The Stranger

little friend carefully at the head of the bed.

But what else? Was that all? Except maybe the Child of the Crimson Pearl, which was, after all, a royal gift. It couldn’t hurt to have it around. And the third volume of Sir Manga Malifaro’s Encyclopedia of the World, too. I really had grown used to falling asleep with it, like a child with its teddy bear.

I built an elegant barricade of amulets and touched my neck to make sure that the magic rag was still there. Then I lay down in bed with a distinct feeling of despair. I flipped through a book for a while. Sleep crept into my eyes stealthily and quickly, although at first I was sure that today’s experiment might fail due to “technical difficulties.” To tell the truth, I usually get insomnia from fear and stress. But not tonight. I felt as though I’d been pumped full of sleeping pills; and I bet that Freddy Kruger next door had seen to it that his patient had no problems with fitful sleep. I must remember to ask Juffin whether that was true, I thought, falling asleep. Then again, why bother. Wasn’t it obvious?

This time the nightmare wasn’t as horrid. I was conscious of the fact that I was sleeping. I remembered who I was, why I was there, what I was waiting for, and so forth. I didn’t feel Juffin’s presence, but at least I knew who he was subconsciously.

I lay on my dining room table again, in the usual ostentatious serving-dish pose. The curtains, of course, had been parted by some invisible jerk, so I couldn’t escape the lovely view of the ancient palace. My heart tightened in terror, as if an invisible hand was giving me painful intramuscular injections, but for the moment I had the strength to resist. To my great surprise, I even started getting angry. Of course, anger didn’t help me in any way; but then again, I didn’t know what would happen next. In any case, I latched onto this rage, as it seemed to me to be one of the better alternatives to fear.

Some wretch won’t let me get a good night’s sleep in my own house, which I pay good money for, for crying out loud! Some foul, loathsome thing is preventing me from getting any rest! And instead of a suspenseful nightmare, I am being subjected to this moronic boredom, I told myself angrily. I did all I could to get myself worked up. And I ended up getting myself worked up with a vengeance.

Good show, Max! Juffin’s voice in my head interrupted my furious inner monologue. Good show, and it’s working! Now try to be scared again. Your fright is excellent bait. If you don’t show any fear at all, this thing might leave you alone. And we have to lure it out of its foxhole somehow. Be a good boy now, act as if you’re giving up.

It’s easy enough to tell someone to “be scared.” By then I was ready to go on a rampage and smash everything in sight. On the crest of my own righteous anger, I think I was nearing victory over the horrible stupor that had turned me into the most helpless creature in the universe.

One good thing about this kind of situation is that if you really want to be frightened, then all the scary stories in the world of nightmares are at your disposal. I needed only to focus on the dark triangular window in the house across the street, and the pathway of sand leading from it, and all my anger turned to a fear that was almost panic. By way of experiment, and for my own emotional well-being, as well, I tried to get angry again. It worked! I enjoyed being able to change my own mood at will. Not having to choose the lesser of two evils, but rather having both at my command—that was variety for you!

At last I managed to find a balance between fear and anger: to be frightened, but not to the point of losing all other feeling; to be angry, but to remain conscious of my own helplessness.

Then the hand inside the darkness again threw a fistful of sand, then another, and another. The ghostly path between our windows grew longer. An eternity went by, and a second eternity followed. As a third eternity drew to a close, my heart again tried to refuse to take part in the drama, but I was able to negotiate with it. I could have woken up, but I didn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow to see the next episode. If Juffin wanted to get a glimpse of the star in this matinée, I would try to give him the pleasure. I would tolerate as much as I could, and then just a bit more. It was sort of like going to the dentist: the kind of satisfaction you don’t want to drag out for too long.

When the edge of the sandy path neared the table with the heap of fear and anger formerly known as Max lying on it, I actually felt relief. The denouement was near.

Sure enough, a dark silhouette appeared in the window and took the first step along the ghostly pathway. Step by step, he drew nearer to me: a middle-aged man with indistinct facial features and empty, shining eyes.

All of a sudden, I realized I was no longer in control of the situation. Not because the whole situation was too ghastly, and not even because the creature was not (and could not be) human. In theory, I was ready for that. But I could already feel some kind of connection between us, and it was a great deal worse than any fear or spiritual turmoil. I not only felt, but saw, how something started pouring out of my body. It wasn’t blood; it was some kind of invisible substance. All I knew was that my further existence in any form would be impossible without it.

Something started squeezing my throat. I can’t say it was violent, but it was unexpected enough to wake me up. So the “rag,” the merits of which Sir Juffin Hully had talked so much about, worked beautifully. And most important of all, it had worked just in the nick of time! One more second, and I’m not sure there would have been any of me left to wake up.

I swung my legs down off the dining room table, unsurprised by anything anymore. The frame of the open window creaked balefully in the wind. I closed the window and shut the curtains with relief. My body hinted, embarrassed, that it felt like fainting dead away. I shook my fist in reply: just you try!

Good morning, Max! Juffin’s energetic voice was honey to my tormented senses. Good show, boy! Good show! Congratulations on reaching the end of this unpleasant adventure. Now we know everything we need to know, so the finale can’t be too far away. Take a swig of Elixir of Kaxar as though it’s your wedding day, brush off your feathers, and run over to my place. Righto? Over and out.

All right, I answered, and dragged my feet back into the bedroom. Five minutes later, I went down to the bathroom with a hop, skip, and a jump, restored to life by the most medicinal of all drinks in this World.

Juffin’s words about “reaching the end of this unpleasant journey” only now began making sense to me. Did that mean it was over? Could it possibly mean that I would never have to have that terrible nightmare again? Sinning Magicians, what else did a man need to be truly happy!

On my way to work I decided that one thing a man definitely needs is a light breakfast at the Sated Skeleton. With that, I turned off into the warm half-gloom of the pub. Sir Juffin Hully never required his subordinates to go to work on an empty stomach, even in the line of duty.

There were more people than usual at the House by the Bridge. Sir Lonli-Lokli was crouched on the edge of a chair writing in a thick notebook in a pose so uncomfortable that it was painful even to look at him. Sir Melifaro, who had only just returned from a visit to his parents’ estate, leaped out of his office like a genie from a bottle. He crowed that the most famous of illegitimate princes was among us and that he was unspeakably glad to bask in the glow of my fame. I thought that the poor guy had gone nuts until it occurred to me that he was referring to the royal gift that had been given to me three days . . . no, an eternity ago. Nightmares can convince anyone that life is all vanity of vanities and weariness unto death. Shaking my fist at my daytime counterpart, I swore I would “tell Dad,” and went to see Juffin.

I found Lady Melamori in his office, looking much too gloomy for a recently released “prisoner.”

“Glad you could come so quickly, Max. Our business can wait for an hour. It seems that we have some family matters that need taking care of. I think I should call the others in as well.”

“Family matters? What do you mean?” I asked in dismay.

“I’ve been robbed,” Melamori said. “I came home and saw that everything had been turned upside down. All of my jewelry boxes were opened. A hole in the heavens above that thief! I am so upset! When I joined the Secret Investigative Force I was sure that crooks would go three blocks around my house to avoid me.”

“What’s the problem, my lady?” I asked. “Start tracking the scoundrel and the case will be closed before you know it.”

“But there’s not a track to be found!” said Melamori. “It’s as though everything missing simply picked up and left.”

“I’ve always said that living alone is not the life for a lovely little lady!” announced Sir Melifaro as he entered