The Stranger

amobiler—this was the name of the peculiar vehicle—was the maximum of its capacity.)

Kimpa was not alone when he returned: my old friend, denizen of my wondrous dreams, Sir Juffin Hully himself, was enthroned on the soft cushions of this motorized carriage.

Only then did I realize that everything that had happened had, indeed, happened. I rose to greet him, and in the same movement dropped to my knees in the grass, rubbing my eyes, my mouth hanging open in wonder. When my vision returned, I saw two smiling Sir Juffins coming toward me. With an intense effort of will, I merged them into one, pulled myself up on my feet, and even managed to close my jaw. This may have been the most courageous act of my life.

“That’s all right, Max,” Sir Juffin Hully said soothingly. “I’m not quite myself, either, and I have a tad bit more experience in these matters. I’m glad to finally make your acquaintance, body and soul!” After these words he covered his eyes with his left hand and announced solemnly: “I see you as though in a waking dream!” Then he removed his hand from his eyes and winked at me.

“This is how we make someone’s acquaintance, Sir Max. Repeat after me.”

I did as I was told. It turned out that my performance was “not bad for a start,” after which I had to repeat the whole thing about seventeen times. I felt like the dull-witted heir to a throne, for whom they finally must enlist the help of an accomplished mentor in good manners.

Alas, the training in local etiquette didn’t stop there. The fact is that Echo, from time immemorial, has been inhabited by magicians. I suspect that all Echo natives are magicians, to some degree. Luckily, exactly one-hundred fifteen years before my arrival here, the ancient rivalry between the innumerable Orders of Magicians ended in the triumph of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover and King Gurig VII. Since then, citizens of Echo are permitted to indulge in only the simplest kinds of magic, mainly of a medicinal or culinary nature. For instance, magic is used in the preparation of kamra, a substance that serves as the local alternative to tea or coffee, and is intolerably bitter without some magic to ease the effect. A touch of magic is also useful for warding off grease from plates—a groundbreaking achievement, in my opinion!

So I simply can’t describe the sincere gratitude I feel for the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover. Thanks to their scheming intrigues that determined the course of history, I didn’t have to learn, say, the two-hundred thirty-fourth degree of White Magic—which experts consider to be the apex of human capability. I decided that as far as I was concerned, the officially permitted tricks were the limit of my meager abilities. In a sense, I am a virtuoso-invalid, not unlike the legless British flying ace, Douglas Bader. Sir Juffin insists, by the way, that my greatest virtue is that I belong to the world of wizardry, albeit not that I know how to cope with it . . .

On the evening of the first day of my new life, I stood before the mirror in the bedroom assigned to me and studied my reflection. I was wrapped up like a mannequin in the thin folds of the skaba, a long roomy tunic, and the heavy folds of the looxi, an overgarment that resembled a delightful compromise between a long raincoat and a poncho. The extravagant turban, strange as it may seem, looked very becoming on me. Maybe in this guise it was easier to preserve my equilibrium while straining to grasp just what was happening to me, for that guy in the mirror could be just about anybody in the world—except a close acquaintance of mine by the name of Max.

Chuff came up and began yapping and nudging my knee with his nose. You’re big and kind! I suddenly thought, in a voice not my own. Then I realized that the thought was not mine, but his. The intelligent dog became my first teacher of Silent Speech in this World. If I am even mildly adept at White Magic of the Fourth Degree, which includes this kind of communication, I would kindly ask you to direct all compliments toward this remarkable canine.

The days reeled quickly by. I slept away the mornings. Toward evening I got up, dressed, ate, and then hovered around Kimpa with endless questions and observations. Luckily, I was never troubled by any linguistic barriers between myself and the other residents of the Unified Kingdom—why, I don’t know to this day. All I found it necessary to do was master the local pronunciation and take note of a few new idioms, but that was just a matter of time.

My training progressed under the gentle but rigorous supervision of Kimpa, who had been entrusted with the task of making a “true gentleman out of this barbarian, born on the border of the County Vook and the Barren Lands.” Such was the “legend” of my origins for Kimpa and all the others.

It was a very cleverly concocted legend, as I now know: a true masterpiece on the part of Sir Juffin Hully, in the genre of improvised falsification. See, County Vook is the part of the Unified Kingdom most distant from Echo. These Borderlands are sparsely populated plains that gently merge into the endless, inhospitable expanses of the Barren Lands, which are not under the domain of the Unified Kingdom. Almost no one from the capital had ever been there, as there was no point in taking such a trip, one that was not without danger. Those who dwell there —the good half of whom (according to Sir Juffin) were ignorant nomads, and the rest, runaway rebel magicians —don’t lavish their praises on the capital, either.

“However quirky you may seem,” Sir Juffin Hully mused, rocking cozily in his favorite chair, “you won’t have to make any excuses for yourself. Your origins are the best explanation for anything that constitutes a blunder in the eyes of the local snobs. Take it from me: I myself arrived in the capital from Kettari, a small town in the county of Shimara. That was long ago, but they’re still expecting outlandish pranks from me. I sometimes think they feel affronted that I behave with such aplomb.”

“Excellent, Sir Juffin! Then I’ll go ahead and start acting like one right here and now!” With that I did what I had been longing to do—I snatched up a tiny warm tart from my plate, without the aid of the miniature hook that looked more like an instrument of torture from a dentist’s arsenal than silverware. Sir Juffin smiled indulgently.

“You’ll make a first-class barbarian, Max. I don’t doubt it for a minute.”

“That doesn’t bother me in the least,” I said with my mouth full. “You see, Juffin, all my life I’ve been absolutely certain that I’m fine just as I am, and that I’m immune to the consequences of a bad reputation. That is to say, I have too much self-love to trouble myself with the torments of self-doubt and the search for self- affirmation, if you know what I mean.”

“But you’re a true philosopher!”

Sir Juffin Hully seemed to be quite satisfied with me.

Let me return to describing my studies. My passion for the printed word had never been as useful to me as it was during those first days. At night I devoured books by the dozens from Sir Juffin’s library. I learned about my new surroundings, at the same time grasping the idiosyncrasies of the locals and cramming my head full of colorful turns of phrase. Chuff tagged along at my heels and was fully engaged in my schooling for he gave me lessons in Silent Speech. Evenings (the middle of the day, by my personal clock), I reported to Sir Juffin. He kept me company at dinner and unobtrusively monitored all aspects of my progress. An hour or two later, Sir Juffin would disappear into his bedroom and I would move on to the library.

One evening, roughly two weeks after my abrupt arrival in Echo, Sir Juffin announced that I now fully resembled an ordinary person, and thus deserved a reward.

“Today we’re dining in the Glutton, Max! I’ve been looking forward to this moment.”

“Dining where?”

“The Glutton Bunba, the most elegant mangy dive of them all: hot pâtés, the best kamra in Echo, the splendid Madam Zizinda, and not a single sourpuss to be seen at this hour of day.”

“What do you mean, not a single sourpuss?”

“Actually, not a single unpleasant face of any kind—but you know this place better than most Echoers!”

“How’s that?”

“You’ll see. Put on your shoes and let’s go. I’m as hungry as an armless thief.”

And so for the first time I changed from my house slippers into tall moccasins that aspired to look like real boots. I also had a driver’s test—ha! As if that was anything to worry about! Having mastered the rusty heap that