life.
“Don’t worry,” Juffin grinned. “What does it matter to you what will happen in three hundred years? As far as I know, you never hoped to live that long. So just take it as information about my posthumous life. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I sighed. “All the same, don’t joke like that anymore, all right?”
“Who says I’m joking? Well, enough of your wailing and moaning. You knew from the very start why I was bringing you here. The fact that you concealed this from yourself is another matter altogether. Why don’t you brew up some kamra; you don’t want to lose your touch.”
“Oh, that’s more like it,” I said, getting down to business. “Now I’ll make a fool of myself, you’ll demote me to janitor, and everything will be fine.”
“No need for false modesty,” Juffin said, tasting my concoction. “Today it’s even better than last time.”
Exactly one hour before sundown, Sir Kofa Yox appeared, this time in his own guise, and enveloped in a splendid dark purple looxi. Never before had I seen such a rich hue. It almost seemed to glow from within.
“Only Sir Kofa has the privilege of dressing like that,” Juffin informed me. “After all, he’s been keeping the peace in this blasted town for two hundred years. Back then, the position of Head of City Police inspired far more respect than the title of Grand Magician. And it wasn’t just by chance—it was thanks to Sir Kofa that the philistines of Echo went almost unscathed in the Troubled Times. I could kill him for it: I’m sick of them, these philistines!”
“Mea culpa,” Sir Kofa muttered, his eyes downcast. “What could I do? I’d taken an oath.”
“But how did it come about that General Boboota occupied your post?” I asked. “Intrigue?”
Juffin and Kofa exchanged glances and exploded in laughter.
I blinked dully, uncomprehending.
“Boy, you still don’t understand where you’re working,” Sir Kofa said, after he had regained his composure. “Let me explain—it was a promotion. And what a promotion it was! What you don’t seem to realize is that Sir Juffin is second-in-command in the country.”
“After the King?”
“No, after Magician Nuflin, of course. And you and I and His Majesty Gurig VIII are trailing behind somewhere among the first twelve.”
“Well, I’ll be!” I said, shaking my head in vexation.
“Don’t worry, Max, that’s just the unofficial version of the ladder of hierarchy. It doesn’t change anything. Let’s go.”
And off we went to Jafax.
The Transparent Gates of Jafax Castle, the Residence of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover, the Single and Most Beneficent, open only twice a day: at sunrise and sunset. Early in the morning they are opened for representatives of the Royal Court and other important people. And at dusk, shady characters like us make our way inside. People think that the Minor Secret Investigative Force is the most sinister organization in the Unified Kingdom, though an initiate knows this is absurd.
The Grand Magician of the Order of the Seven-Leaf Clover, Nuflin Moni Mak, was waiting for us in a dark, spacious hall. It was nearly impossible to make out his face in the thick gloom. Suddenly I realized he hadn’t had a face for a long time already. To be more precise, the old man had forgotten what his own face looked like, and therefore no one else was able to descry its features. I also understood that the Grand Magician himself had seen fit to convey this silent information to me.
“You can’t imagine what a great joy it is that I’ve been able to stay alive until your visit, gentlemen! And what do you know, stay alive I did, until this very day!”
Magician Nuflin’s voice witnessed to a venerable old age, but its jangling chords concealed such incredible power that I shrank from him. He sounded slightly mocking and thoroughly amiable. He seemed to feel no need to intimidate his guests—like anyone who truly knows his own power.
“Have you been under Juffin’s tutelage for a long time already?” Nuflin Moni Mak asked, staring at me in frank curiosity. “How do you like it, this apprenticeship? They say you’re doing quite well. No need to be shy around Old Man Nuflin, Max. You should either be terrified of me, or not fear me at all. The first alternative seems rather pointless—we’re not enemies. You don’t have to answer, just sit down and listen to what the wise old folks say. You can tell your grandchildren about it. But then again, you can’t possibly have any grandchildren at your age!”
I took the Grand Magician’s advice and sat down on a comfortable, low divan. My older colleagues followed suit.
“Juffin, you are fond of a good meal,” Nuflin remarked affably. “It’s a wonder you waited so long with this amendment. My boys are simply thrilled about it. They say the opposition will be forced to shut up for two hundred years or more. Some theoreticians they are! Kofa, you’re a wise man. Tell me honestly, have you ever seen this ‘opposition’? I don’t believe in it, myself. It’s a childish fancy. My boys think that without enemies Old Nuflin will get bored with life. Tell me, Kofa, have I got things all wrong?”
“You’re quite right,” the Master Eavesdropper affirmed. “If there is an opposition, it’s not in Echo. And if someone’s grumbling about something in some Landalanda—”
“Ooooh, we’re scared, aren’t we?” Nuflin interjected. “We don’t even know where to hide. Well, that’s enough of that. Juffin, tell me how your little plan is going to work, and let’s be done with it. By the way, your boy here hasn’t had a wink of sleep in more than twenty-four hours. Are you aware of that? You shouldn’t drive your people so hard. You always were such a mean fellow.”
“He’s driving himself, without any outside help,” the boss said with a grin. “As for the reforms, for every chef an Earring of Oxalla, the same as your novices have. And let them experiment in the kitchen with Forbidden Magic, whether black or white. Only up to the twentieth degree, of course. More than that is out of the question.”
“Oh, Juffin. Why would they need more? That’s all an honest person needs to make a great meal.”
“Yes. And at the same time we can be sure that they will never resolve to ask for more. Whatever else it may be, it’s an extra safety measure.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner, Juffin? Were you waiting until I came up with the idea myself? They cook very well for me already. Who would have thought! Now everyone will be able to get a tasty meal, just like in the good old days! They’ll put up statues of us in front of every tavern! And young Gurig, too, so his nose won’t be out of joint.”
I followed the conversation with rapt attention, and while much of it was over my head, I was able to figure out that the Code of Krember would no longer prevent culinary masterpieces from seeing the light of day. This rather alarmed me. If I had been a terrible glutton until now, what would become of me under the new dispensation? What if I expanded to Boboota’s dimensions? Lady Melamori would fear me even more than she did already.
At a certain moment, I began to sense that there was another witness to our conversation—an invisible one. I even detected a familiar condescending chuckle. Was it possible that Maba Kalox’s curiosity extended to such pedestrian affairs? In any case, I knew only one person who was fond of being invisibly present at important events.
Magician Nuflin interrupted my musings.
“What do you think about all this, young man? Do you also like to eat well?”
“I do. True, you’ll never make a chef out of me. So my views on the subject completely coincide with those of Maba Kalox—it doesn’t matter where the food comes from, as long as it goes down well. Am I making myself clear?” I asked in a servile tone, fixing my gaze on a spot on the ceiling, from which Sir Maba seemed to be observing us.
Frankly speaking, this was a joke meant especially for Sir Juffin Hully. I thought my boss would pick up on the allusion, and that the others wouldn’t notice it at all. Instead, all three of them began staring at me like amateur botanists examining a rare carnivorous plant—in horror mixed with ecstasy.
“Oh, Juffin,” the Grand Magician exclaimed, breaking the silence. “What a nose your boy has! To sniff out the old rascal Maba—who would have thought? Where did you find him?”
“About where we buried Loiso Pondoxo in his time. A place even more remote, though.”
