left of me. Nothing at all. And then I began shouting—not from pain, but to prove to the whole world that it wasn’t true. I shout, therefore I am. A stupid phrase, but it worked.
“Easy, Max,” Juffin said, his voice full of sympathy and concern, helping me into the nearest armchair. “Unpleasant, I know; but it’s over now.”
Almost immediately I felt better physically, but I couldn’t vouch for my emotional equilibrium.
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing, really. The ordinary dialog between the body of a healer and the body of a patient. Not everyone likes it. You, for example, didn’t. But you have to grow accustomed to these things, and you haven’t yet. Are you ready for some news?”
“Depends,” I answered cautiously. “Is it good? Bad? Or what?”
“Or what. Depends on your sense of humor.”
“Well, that’s never been too much of a problem for me.”
“We’ll put it to the test now. You see, Max, your . . . how can I put it most accurately . . . your physiology has undergone a change.”
“What kind? Have I become a woman? Or do I just never have to go to the bathroom again? What do you mean, Juffin?”
“No, everything is fine below the belt,” Juffin said with a chuckle. “As for the bathroom and other little joys of life—there’s no need to worry.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“Nothing really terrible has happened. But you do have to know, all the same. You’ve become poisonous.”
“Poisonous? Me?” Juffin’s revelation sounded simply absurd. “Do you mean to tell me that if someone eats me he’ll die? Alert the local cannibals, on the double! They may become victims of their own appetites,” I laughed like it was the last laugh of my life.
“No, eating you is no problem. Neither is touching. Someone could even use your silverware or a towel after you with no dire consequences,” said Juffin. “There’s just one danger. If you become angry or scared, your saliva will become poisonous. The most deadly kind of poison, I might add. It kills instantaneously if it so much as touches the skin—of a person, at least. And you will spit this venom at your offender come what may. Let me assure you that self-discipline and training is of no use here. No amount of willpower will change the situation. It’s not a matter of choice. You’ll spit even if you decide not to. The only thing you can do if you wish to avoid the instantaneous destruction of your offender is to spit off to the side somewhere. So look to your character, boy. Don’t let trifles annoy you, or you’ll spit the whole of Echo into oblivion.”
“It’s not all that bad,” I observed uncertainly. “I’m not malicious. If something like this happened to Boboota, humanity really would be in grave danger. Of course, it would be nice to try, at least once. If you don’t watch out, I’ll leave to become Sir Shurf’s assistant.”
“Well, that wouldn’t hurt,” Lonli-Lokli remarked, maintaining his placid, unruffled demeanor. “You know yourself, Max, that I sometimes have more work than I can handle.”
“And what about my personal life, Juffin?” I sighed. “No girl will want to kiss such a monster! Maybe we should keep the news a secret?”
“Explain to the girls that kissing you is completely harmless. As long as you’re not angry, at least,” Juffin shrugged. “As for keeping it secret—I wasn’t intending to call a press conference about it, but you know that —”
“. . . that Echo is full of two-bit clairvoyants,” I finished his thought.
“Precisely.”
“But why did this happen to me, anyway?”
“It’s your fate, boy. When you’re mixed up in magic at high levels, it affects you differently from how it would affect . . . let’s just say ‘normal people.’” Juffin then glanced over at Lonli-Lokli meaningfully.
Sir Shurf is as trustworthy and reliable as a cliff inside a safe inside a Swiss bank, but it was perhaps not worth announcing to him that I was a refugee from another World. Besides, everything was already as clear as day to me.
“You never know beforehand what or how something will affect you,” Juffin added. “Remember what happened when we were at my neighbor’s house?”
“But I was only very briefly a vampire,” I objected plaintively. “After a few hours everything was back to normal.”
“Right. Because my spell was the kind that is only short-term. But the ghost wanted to kill you. That’s why the spell he put on you worked like a charm, so to speak—a very permanent one. What can be more permanent than death?”
“Well, you’ve consoled me. Thanks a million!”
“Deal with it, Max. Don’t think this incident is the last one in your life. Everything is for the best! At Makluk’s house you became a bit wiser. Now you have a useful weapon at your disposal. Who knows what’s next?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
For a few seconds I sincerely tried to feel sorry for myself. Then I shook my head and burst out laughing.
“Maybe I just need to see a wiseman. I’ll come to him and say, ‘Doctor, I have poisonous saliva. What should I do?’ And he’ll say, ‘No problem. A strict diet, a walk before bedtime, and an aspirin for the night. In five hundred years, you’ll be right as rain!’”
“Aspirin? What’s that?” Lonli-Lokli asked.
“Oh, it truly is a magic potion. It’s made from horse dung, and it helps everything!”
“Well, I’ll be! And our scholars write that in the Borderlands sorcery is very backward. It does seem to be the case that reason often falls victim to prejudice.”
Sir Juffin clutched at his head.
“Stop, gentlemen! I can’t laugh anymore. My face will become permanently contorted. A last piece of advice, Max. I suggest you consider yourself to be very lucky. You have plenty of useless and inoffensive habits. It’s about time you acquired some dangerous ones. Your new acquisition might come in very handy in our profession. And if some hysterical lady refuses to kiss you, just spit in her direction and all will be well. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Excellent.” With that, he threw open the door, took a sizable package from the hands of a courier, and tossed it on my lap. “Now try this on.”
I opened the package, and out fell a black looxi embroidered in gold, a black skaba, a turban in the same style, and a pair of marvelous boots. On the boots were stylized heads of toothy dragon-like creatures; the black boot-tops were strewn with tiny golden bells. Of course, I would never wear anything like that in my homeland— but here in Echo, I was stylin’!
“Is this a gift, Juffin?”
“Something like that. But please do try it on.”
“Thanks!” I started pulling on the boots.
“You’re very welcome. Do you like these?”
“I’ll say!” I plunked the black turban on my head. It was decorated with the same tiny gold bells.
“And the looxi?
“Just a second.”
I wrapped myself up in the black and gold garment and looked at myself in the mirror. It turned out that the gold patterned embroidery formed glittering circles on my chest and back, like targets.
“It’s great! Fit for a king.”
“Well, as a matter of fact it is for a king. I’m glad you like it, Sir Max. Now you have to wear it.”
“Gladly. But why do I have to? And it’s a pity to wear such finery on a daily basis.”
“You’ll get as many outfits as you need. You still haven’t understood the main thing. These are your work clothes, so to speak. Your uniform. You’ll have to wear it all the time from now on.”
“Fine, but I still don’t understand. You yourself said that in contrast to the police, members of the Secret Investigative Force don’t wear uniforms. What is this, some kind of innovation?”
“Not exactly. This uniform is just for you. You, Sir Max, have become Death. Death in the service of the King.
