The Stranger

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s no small thing!”

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

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

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

I shuddered.

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

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

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

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