The Stranger's Woes (33 page)

“But do they pose any danger to us?” I said. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in a World War. The dirt of the trenches, the rumble of Babooms, and not a single bathing pool with hot water for miles around would bore me to death.

“Of course not, Max. If anything, it’s we who pose a danger to them. But, you understand, no one wants the sovereigns of Arvarox to lord it over the Kumon Caliphate or, say, Isamon. They don’t stand a chance against Arvarox, so they would send their ambassadors to the Unified Kingdom and drench the king’s robe with their tears. What would happen next is that a couple of dozen highly trained specialists from the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover would be sent to the battlefield. They would give the aggressor an object lesson on what happens to a turkey on the Day of Foreign Gods. There would be a lot of Forbidden Magic, a lot of bloodshed, and a lot of insults hurled back and forth. For this reason, the foreign policy of the Unified Kingdom regarding Arvarox boils down to this: We indulge them, look tenderly into their brave eyes, and strive to grant these eternal teenagers’ every wish. We also make it very clear that the game will last as long as their military crusades, forays, skirmishes, and other such nonsense stay within the bounds of their own continent. If I understand correctly, we also secretly finance their rebels, guerillas, and other overage hoodlums. The Arvaroxian way of life provides a perfect playground for innumerable ‘people’s heroes,’ so their sovereigns are never idle. Arvarox has been in a state of a permanent civil war since time immemorial, and this situation has been to everyone’s satisfaction ever since.”

“Boy, do I hate politics,” I said. “But does anyone ask my opinion?”

“You’re right. No one does,” said Sir Manga. “No one asks mine, either.” He then turned to Melifaro. “Don’t forget to take our guest with you, son.”

“Where is he?” said Melifaro.

“He’s in the guest room. Still sleeping, I believe, judging by how quiet it is in the house.”

Waking up Rulen Bagdasys and persuading him to leave immediately, and not in two years’ time, was no ordinary feat. Melifaro returned to the dining room almost an hour later. He was literally dragging the Isamonian by the scruff of his neck.

“We cannot make a member of a royal family wait forever.” Poor Melifaro wasn’t so much speaking as he was hissing and pointing his finger in my direction. It took me a second or two to remember that it was I who was the “member of a royal family.”

“What’s going on? What the devil is wrong with you! You’ve lost the last remains of your brain, sir! In Isamon the aristocracy never gets up before dusk. And I can’t travel on an empty stomach. Are you out of your mind?” The nasal voice of Rulen Bagdasys filled the room. “You’ve got some half-wit cooks running your kitchen, but I simply must have something to eat right now! Don’t you know that undernourishment leads to baldness?” he shouted in helpless indignation.

Sir Manga sighed, got up from his chair, and walked out onto the veranda. His wife had sneaked out earlier, as soon as she heard the Isamonian’s first nasal utterances coming from the hallway.

“Sir Manga,” I whispered, following him. “I need a definite answer from you. What should we do with him? Should we bring him back to you and Anchifa safe and sound, or should we put him on a ship to Isamon, or—”

“Oh, I don’t know! Do as you please. For all I care, you can eat him. You know, Max, I am under the impression that he does not want to go back to Isamon. I don’t think anyone’s waiting for him back there. Anchifa is also getting tired of this exotic plaything from overseas. A sad story, if you think about it.”

“Maybe not as sad as it seems. It’s up to Anchifa to decide, though,” I said. “Thank you for your hospitality, Sir Manga. I am sorry I couldn’t stay so you could get good and sick of me. I’d love to, but I’ve got work to do.”

“That’s a law of nature, Sir Max. One of its most disagreeable laws, in fact. There is a saying in Tulan that goes, ‘A nice guest always leaves early.’ It’s a great place, Tulan. One of my favorite.”

“What about Isamon?” I said.

“Oh, no, it’s the backwoods,” said Sir Manga. “One of the most boring places I’ve ever been to. The only moderately amusing pastime there is entertaining yourself by watching the multicolored thighs of its inhabitants.”

“Indeed. Their clothing is most peculiar,” I said with a grin, and went back to the dining room.

“Now we really do have to leave,” I said.

I was exaggerating. We had about five hours before dusk, and I could get us back to Headquarters in no more than twenty minutes if I tried. After having slept in the bedroom of Filo Melifaro, though, I was surprisingly energetic. I had to start working off some of this new energy right away, or I would explode.

“Did you hear that?” Melifaro asked the Isamonian, who was practically licking the empty plate in front of him. “Run up and start packing. If you’re not ready in thirty minutes, you’re traveling light.”

“What?” shouted the Isamonian. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

I began to lose hope for a peaceful outcome to our humanitarian mission. I sighed loudly and filled my plate again just to keep myself busy.

About two hours later, Anchifa, still sleepy, came down into the dining room. “I was just planning to go for a stroll, and this silly boy is already running off!” he said.

“If you need company, take Baxba,” said Melifaro, chuckling.

“Thank you kindly,” grumbled Anchifa.

“Better yet, come visit me in Echo,” said Melifaro.

“What am I going to do there? Run around the Quarter of Trysts shouting, ‘Hey, have you seen my brother? A dozen days ago he left for work and hasn’t come back yet’?”

“For your information, running around shouting is not the only form of entertainment in the Quarter of Trysts,” said Melifaro. “But it’s up to you. If you change your mind, you can always count on a mat by my front door.”

“I may change my mind. I just woke up, and I can’t decide. By the way, say hi from me to those goggle-eyed fellows from Arvarox. Ask them what they thought of our latest skirmish by the Joxi Islands. Come to think of it, don’t ask them that. It may provoke a diplomatic crisis.”

Finally, Rulen Bagdasys appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of snow-white dress tights. His boots and jacket had not undergone much of a change, but his head was now crowned with a huge fur hat. It was the middle of the summer, for crying out loud! The fellow looked very satisfied with himself. His huge nose pointed skyward, his eyes sparkled like a gladiator’s, and his lower lip protruded, giving his face a capricious, imperious expression. Apparently, the fur hat was an indispensable feature of the national pride of any Isamonian.

“Aren’t you a bit overdressed?” I said cautiously.

“It is imperative to wear a hat out of doors,” said Rulen Bagdasys, “or your brains will blow away.”

The brothers Melifaro brayed like donkeys. The Isamonian looked down his nose at them, but said nothing.

I sat behind the levers of the amobiler, and Melifaro sat in the seat next to mine. Now
he
was eager to get back to the House by the Bridge. Judging by his expression, the ship from Arvarox promised to be a lot of fun.

Rulen Bagdasys got into the back seat of the amobiler. When I began gradually to pick up speed, he became frantic, started yelling, and even tried to grab the controls.

“Sit still, pal,” I said. “When people grab me I spit venom. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”

“I know,” he said. “I’ve been told. But what kind of morons taught you how to drive? Get a grip on yourself! Let me show you how to drive properly.”

“Should I punch him in the nose?” Melifaro said somberly.

“Go ahead, what are you waiting for?” I said. “Because if he doesn’t quit grabbing me, we’re going to crash.”

“I didn’t know that was how you drove around here,” Rulen Bagdasys was quick to say. “I thought you were supposed to hold the levers with your palms facing outward, and you, sir, are doing it the other way around.”

I burst out laughing from the sheer unexpectedness of it. I thought Rulen Bagdasys was unnerved by our speed, but he was worried about some technical matters.

“You hold the levers the way it feels comfortable to you as a driver,” I said in a conciliatory tone, and increased my speed a little more.

I’m sorry to admit it, but I really wanted to scare Mr. Know-it-all. He wasn’t a bit scared, though. Maybe the guy just didn’t know what the average speed of an amobiler was. A few marvelous minutes later, during which the World around me ceased to exist, we pulled over by Melifaro’s place on the Street of Gloomy Clouds, in the very heart of Echo.

“You just outdid yourself, Max,” said Melifaro wiping the perspiration off his forehead. “This is a new record. Can’t believe we’re still alive.”

“It was pure luck,” I said, grinning.

“I think so, too.”

Melifaro sighed and turned to the Isamonian. “This is it, Rulen. We’re at my place. Get your stuff out of the amobiler.”

Rulen, as it turned out, had lots of baggage. Melifaro was kind enough to help him take his numerous bags into the house. I suspected that they were chock-f of tights of all colors, fur hats, and manuals on how to hold the amobiler controls properly.

“Make yourself at home,” said Melifaro. “Or you can go walk around the block. Do as you wish. Let’s go, Max.”

And we sped off.

“It’s nice to have a highly disciplined driver,” said Melifaro. “Maybe I won’t fire you just yet.”

“I’m going to tell Lonli-Lokli that you’re mean to me. He’ll teach you how to talk to a member of a royal family.”

“Lonli-Lokli? No, please don’t. My father is used to the fact that he has three sons. He counts us from time to time. He would be heartbroken if he came up one short. Wait, don’t miss the turn this time!”

“When have I ever missed a turn?” I said, whizzing right past the Street of Copper Pots just to make my diurnal half happy. The diurnal half was pleased.