooks and their families were forced to leave Echo, and then even Uguland. They liked the Barren Lands because they could live there according to their own laws. Several thousand years of an isolated existence in the vast steppe turned the Manooks into a fairly ragtag nomadic tribe. My own view is that their impoverished existence was a result of the Manooks living by rules that were far from perfect. I don’t think it would really interest you, however, to hear my personal opinion of these somewhat abject people.”

“Of course we are interested in your opinion,” Juffin said. “We are grateful that you told us. But if I have understood correctly, you explained the origins of the Manooks to us so that we would understand that the roots of their magic go back to the ancient traditions of the continent of Uandook. To be honest, this is not something about which I can boast of having any precise knowledge. In fact, even the current inhabitants of Uandook have only a superficial knowledge of the magic arts of their remote ancestors. And how lucky it is that those few who guard these dangerous secrets don’t turn up on my doorstep every day to wreak havoc. Go on, Tunlipuxi.”

“Keep in mind that from this moment, I will be imparting only unverified information to you,” the bird warned. “It is not my fault that not one of your men of letters has managed to separate true fact from whimsical fabrication. The fact is that the secret magical rites of the Manooks right up to the beginning of our present epoch were connected with certain mythical beasts known as the Mice of the Red Desert, which no one has ever laid eyes on—apart from the Manooks, of course. The legends of the Manooks claim that the mysterious mice arrived from Uandook with their forebears. Furthermore, the Manooks believe that it was the mice who made up the real Secret Retinue of Mynin and their ancestors were only intermediaries between the king and these creatures. The name Doroth figures in all the known legends. According to the Manooks, this was the name of the ruler of the Uandook mice.

“The traditions surrounding the cult of Doroth are rather unseemly. It is rumored that the Manooks fed him with the bodies of children raised for this purpose. In return, Doroth shared his might with their leaders. It is supposed, for example, that Manooks were able to change the climate and even the terrain at will. Some say that the Barren Lands were transformed into an almost infertile desert through the machinations of the Manooks. They wanted their surroundings to resemble, at least in part, the homeland of their ancestors from the Red Xmiro Desert. The Manooks had never been good warriors. Nevertheless, in spite of that, no one had ever succeeded in causing them harm. If the Manooks’ neighbors tried to cause trouble for them, they simply disappeared. There are reports of the sudden disappearance of the Nougva people, about two thousand years ago, and the also fairly large warrior tribes of the Nexrexo and the Shaluvex. This happened only six hundred years before the end of the Code Epoch.”

“But how did my guys manage to beat them if they’re so invincible?”

“I anticipated that you would ask this question before I had time to elucidate the reasons for the Manooks’ defeat in the recent battle,” the buriwok said. “The Manooks lost their superior might much earlier, about three hundred years ago. Legend has it that Doroth, the leader of the Mice of the Red Desert, fell into hibernation. Some of the other mice were eaten by the Manooks, who hoped in this way to acquire their former power; others simply ran away. Without their leader they reverted to ordinary rodents. Until now, the Manooks have made no attempts to awaken Doroth since their fear of his wrath is boundless.”

“I see,” Juffin said, nodding. “One last question, Tunlipuxi. Do you have any information about the events that accompanied the disappearance of the Nougva people? And the others—I forget their names.”

“The Nexrexo and the Shaluvex,” the bird said. “I have no information on this subject. You know it is not customary to burden the Main Archive with unverified information. I think I managed to recall everything I’ve already told you only because there is no verifiable information about the Manooks at all. In such unfortunate cases one is forced to choose between the information that is to a greater or lesser degree reliable.”

“Well, thank you, at least, for that,” Juffin said with a sigh. “In any case, now we won’t be barking up all the wrong trees. Good night, my clever ones. Thank you all. And I would like to apologize once more for disturbing you after sundown.”

“We hold our traditions dear, but not so much as to refuse to share your grief,” the buriwok said with an air of solemnity.

We left the Main Archive feeling despondent. Mice, some Doroth or other, and not a single clue about what to do to revive the rag dolls and restore them to their former existence.

“Go home, Lookfi,” Juffin said. “You’ve already stayed here past the call of duty.”

“I’m terribly sorry that your daughters have experienced such a calamity, Max” Lookfi said. “But don’t despair. Maybe everything will come right in the end.”

He turned around and left, and I stared after him.

“My what?” I said. But it was already too late. Lookfi was gone.

“Yeah, well, that’s Lookfi for you,” said Juffin.

“What are we going to do?” Melifaro said. “Did you understand anything that plumed genius told us, gentlemen?”

“I, for one, understood absolutely everything,” Juffin said. “The fact that the information isn’t useful at this stage in the game is another matter.”

“Maybe there are other more useful informants,” I said. “My subjects have been living among the Manooks for some time. By the way, my general—Barxa Bachoy, that is—called them ‘mouse-eaters.’”

“Perfect,” Juffin said, brightening. “They left not long ago to go back home, didn’t they?”

“Today after lunch. Moreover, they have several cartloads of sweets in tow, so it won’t be hard to catch up with them. I can set out in pursuit this very second.”

“No, I’ll go,” Melifaro said. “And don’t argue. I want to do something. Wanting is one thing, but aside from personal motives, there are practical considerations. When it’s a matter of going off to claim the head of some half-dead Magician, I will gladly hide behind your back. But when it comes to interrogating a few potential witnesses . . . Excuse me, Nightmare, but ‘the dinner’s over,’ as your absurd little rotund friend used to say. You’ll ask them a million questions, get a million answers, half of which you’ll promptly forget and the other half of which you’ll garble so much that they will become useless. Then it will turn out that you didn’t ask about the most important thing, and you’ll have to turn back again.”

“I agree with you one hundred percent,” I said, smiling. “But how do we make those sweet folks listen to you in the first place? Maybe we should go together.”

“That’s an idea. I feel so miserable that even a long trip in your company seems bearable.”

“Out of the question,” Juffin piped up suddenly. “I’m sorry, boys, but there won’t be any joint outing followed by a picnic. You go, Melifaro. Max has a few things to do here in Echo. Besides, his rank won’t permit him to go chasing after his subjects down country roads. The nomads will be shocked by such extravagant behavior on the part of a crowned personage. We don’t need to invent extra problems for ourselves; we’ve got plenty of already existing ones as it is. You just write them a note, Max. Your general knows how to read, I take it?”

“He does. I’ll jot something down for him right now. But let’s order something from the Glutton, all right? It has been my habit to indulge in literary pursuits while digesting ever since my days as a budding poet, writing dreary hogwash—preferably about death; if worse came to worst, about unrequited love. But invariably in the kitchen, stuffing my face with a piece of mom’s homemade pie.”

“A marvelous tradition,” Juffin said. “What would be a good substitute for your mother’s pie? Have you already decided?”

Then I spent half an hour writing a missive to Barxa Bachoy. It turned out to be rather hard. Much harder than writing poems about death and love. I realized that my field commander was not the sort to read for pleasure, so I tried to be concise and clear. Finally I finished a letter that met with even Juffin’s approval. Of course, the boss is too magnanimous to be a successful literary critic. A former hired killer without a solid educational background in the humanities—Juffin would never fit the bill.

“I hope I’ll be able to chase them down before sunrise,” said Melifaro, taking the letter from me. “I’ll send you a call as soon as I find out something. Max, how should I introduce myself to your subjects so that they tremble in holy terror?”

“Tell them you’re my favorite slave.” I still hoped to distract him from his dark brooding thoughts. If I couldn’t make him laugh, at least I might infuriate him. But it was a no-go.

“I’d tell them I was your favorite chamber pot if I thought it would convince that ragtag bunch to help us,” he said with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll think of something myself. Good night, gentlemen.”

He got up from the chair and made a beeline out of the office. I watched him go, then turned to Juffin.

“Things are looking pretty grim,” the boss said, summing up all that had happened. “Magicians be praised that you didn’t start digging through those sinning war trophies yourself. Right now I just can’t imagine what we can do to help those poor girls. Not to mention all the others.”

“I’m sure we can do something.” I was surprised at my own confidence. “I’m not sure what, but . . . In any case, I sense an alien presence in the Furry House. I’m absolutely certain that someone else was there. Especially in the cellar. I didn’t like the feeling a bit. I didn’t even try to follow the trace of this stranger. I’m ashamed to say it, but I was really afraid that Melifaro and I could also be turned into dolls at any moment. But you and I should go there together and look for the trace now.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Juffin said firmly. “For the time being, anyway. If you sensed that you could also turn into toys, then there was a real danger of that. You’re not given to vain imaginings, but you sense real danger with your backside, and it tells you to move it. So we won’t hurry things. It’s better to lose time than to lose our lives. I’ll go there on the way home, but I’ll go alone. Maybe I’ll pick up some clues, maybe I won’t, but I don’t plan to step on anyone’s trace, either. At least not before we get some concrete news from Melifaro. Then we’ll see. Kofa will be coming in soon. You go on home. And don’t try to play the hero on your own, okay?”

“Of course, I’m happy to go home,” I said, surprised. “But you told Melifaro that you’d find something for me to do here?”

“Maybe I will,” Juffin said. “Any second now some unhappy soul could run in here wailing that his whole household had been turned into these sinning toys. But for now I want you to just spend a pleasant evening at home. It might be a long time before you get another chance. If there is the slightest possibility that we can unravel this dirty mess, you’ll be the one who has to take action.”

“Is that because they were my subjects who brought the gifts that started it all?”

“Of course not,” the boss said, laughing. “According to that logic, Gurig and I would have to take the responsibility. We were the ones who dragged you into this mess.”

“But why, then?”

Juffin shrugged. He mused for a few seconds, then waved his hand dismissively.

“I don’t know myself. Let’s just say I shared my premonition with you.”

“Okay. In any case, I really like your suggestion.”

“You see how things fall into place? Now scram. I can’t stand looking at you. Nor can anyone else, you bad, evil man. With the exception of one marvelous lady—so go to her.”

“Gladly. And you send me a call after you stop by the Furry House, all right? I won’t be sleeping for a long time yet.”

“I can imagine,” he said, grinning. “Fine, I’ll tell you everything as it unfolds, if there’s anything to tell at all.”

Everything seemed to be decided, but for some reason I still couldn’t force myself to turn around and leave.

“Listen, if even you have no clue about what’s going on, shouldn’t we ask Maba Kalox?” I said.

“All in good time. If I go to Maba right now, he’ll say he’s glad to see me, treat me to some revolting otherworldly drink, and send me home, blessing me with friendly advice so as not to vex his valuable person with trifles. You know him. But to be honest, I doubt that this time even Maba could help. If we’re dealing with people whose ancestors made up the Secret Retinue of King Mynin . . .”

“How about Lady Sotofa?”

“I don’t think so. But we can try if it comes to that. We’ll stop at nothing, believe me. Go home already. I need to be alone for a bit. It’s my only chance to think in peace. And not only to think.”

“I’m sorry. Here I am, dawdling and giving you idiotic advice. Naturally, it would have occurred to you to consult Maba without my prompting.”

“I suppose it would have occurred to me. I’ve got a bit of ingenuity up my sleeve,” Juffin said, laughing. “How do you think I managed to survive the last seven hundred years before such an ingenious adviser as yourself came along?”

The boss’s good mood (insofar as it could be considered good under the circumstances) helped to boost my own. At least I didn’t have to hide my misery from Tekki when I dove into the cozy semidarkness of the Armstrong & Ella. She saw through me right away, though.

“That bad, huh?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. Yeah, it’s all pretty darn lousy. I even wanted to hang myself in the bathroom, but I changed my plans for the evening. Where is your mythical assistant?”

“Why mythical? She’s as real as can be. She just stepped out for a while—to the bathroom, if you really must know. Praise be the Magicians you didn’t hang yourself in there. That would have been awkward.”

“I still don’t really believe this woman exists,” I said. “You keep saying you hired her especially so she could work evenings instead of you. But every evening I discover you behind the bar all alone. Are you sure she’s not a figment of your imagination?”

“The poor thing is just afraid of you, like all normal people. I even have to give her extra hardship pay,” Tekki said, laughing. “But she still hides whenever you’re around.”

“Well, let her come out of hiding, then. Juffin gave me strict instructions to enjoy my evening. I couldn’t possibly disobey him. You know how scared I am of him.”

“I know. You just take one look at him and fall into a faint,” Tekki said. “But what does my assistant have to do with anything? Does she have to undress and dance on the table for you? Is that what you have in mind when you say you want to enjoy your evening?”

“Almost. Of course, it’s you I want to undress. Not just yet, but after we have something to eat and I dump all my problems on you. That’s how I envision a good evening. Really banal, isn’t it? Dancing on the table isn’t a prerequisite. And all your assistant has to do is take your place behind the bar. I thought of everything, didn’t I?”

“You did. Believe it or not, that’s just what I want to do. Have something to eat, and then get undressed. I’m really sick of these duds”

The rest of the evening was great. First, we went out to eat at the Three-Horned Moon. I knew that in this wonderful club you could rub elbows with some living literary legend and get excellent food to boot.

It was still a long time before the new moon, so there were no poetry readings that night. Nevertheless, we found ourselves in the midst of a large number of people with pensive expressions and shining eyes. The regulars here were already used to seeing me and greeted me amiably, but they didn’t force their conversation on me. And what was even more agreeable, they didn’t stare at Tekki and me like we were aliens from outer space. They were concerned with their own affairs.

In a word, the Three-Horned Moon was the perfect place for talking about the events that had befallen us. In this setting my story recalled a desperate attempt by a young fabulist to impress his girlfriend with the subject of his forthcoming fantasy novel in verse. In fact, if I had gone on a bit longer, I might have stopped believing my own true story.

“Things are looking pretty grim,” she said, echoing Juffin, and summing up my long saga.

“Well, I guess it’s not really dinner-table conversation,” I said. “You know, on top of everything else, I feel guilty. I could have taken precautions—looked into the sinning bales, sensed something evil, and told the girls not to unpack them. But I just let everything take its own course. And, of course, I’ll have to be the one to get us out of this mess now. So it’s a good thing that you and I have this evening together.”

“Well, it’s not all that bad,” Tekki said softly. “You’re going to be all right, Max. You can deal with it. Others, maybe not. But you? Sure you can. Trust me.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said smiling. “How do you know it for sure?”

“This tells me,” she said, tapping her breastbone with her delicate fingers. “The most reliable source of information.”

Juffin’s call reached me when we were on our way home.

I walked around your residence for two whole hours. You were right not to try to step on anyone’s trace. If you had found the trace of the beast that had the run of the place, I would also have acquired a favorite toy to clutch to my chest.

You mean Melifaro and I might have turned into those dratted dolls, too? I said. The idea horrified me. So it wasn’t a fit of paranoia but an ordinary human presentiment?

Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say “normal” and “human,” but your presentiment was right on the mark. In fact, the happy prospect of continuing your existence as a cute stuffed toy would have been your privilege alone. Melifaro is not a Master of Pursuit, and he never will be. To become cute and fluffy, he’d need to have his own personal meeting with the unknown beast.

And how will we search for this creature if we can’t step on its trace?

Don’t worry about that. Its trace is so potent that I can smell it. It resembles somewhat the everyday smell of madness, with the smell of a wild animal thrown in. I’m about to follow the path of our unknown friend right now. So try not to sleep too soundly. I might need your help at any moment.

Maybe I should just come and join you right now?

No. There’s no need. I’m not sure you’re indispensable to me just yet. I’m not sure of anything right now. Besides, I don’t want your girlfriend to scratch my eyes out. This is not a good time to run afoul of such a formidable lady. When we try to get to the bottom of those souvenirs from your Manook friends, it will be a different story.

I’ll pass it on to her. Happy hunting.

Thanks. Very apt wish indeed.

About two hours later, when I didn’t really feel much like sleeping yet but already foresaw the possibility in the immediate future, the boss sent me another call.

Come to Rulx Castle. Hurry like there’s no tomorrow. I need your Lethal Spheres. Mine don’t cut it. The Palace Guard has been warned. They’ll meet you and lead you to me.

I’m on my way.

I threw off the blanket like the bed was on fire.

“Max, even if the World is collapsing, it doesn’t mean you have to wear my skaba, and definitely not inside out,” Tekki said matter-of-factly.

“You’re right. You could help me, though. I’m all tangled up in these sinning rags.”

It took me just a few minutes to get from the New City to the gates of Rulx Castle. A remarkable tempo—yet it also felt like I had wasted an eternity getting there.

A healthy, pink-cheeked giant in a patterned looxi bowed to me in silence and gestured to me to follow him. The Palace Guards are discouraged from entering into conversation with guests except out of dire necessity. For this reason I didn’t ask him what the matter was, whether the king was safe, how loud Juffin Hully was cursing, and which choice expletives he was throwing about. Knowing the boss as I did, I could get a pretty good idea about what was going on if I knew the approximate number of vampires under the blanket he was urging on his opponent.

The fact that they did not send a palanquin after me further attested to the seriousness of the situation. I had to desecrate the shiny surfaces of the floors of the meandering hallways of Rulx with my boots. Needless to say, it saved me a great deal of time.

I found Juffin in an enormous, brightly illuminated hall. All manner of odd and ornate objects hung on the walls. My imagination prompted me to think that they were ancient sorcerer’s weapons, formal portraits of the kings of the Old Dynasty executed in the abstract mode, or some sort of elfin spinning wheels from the Early Binge period.

“You were fast,” the boss said sadly, “but still not fast enough. The beast got away.”

“Got away? From you?” I said, astonished. “Is that even possible?”

“It happens,” Juffin said. “I have to admit that I got off easy. You and Melifaro almost had the chance to add me your collection of stuffed toys. I still can’t get over it. A rotten, good-for-nothing little mouse, but what power! I’m not surprised that Rulx Castle let him in, though it’s usually very difficult for creatures with evil designs to enter here.”

“So it was a mouse?” I said in disbelief.

“A mouse it was. Can you imagine? Hefty and rather ugly, with a huge head. Quite a creature. It only had a few tricks at its disposal—but what tricks they were! I couldn’t counter them in any way. It would be easier to destroy the World and then create a new one without mice of any kind—whether ordinary or mighty.”

“But where could this mouse have run off to? It’s probably wreaking havoc here somewhere!”

“No, no, that’s very unlikely. Not now, anyway. The mouse hid on the Dark Side. And that’s the most remarkable thing. Rulx Castle is a special place, you see. It’s almost impossible to pass over to the Dark Side from here. I wasn’t able to follow the creature there, in any case. You probably could, though. King Mynin, our one and only Origin, built Rulx Castle exclusively with his personal comfort in mind. He could leave here at any time he wanted, and even go over to the Dark Side. If one Origin could manage it, another one certainly could, too.”

“Time to get down to work, huh?” I said. “To go into the unknown, perform a few inexplicable novelties, and try not to soil my britches?”

“You hit the nail on the head, my boy. I’m glad you have such a good grasp of your duties. But this doesn’t mean you should rush off in hot pursuit of that mouse. Haste is not the wisest course of action. I sped over here like lightning, and now we’ve got a very big problem on our hands, which could have been avoided. We should first wait for news from Melifaro and listen carefully to everything he has to tell us. Then you and I should think long and hard about it. And have a few requisite dreams. That’s the main thing now.”

“Dreams, you say? Sounds tempting. But why do you think this mouse broke into Rulx? To cast a spell on the king?”

“No, I don’t think so. Most likely he was looking for you. You see, his outstanding might doesn’t prevent this creature from thinking in a very primitive way. I suppose it decided to look for the king in the biggest palace. Our little animal doesn’t seem to have known about the existence of His Majesty Gurig. This powerful little wretch behaves and thinks like the most unenlightened nomad.”

“Has anyone turned into a doll in Rulx?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Since I ordered the castle to be searched, they’ve found forty-six dolls, most of them servants, plus several sentries and five dignitaries. It’s pure luck that Gurig himself set out in the morning to inspect his summer residence and was so pleased with what he found that he decided to stay there until the end of the summer. Most of his retinue left to go there immediately after lunch. If the king’s caprice had not been so timely, there certainly would have been far more victims. Let’s get out of here, Max.”

“But what if the mouse returns from the Dark Side and wants to continue his hunt?”

“That would be even better. There are no windows or chinks to the outside here, and I already cast a spell on all the doors except the one you entered from. I’ll take care of that now. Not a single living creature has ever been known to use a door I whispered a few tender words to at the right time. Besides, I don’t think the mouse will be returning any time soon. I gave it a pretty good scare.”

“I can imagine,” I said, turning toward the only remaining exit.

It didn’t take long for Juffin to cast a spell on the door. He caught up with me in the courtyard and clapped a hot, heavy hand on my shoulder. It occurred to me that his hand would make a good space heater in wintertime.

“We’ll have to spend the night in the House by the Bridge, Sir Max, so say goodbye to your favorite blanket for tonight. I’m truly sorry, but for the kinds of dreams that are in store for you and me, even my bedroom won’t work.”

“Sounds like we’re in it up to our waists, if not higher.”

“Not unlikely. I don’t know myself just yet,” Juffin said. “I think this darn mouse really was the leader of Mynin’s Secret Retinue at one time, though. I think we have been graced by the presence of that creature of legend—what was his name again?”

“Doroth.”

“That’s right. He came with the sole purpose of telling our buriwoks that the information about the secret rituals of the Manooks they keep in the Main Archive can be filed under ‘Verified.’ This would explain everything: the unearthly might of the mouse, whose roots go back to the ancient mysteries of the continent of Uandook, and even his flight to the Dark Side of Rulx Castle. No doubt Doroth had made that journey many times before when he accompanied Mynin as leader of his retinue. Our legendary king loved to surround himself with dangerous toys. All of you Origins have the craziest quirks.”

“Not true. I don’t know about your King Mynin, but I certainly don’t have any crazy quirks. A bit of crazy foolhardiness here and there—I won’t deny that, of course.”

“Is that really what you think? Well, thank you very much. You’re quite amusing!” Juffin laughed so loud that a few leaves fell off the trees.

“Did I say something funny? Well, at least I can do something useful.”

Once we crossed the threshold of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order, my mood improved, simply out of habit.

“It will be pleasant in my office now. Too pleasant for our purposes,” Juffin said. “Kofa will be there, and the table will be groaning under the weight of good things to eat. We need to speak in a more subdued setting. I don’t want you stuffing your face with junk and agreeing placidly to everything I say. Right now I need your undivided attention.”

“We should go to Sir Shurf’s office, then,” I said. “Its walls are so used to the gloomy face of its occupant that I’ll feel obliged to satisfy their expectations with my own glum countenance. Furthermore, there’s only one chair there, which you will sit in. It’s unlikely that I’ll be able to nod complacently when I’m sitting on a hard floor.”

“Well, you can always sit on the windowsill. But I must say I like the idea.”

It was dark in Lonli-Lokli’s office. Juffin and I agreed that it was just what we needed. Just as I had predicted, Juffin sat down in the only chair: hard and uncomfortable, as Shurf liked it. After a moment’s hesitation, I plumped down on the desk. Sacrilege!

“Just don’t tell Shurf I sat here,” I said. “He tried to kill me once. I don’t want it to become a habit.”

“Don’t be silly,” Juffin said absentmindedly. “Sir Shurf himself sits on it from time to time. He says that in certain cases it stimulates his thinking. I can’t imagine how, but I’m sure he knows best.”

“So what kinds of mysteries are you planning to unleash on me?” I said.

Juffin was silent, drumming his fingers on the tabletop—annoying at first, yet soon it started to have a calming effect on me. Then I realized that the boss was tapping out this jagged rhythm to help me concentrate.

“That’s more like it,” he said after a few minutes. “Now I think I will lay a few mysteries on you—some terrible, some not so. Here’s the first one. Look.”

Juffin went over to the open window and raised his right hand. His palm began to glow with a warm light. Then he made a smooth circular motion with his hand. I didn’t dare blink, and yet I missed the moment when the warm orange glow began to fade. A few seconds later I saw that Juffin’s hand was now wearing a fedora. It was a completely ordinary gray fedora—the kind that no one here wore except for His Majesty King Gurig VIII. It was, in fact, considered to be his crown.

“Do you recognize it? King Mynin’s Hat. You gave it to me yourself, remember?”

“I do. But this hat was given to me by someone named Ron. I don’t understand how it could be the hat of your King Mynin, who lived Magicians know how many thousands of years ago.”

“Don’t exaggerate. It’s only three thousand years since Mynin disappeared. There’s no two ways about it, though—it’s his hat. But let me get down to business already.”

“Translation: Shut up.”

“Precisely. Take the hat. Just take it—don’t try to put it on your head yet. Now listen carefully.”

I nodded. I began feeling extremely uncomfortable, as though at any minute the boss might turn to me, smiling graciously, and say, “You know, actually, we eat people like you here. That’s why I invited you to come live with us a while. How about I go ahead and eat you right now, before Lady Tekki beats me to it? I’m sure her mouth has been watering for ages.”

I shook my head to rid it of these uncanny thoughts and looked at Juffin in confusion. I had known for a long time that he was privy to all the follies that went on in my poor head. This time it was very awkward.

“You don’t have to look so guilty, Max,” Juffin said. He was very serious. “It’s a good thing that these fears visit you. At any given time, the most outlandish fancy could become the only reality at your disposal, and you must take such a possibility into account, along with many others that are far worse. You must always be aware of them and still love this wonderful World and us—the mysterious strangers who surround you. Love, no matter what.”

I nodded again. I seemed to have temporarily lost the gift of speech, but I knew very well what Juffin meant. I also realized that I truly was able to “love, no matter what.” I was still a surprise to myself sometimes.

“Good,” Juffin said, smiling. “The lyrical digression is over. I see you’re ready for more.”

I could only nod. Magicians be praised, this time that exercise of the neck muscles did not give rise to anomalous cognitive phenomena in my head. Apparently, I was now really ready to listen.

“As you have already understood, we’re in big trouble. Not so much you and I as your girls—and all the others who had the misfortune to be in the path of that dratted mouse, too, of course. Since we are dealing with a creature that in its time was drafted into the service of King Mynin, we stand some chance of getting help from Mynin himself. Unlike ordinary people, the Origins bear responsibility for their actions regardless of whether they are alive or not.”

I raised my brows. Juffin shook his head, as if to say, “Slow down, you’ll understand it all soon enough.”

“There’s a trick known—or, rather, unknown by almost everyone these days—as Mynin’s Dream. It’s the ability to consciously and intentionally summon up in your dreams a certain dimension in which it is possible to meet up with the Shadow of any human being—whether living, dead, or lost in another Universe. That’s where I found your Shadow, by the way, when you urgently needed to acquire a new heart. It is thought that one must enter Mynin’s Dream from underground. The deeper you go before you go to sleep, the better. But on that evening, I managed to set out to meet your Shadow directly from Tekki’s room on the second floor, proving again that anything is possible when you’re up against the wall. We’re not going to do any tests today, though. There’s no need to. We have at our disposal any number of excellent dungeons. It’s funny. Long ago King Mynin discovered in some old manuscripts some allusions to a forgotten path used by the ancient sorcerers of Xonxona. He was the first to try it out and to leave a record of the results. Now you and I are going to disturb his own Shadow. I’ll bet it will turn out that we are going to be the first to try this, in turn.”

“How can that be?” I was so surprised I found my tongue again. “Do you mean to say that this idea never occurred to a single one of your crazy Magicians?”

“Well, I can’t be absolutely sure, but I doubt it. King Mynin’s Shadow is a mystery that protects itself. Few people nowadays even suspect the existence of Shadows. Among the initiated, it is customary to consider a possible encounter with Mynin’s Shadow to be a less than pleasant prospect in the life of a wonder hunter. I personally think it’s pure superstition, but I must warn you that this time I’m not even sure myself what will come out of our undertaking. I would gladly set out to meet him alone, but I’m certain that Mynin’s Shadow would sooner agree to meet with you than with me. You and he will find a common language much more easily.”

“Because I’m an Origin, too?” I said, my voice dropping.

“Precisely,” Juffin said. “Also, because one of your hearts belongs to your Shadow—another reason for mutual understanding. Usually I skip the explanations before dragging people into these kinds of undertakings and rely on fortune instead. But I need your consent. Even more than your consent. You must want to see Mynin’s Dream; otherwise it won’t work. If you end up there not on your own volition but simply to keep me company, you won’t be able to act independently. And chances are you’ll need to.”

“Well, you’re my main supplier of first-class adventure, and you know it doesn’t take long to convince me,” I said. “I mean, right this second I want to turn around and go home before it’s too late, but I’m too intrigued. I won’t be able to rest until I see this Mynin’s Dream with my own eyes. Besides, until today I didn’t dare hope that I’d ever have the chance to meet this legendary king. How can I pass it up?”

“Not Mynin himself, only his Shadow,” Juffin said.

“Doesn’t it come down to the same thing?”

The boss shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘coming down to the same thing,’ but the Shadow is strikingly different from its source. The odd thing is that they also consider us to be their Shadows. To be honest, it’s not clear which of us is right.”

“Okay, so his Shadow, then,” I said. “Anyway, who am I to turn down a mystery?”

“Never a truer word spoken,” Juffin said. “All the better. Wait a moment, I’ll be right back.”

He left the office, and I stared at the orange mist surrounding the streetlights outside the window. I didn’t want to contemplate the boss’s words, nor did I want to think about the symptoms of my own madness, which for some time had been whispering to me that for the sake of some promised mysteries it was worth even putting your own head in a noose. Why wrack your brains over some nonsense when you could look out the window at the myriad paving stones on the Street of Copper Pots? You could also raise your eyes and see the greenish saucer of a waning moon in an inky sky, the glow above the city, and two pale stars through a rent in the clouds. One needed to remember what this marvelous and still unknown World looked like. There was no guarantee it would be possible to return to it, and no guarantee that what returned would be me.

“We’re off, Max. Don’t forget the hat.”

Juffin came in so quietly that I first took his words to be my own thoughts—sudden and so very clear they seemed almost palpable. I turned around and saw a bright silhouette in the doorway. The boss looked so much like a phantom that I thought, What if it turns out that Sir Juffin Hully, the Venerable Head of the Secret Investigative Force, is my personal delusion? That would be a showstopper.

We made our way downward for a long time. The underground levels of the Headquarters of the Ministry of Perfect Public Order seemed to go on forever. It’s completely beyond me how for three years I could have thought there was nothing down there but dreary bathrooms.

Finally our long descent segued into a brief sprint through a dark passageway, at the end of which Juffin fumbled around with a tiny door.

“Crawl in, Max,” he said after the door had opened with a long protesting creak. “Technically, this room belongs to the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover, as do all the dungeons under the Xuron. A half-hour walk through the corridor would take us directly into the reception hall of Magician Nuflin himself. Long ago, however, I bargained for the right to use a large part of these underground spaces, which are extremely useful for practicing magic in your spare time, as we are going to do now. I’m almost certain that Nuflin made this door small on purpose before handing the room over to us, just so I’d have to kowtow to him. A little jest.”

“Do you really think he’d be such a scoundrel?” I said, laughing.

“Oh, I don’t just think so. I know it.”

Juffin locked the door behind us, and I looked around. The room was extremely tiny. No more than sixty square feet. Here in Echo, where the smallest rooms are about the size of a school gym, this room would be too small even for a closet.

“You’re not claustrophobic, are you?” said Juffin. “Some strong people start feeling unwell in here, and it isn’t surprising. Yet this little room is the perfect place for entering Mynin’s Dream.”

“Not to worry,” I said. “If I start feeling sick, it won’t be from the dimensions of the room.”

“Good, then. You see the pile of blankets in the corner? Take as many as you need, and try to get comfortable.”

“Gladly,” I said, starting to dig through a mound of thick fur pelts. “I have no idea what kind of sleep you’re preparing me for, but it’s getting harder and harder for me to stay awake.”

“Now take off your turban,” Juffin commanded, “and put on the hat. A person who wants to enter Mynin’s Dream must have on him an object belonging to the one whose Shadow he intends to seek.”

“And you’ve brought the Sword, right? Oh, I’ll bet you have. That tipsy elf’s timing couldn’t have been better.”

“Elves always have an impeccable timing. That’s just the way they are. Even thousands of years on a drinking binge are powerless to change that.”

I managed to fashion a perfect little nest from the blankets. Then I lay down, curled up in a little ball, and realized that I liked burrowing like this very much. A little room with a low ceiling, fresh air—I had no idea how the scent reached this underground space, but it smelled like a park after rain here. All of this filled me with a sense of peace and well-being.

Juffin sat down on the ground, his back resting against the wall. I could see the pallid gleam of the Sword resting on his knees. I didn’t know when the boss had found time to clean it off and polish it, but the formerly rusty lump of iron had turned into a splendid specimen of ancient weaponry, forged from a light-greenish metal.

“Am I supposed to do something now?” I said, donning the hat that had once belonged to Ron, the guy I had run into in a New York café.

“No. Just close your eyes and let the slumber wash over you. Don’t worry, it will all happen of its own accord.”

I closed my eyes. The dream pounced on me like a strangler who had been lurking in the shadows of a dark bedroom, waiting for his victim.

At a certain moment it seemed to me that I woke up. I was no longer lying on the heap of soft fur blankets. I was sitting with my legs crossed on the threshold of an enormous dark room, as though expecting the next meeting with the official delegation of my subjects. I stared around the room for a few seconds, trying to make out where exactly I was and what was going on. Little by little I remembered the circumstances that had preceded my awakening.

“Juffin, are you here?” I called out in fright.

Not completely, the boss said in Silent Speech. I’m already in, but you’re still on the threshold. So we’re in different places.

But why— I began, but Juffin didn’t let me finish.

It will be easier for us to talk if you come into the room. Stand up and take a step forward. According to the laws of this place, you must come in yourself, voluntarily. And you’re still not able to make up your mind what you want—to see Mynin’s Dream or just to have a good long sleep. That’s why you’re on the threshold. Come on, then, step inside.

I stood up and took a step forward. I have to admit I was completely unprepared for such strong resistance. Actually, I wasn’t prepared for any problems at all. I thought that in this dream everything would be as easy and simple as it had been in the past—boom, and you’re there. But this was not the case. Far from it.

An invisible wall grew between the dark room and me. I was stuck in a thick substance, like warm jelly. I couldn’t move forward or back. I desperately wanted to call out to Juffin, but I had no access to speech at all—either ordinary or Silent. I thought of the dead insects that show up sometimes in amber. I seemed to be in the same kind of mess.

I wasn’t afraid. What I felt was more like anger—my own helplessness always infuriates me. A part of me lurched forward with such an effort that it seemed my body was a plane on fire and I was trying to escape. Whether with a parachute, or without, was the last thing that mattered.

“Got stuck, huh?” Juffin said. He caught me just before my nose hit the floor. “Don’t worry,” he said. “That happens here. Especially to those who waver. Indecisiveness isn’t a luxury you can afford here. But you entered, that’s the important thing.”

I took a deep breath and looked around. The huge room wasn’t dark, as it had seemed to me on the threshold. It was fairly bright. I couldn’t focus my eyes enough, though, to make out the details of the interior. They looked like melting pools of color, as though I were nearsighted and had forgotten my eyeglasses.

“I can’t see very well,” I said. “Is that normal?”

“Yes, it’s normal,” Juffin said, nodding. “You see me, don’t you?”

“You I can see,” I said, surprised.

“That’s because I don’t belong to this place, just like you. It’s a good sign that you can make out something, at least. When I was here for the first time, I could only see a colored mist in front of my eyes. In time you learn to see here. Now I can see almost as well as I usually do.”

“What kind of room is this?” I said. “Is it just the apartment of one of the Shadows? Or a meeting room for tiresome visitors so they don’t wander through your whole house?”

“I don’t know myself what kind of room this is,” Juffin said. “I’ve seen Mynin’s Dream many times, but each time I ended up in a different place. I think this space is as large as any inhabited World.”

“What do we do now? Will Mynin’s Shadow come here to us? Or do we have to go somewhere to find it?”

“We wait. We have the hat and the sword with us—that should be enough. His Shadow knows that we came to see it. I don’t think it has any reason to avoid us. Also, we don’t have to wait standing up: there’s a couch here.”

With these words, the boss lowered himself onto a bright-blue spot. I bravely took his lead and discovered that I had sat down on something soft and comfortable.

“We have company. We didn’t even have to wait,” Juffin said in a whisper.

Then he put his arm around my shoulders, as if to shield me from invisible misfortune. I almost got scared—and praise be the Magicians it was “almost.” It would have been ridiculous to wake up on a heap of blankets, wailing in terror. I guess we would have had to start all over again.

I strained my eyes to make out the presence that Juffin sensed. An invisible danger is, of course, always more frightening. I stared into the kaleidoscope of colored spots and suddenly perceived at the other end of the room a small human figure wrapped in a long overcoat that resembled our looxis. It approached us at a leisurely pace, moving in a way that seemed coquettish rather than threatening. That was not surprising since I was almost certain that the figure coming toward us was a woman, and I was used to thinking that women were not a source of danger. That was foolish of me, of course. There have been some dangerous creatures even among my girlfriends.

“Mynin’s Shadow is a woman?” I said in a whisper. “How can that be?”

“A woman? Why a woman?” Juffin said. “Well, yes, in some sense you’re right. Mynin’s Shadow is not a man, in any case. Wait a minute, did you really think that a Shadow had a sex and corresponding attachments on the body so there’s no mistaking it? My, my, Sir Max—you’re a piece of work. Even here you make me laugh.”

“Well, I have to earn my royal salary somehow,” I said sighing. “I thought that Shadows of men were also men, and vice versa.”

“I thought you thought that. Congratulations.”

In the meantime, the dim silhouette had come right up to us. I peered into the face of the Shadow. It seemed very ordinary to me. I expected to see something that made more of an impression. Deep inside, I was sure that the legendary King Mynin and, accordingly, his Shadow were bound to have glittering eyes, a noble forehead, a chiseled Roman nose—and so forth and so on.

I discovered nothing of the sort on the face of the Shadow that approached us, which I continued to perceive as a woman. Her countenance showed no clear signs of age, sex, or even character. It was the dispassionate face of a Greek statue, with regular but inexpressive features.

“The hat is on the wrong head, the sword in the wrong hands. Switch,” the Shadow said. She spoke in a high voice that grated on the ear, but I immediately sensed the tremendous power lurking behind that falsetto.

Juffin took the Hat from me and placed the Sword on my knees. I gripped the carved hilt mechanically, and suddenly I felt something I had never before experienced: I knew with absolute certainty, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that everything in my life now was right. At last.

“It is now yours,” the Shadow said. “Return to your friend the money he paid poor Toklian for it.”

I groped around in the pocket of my Mantle of Death, where I actually did find a whole fistful of coins. I counted out eleven crowns and handed them to Juffin. He took the money with perfect calm and put it in his pocket. I laughed in spite of myself.

“Money has always slipped through my fingers, but I never thought I’d be a spendthrift even in a dream.”

Juffin smiled, too. The Shadow waited until we returned to sobriety, then trained her attention on me.

“You are a good boy,” she said, “but you are too alive for an Origin. It is not fitting. Will you come with me?”

I looked at Juffin uncertainly. He shrugged. “It’s up to you. I would accept the invitation if I were you,” he said. Then he added, with a hint of anger in his tone, “To be honest, I’m mortally envious of you.”

“I cannot take you with me, Hunter.” Now the Shadow trained her gaze on Juffin. “But I can let you take another stroll. You love mystery, do you not? That is the only thing you do love, and it will always be thus. I know how it is.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Walk along the left wall of this room,” said the Shadow. “Try to find the door. I think you’ll manage. This will be a nice stroll. You’ll find several secrets, exactly to your liking. You will not find the secret you came here for, however. That one is for your companion only. There are matters that are only for Origins—you know that yourself.”

“I do know,” Juffin said. “I will follow your advice without fail. Thank you.”

“You are welcome. I like giving such gifts. But there are not many who are so willing to accept them.”

The Shadow turned and slowly moved away. I understood that I was to follow her. Parting with Juffin was the last thing on earth I wanted at this moment, but I didn’t seem to have a choice.

I got up from the blue couch and shuddered in horror: I couldn’t take a single step. I was again stuck in the viscous air like an insect in amber. The Shadow didn’t even turn to look at me. Apparently, I was supposed to deal with this problem on my own.

“I told you that indecisiveness is a luxury you can’t indulge in here,” Juffin reminded me. “Vacillating between curiosity and the desire to leave everything as it is may be lethal. Choose one or the other.”

Hell, I already chose, I thought angrily. Sure, I don’t feel like following into the unknown this strange creature who considers me “too alive.” Who doesn’t have a moment of weakness now and then? But I made the choice ages ago when I stuffed my backpack full of sandwiches and set off to find the streetcar stop on Green Street. Although, no, it was much earlier, when I read the story about the green door in a white wall, shed angry tears for the protagonist, and vowed to myself that I’d never pass up my chance. I didn’t pass it up. Here I am. I’m not going to regret it. It was the right choice. The best one I ever made in my long and pointless life.

This incoherent inner monologue worked on me like a powerful incantation. I was suddenly free again, and took one step and then another, without even noticing it. I set out in pursuit of the slowly receding Shadow of King Mynin, who had disappeared three thousand years before. I followed without hesitation and without looking around, clutching in my untrained hand his own Sword.

I caught up with my guide, and we continued side by side.

Several endless minutes later, I finally realized that a great deal of time had passed since we had left the room where Juffin still remained. We were wandering through a deserted space that felt to me more like being outside than inside a room. My perceptions about these things were hardly valid, however, like any attempt to attach familiar notions to incomprehensible experiences.

“Do you know that meeting me is the greatest fortune in your life?” the Shadow asked out of the blue.

I nodded.

“My own experience attests to the fact that Origins are obscenely powerful yet too vulnerable,” the Shadow said in the tone of a university professor. “The one who was called Mynin paid a high price to learn of his own vulnerability. The joy of becoming invulnerable will cost you very little. Only eleven crowns, and a bit more in fear and pain. In truth, very little, believe me.”

“May I know what happened to you . . . to him?” Of course, I needed urgently to distract myself from my panicky thoughts about the promised fear and pain. This seemed to be the only way. Besides, I really was burning with curiosity, so I went on. “More than once I heard that King Mynin disappeared, but the word ‘disappeared’ only means something for those who stay behind. But the one who is said to have ‘disappeared’ in fact undergoes something more concrete. Death, or another life, or even—”

“Consider that with Mynin it was ‘or even.’ In any case, it was neither death nor another life. Perhaps someday you will find the precise answer, perhaps not. Stop here. There is no need to go farther. This place is no worse than the others.”

I stopped and looked around. I was still as helpless as a four-eyes who had sat on his glasses. There were colored spots dancing and swaying all around me.

“It is beautiful here, is it not?” the Shadow said. “You will have ample opportunity to understand this in time. Show me your left hand, Origin.”

I obeyed. Her hands were unexpectedly soft and warm. The Shadow opened my fingers carefully and examined the marks that had appeared on my left palm after the old nomad Fairiba pronounced my unwieldy True Name. I regret to say I didn’t remember it myself.

“This is the most remarkable inscription I have ever witnessed,” the Shadow said. “I know the ancient alphabet of the Xonxona, but I cannot read your True Name. It slips away. All the better for you. Now give me the Sword.”

I was very reluctant to give the Shadow my new toy. It wasn’t that I seriously intended to fight for my life with this ungainly object, but merely touching the Sword gave me a sense of calm and protection.

Still, I held out the Sword to her. Something told me I had to, because . . . Actually, this “something” didn’t go into detail. It was more like, “Do as you’re told and zip it.”

As soon as I let go of the Sword, I felt defenseless and terribly alone. I was terrified because it became clear to me why King Mynin’s Shadow had taken the Sword away.

“Do not be afraid,” the Shadow said softly. “I will not bring you harm. On the contrary. You are too alive. That is why you always want something, and why you are always afraid. Your feelings gush over; their scent attracts death to you like a magnet. Sooner or later death will take you, however many protective amulets and powerful friends you have to guard you from it. Death craves Origins. We are its tastiest delicacies. It always gobbles us whole. People want to believe that nothing ends past the Threshold. This turns out to be true for some of them, but not for Origins. Our death is always the end. This is the price for the power that almost none of us succeeds in using well. You sensed this yourself, did you not?”

I nodded, trembling from unprecedented horror. It was so strong, it felt like physical pain. I had always thought that the myths of life after death were just reassuring lullabies that kept us from falling into despair and madness. I strongly suspected that these promises of life beyond the grave didn’t pertain to me. This knowledge felt like a gnawing pain in my chest, and I could only be thankful that it wasn’t as bad as a toothache, so excruciating you feel like you’re losing your mind.

“Now be calm. Do nothing. Just look at your left hand,” the Shadow commanded. “And fear not. All will be well. It is not possible to die here for real.”

“Only for pretend?” I said, my face twisting into a grin.

Then I stared at the intricate interwoven patterns on my palm. I stared at them while the sword’s greenish steel pierced my breast as though I were a lump of soft butter. I noticed this with curious indifference, like an outside observer and not the protagonist of this scene from a medieval romance. A moment later I had no doubts that the ache in my chest was a normal, human, nearly unbearable pain. I wanted to scream out, but I couldn’t utter a sound. My mouth twitched convulsively, and my face was wet with sweat or tears—or both at once.

“The pain will subside soon,” said the Shadow. “It is a wonder that you are still standing. That is a good sign.”

The pain did lessen to the degree that it became bearable.

“Look what happened to the Sword,” said the Shadow.

I lowered my gaze and saw that the ancient blade had penetrated my breast so deeply that it had nearly disappeared. The sword was melting like ice in the hot sun. As the pain receded, it carried away something else with it as well. Maybe it was that absurd boy I had once been—and not so very long ago.

“Now the Sword will always be with you. This is better for both of you. You need a good protector, and the Sword has long needed a trustworthy refuge. Your chest is just the place. It is far better than a wretched hole in the Shimured Forest. Is the pain gone now?”

“Almost,” I said, nodding. “For a person who was just killed, I feel superb. Just a bit achy, like I sat too long in a draft.”

“A draft? Is that a kind of wind?”

“A close relative, anyway.”

“Yes, they certainly are close. Death is like the wind: an invisible but palpable power that is always ready to knock us off our feet. Perhaps this pain will return to you from time to time, but not for long. It is not too high a price to pay for invulnerability.”

“Do you mean to say I’m immortal now?”

“Not immortal but invulnerable. This means that death will truly get out of your way—for the time being. At some point it will find a way to reach even you. Never mind, you will have the chance to find out how Origins outsmart death. You are still too young yet. I find it hard to believe you are so young.”

“I am,” I said. “Though sometimes I feel I was born a very long time ago. Only my ‘very long time ago’ can’t be measured in hours or days.”

“All Origins belong to eternity, and you will gradually come to understand that,” the Shadow said. “Now let us talk of practical matters. You wish to hunt down my mouse, do you not?”

“It’s not really that I wish to hunt it down, but it looks like I’m going to have to. People I am responsible for have suffered. Can you help me?”

“You do not need my help. I can give you with a piece of advice, however. You can now easily pass over to the Dark Side from Rulx Castle. My Sword is part of you now, and it is the best key for one who intends to set out for the Dark Side and farther, to its Inside-Out. If you wish, you may take with you someone who belongs to the Dark Side. Origins should bear gifts such as this. You will without doubt find Doroth in some secluded nook. He is frightened and hiding. In spite of all his power and his more than ripe old age, Doroth is just a foolish little beast. You must also take with you all those whom he enchanted. Perhaps on the Inside-Out of the Dark Side, you will find a way to bring them back to life. This is their only chance. Only beyond the boundaries of the World can you hope to overmaster the ancient spells of the red heart of the continent of Uandook.”

The Shadow fell silent and stared at me with her cold, gray eyes.

“You look like Pallas Athena,” I said all of a sudden. Then I grew confused and decided to make up for my blundering remark by explaining myself. “In the World where I was born, there was a gray-eyed goddess named Athena. There were people who believed in her, anyway. I saw depictions of her, and you resemble her.”

“No need to explain. While you are here with me, I know everything you know, including all the fairy tales that fascinate you. You speak of the goddess who sometimes helped people, but only those she liked. You have a beautiful legend about an Origin by the name of Ulysses, who for a very long time could not return home. Keep in mind that the reason he couldn’t return was because he did not wish to—the curses of the gods had nothing to do with it. His story is nothing like yours, but it’s still one and the same story. All Origins are wanderers among people because they do not wish to come home. Perhaps we all still remember that home is a terrifying place.”

“You don’t mean the home where I was born, do you?” I said quietly.

“Of course not. The home where you were born, and the home where you count on waking up tonight, and the home where you, presumably, will return on an evening a thousand years hence—these are all just pieces of land, surrounded by walls and covered over to protect them from the sky. Places where you can lie down in your bed and close your eyes briefly at dawn. Nothing more. Do you understand my meaning? Now go. They are waiting for you.”

The Shadow came right up and embraced me, pressing her heavy, cold body against mine. Her touch felt almost unendurable. It was as if we were made of different, incompatible matter. I steeled myself, and then suddenly I was alone.

The ground shifted beneath my feet, and a warm wind blew against my face. It grew stronger and stronger, and I knew I shouldn’t try to resist it. Let it have its way. After all, I had never promised to stand my ground, come what may.

Then I learned what the wind feels when it blows above empty expanses, bending stalks of dry grass down to the earth. I can’t describe these sensations. Human languages do not have words for them; human experience does not encompass such experiences. It was not possible to say, “It was like . . .”—for it was unlike anything else.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Sir Max, alive and kicking,” Juffin said in his most jocular manner.

His voice jerked me out of the somnolent darkness, at the bottom of which my inarticulate but sweet adventures had safely landed me and drawn to a close. I opened my eyes, saw the smiling face of the boss, and closed them again. When Sir Juffin Hully smiles like that, it means all is well. And if all is well, I can safely hit the snooze button.

“I get it,” Juffin said. “You think I’m going to pick you up, put you into your crib, and stick your thumb in your mouth. Well, tough. You’ve got two legs, so move them.”

“Is it necessary?” I said.

“It’s necessary. I’m not planning on carrying you piggyback up all those stairs. If you decide to close your peepers right here, keep in mind that you don’t have much chance of getting a good night’s sleep in this cellar. Unless you want to go back to Mynin’s Dream, of course.”

“Oh, no. I’ve had enough for now.”

I managed to struggle to my feet and take a few uncertain steps. Surprised at this recently reacquired ability, I walked out into the corridor.

By the time we had finished dragging our long-suffering feet up the endless steps of the staircase, I was more or less awake. My condition, however, still prevented me from feeling I was a full-fledged representative of organic life.

“Maybe I can tell you about everything tomorrow?” I said. “If I have to give you a report here and now, it won’t turn out too well.”

“You don’t have to report anything to me,” Juffin said, smiling. “Not today. Not tomorrow.”

“You probably know everything already.”

“I don’t know, but I can guess. Rather, I draw conclusions based on observations. Mynin’s Sword—the bargain of a lifetime, by the way—is missing. Your clothes are stained in blood, and there’s an impressive hole in your looxi. At the same time you don’t look like you’re wounded. From all that I infer that I’d better not stick my long nose into any mysteries of Origins. I’d like to, naturally, but that’s just out of habit. You’d call it a ‘conditional reflex.’”

“I might,” I said. “I’m going home, okay? I’ll get some shut-eye, and then I’ll mop the floor with this Doroth.”

“Of course,” the boss said. “I intend to remind myself what it’s like to sleep in my own bed, too. By the way, it’s already nearly noon.”

“And Melifaro hasn’t shown up yet?” I said, suddenly alarmed.

“I sent him a call while we were climbing the stairs. I had to do something to amuse myself. His conversation with your subjects was in full swing, but I told him to take himself in hand and give up this unearthly pleasure immediately. He’s coming back this evening. I think you should be awake by then.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I said, yawning. “I’m almost sure I could sleep for several days running.”

“Doesn’t matter how sure you are,” the boss said. “If I say you’ll wake up, you will. Any more questions?”

“Nope,” I said with a sigh. “No questions. And no me, either. I’m gone.”