promoted to captain, which (unlike most of his colleagues) he richly deserved.
The fellow reeled, but stood his ground.
“Did you come to admire our discovery, sir?” asked the unfortunate victim of my absentmindedness, rubbing his bruised chin.
“Yes. There’s something not quite right about your discovery,” I said and looked at Shixola thoughtfully.
“I agree. There must be. First Sir Kofa came by, then Sir Venerable Head himself graced us with his presence, and now you arrive. This ragamuffin is really running you ragged.”
“Ragamuffin . . . ?”
The expensive yellow looxi and the fancy boots of the dead man seemed very much at odds with that description. Then it dawned on me. Underneath this expensive looxi the man was wearing the old, tattered skaba I had glimpsed yesterday. It looked as though the fellow hadn’t changed it for years. This glaring contrast seemed significant.
“Yes, a ragamuffin, of course!” I shouted enthusiastically, and rushed off, leaving Captain Shixola bewildered and alone.
“Well, what do you say?”
Juffin smiled broadly, as though getting the chance to look at the corpse had been a birthday present, perhaps the best I had ever received.
“Nothing much to say. The fellow’s not dressed too well. I’ll be honest with you, it took a while for me to realize it. It looks like he hadn’t changed his clothes in years. By the way, who took his belt away from him? The killer, or you?”
“Whoever did, it wasn’t us, unfortunately.”
“How did he die? I didn’t see any wounds. Was he poisoned?”
“Possibly. It’s not clear. You have something to add?”
“No, nothing.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Well, my heart lurched unpleasantly. That happened yesterday, already, when Kofa and I saw him in the
“I’m not interested in anything ‘concrete.’ What really intrigues me are the messages your darn-fool heart sends out. If you had a few hearts to spare, I’d pass them out to our boys instead of those good-for-nothing gauges. Every time something halfway interesting happens, they stick at zero and refuse to budge. It’s ridiculous! Imagine, Kofa and I didn’t sense that anything at all was amiss. Your new friend sure did, though.”
“Who’s my new friend? Shixola?”
“What a short memory you have,” said the chief and grinned. “Grand Magician Nuflin Moni Mak was kind enough to send me a call an hour ago. He says it’s urgent that we get to the bottom of this case. He has a terrible foreboding, and no clues whatsoever. Are you related to him, by any chance?”
“You should know,” I said, heaving a sigh. “You’re the one and only expert on my genealogy. Give me some kamra, Juffin. First I don’t get enough sleep, then I have to gaze on a corpse . . . life just all-round sucks.”
“What, the trick with the pillow didn’t work?” Juffin laughed out loud. “Well, win some, lose some. And make your own kamra. Why did I waste my time teaching you? And don’t grind your teeth like that, Sir Max. Kofa hasn’t tasted your culinary invention yet. Please.”
“You can’t fight the magic word,” I muttered, mollified. “What a despot you are, Sir Juffin.”
“Could be worse.”
I carried out the motions mechanically, but the results were the best ever! Even Sir Kofa didn’t turn up his nose at it.
A feeling of justified pride dispelled the forebodings that had taken hold of me since my visit to the morgue. I pulled a parcel of cigarette stubs out of the folds of my Mantle of Death. My senior colleagues frowned in distaste, but I couldn’t have cared less. If people are doomed to smoke some reeking muck that they mistakenly consider to be pipe tobacco, one can only pity them.
“In what country do they make those belts?” I asked. “You must know, Kofa.”
“Good question, Max. At this point, I don’t have the answer. That is, as far as I’ve been able to tell, they aren’t made anywhere. But that’s clearly insufficient information. Actually, I was just about to go to the Customs. Since we’ve decided to take the bull by the horns, we can’t get by without Nulli Karif. That’s his job, to be in the know about all our dear foreign visitors. That’s why I woke you up, so you’d keep me company.”
“Did you like it?”
“What, your company? How could I not have liked it? It was a barrel of fun. Especially your heroic struggle over the spoon!” Kofa burst into peals of laughter.
“Well, I have had about all I can take, Sir Kofa,” I exclaimed. “I’m abandoning you for General Boboota. You’re cruel, and he’s kind and good. We’re going to go to the can together, sit in stalls side by side, and tap on the walls.”
“Why tap on the walls?” My colleagues were now beside themselves with mirth.
“So we can understand each other without words,” I explained. “It’s a spiritual bond you two could never even dream of.”
“Let’s get going, genius,” Sir Kofa said. “I can’t promise you spiritual bonds, but I guarantee you won’t be bored.”
The Head of Customs of the Unified Kingdom, Sir Nulli Karif, was a remarkable character in all respects. Small, garrulous, and, I assumed, very young. Round glasses in thin frames completed the image of this delightful personage.
“Well, whom do we have here! Sir Kofa! And you must be Sir Max. Splendid! Has something happened? You don’t have to answer that. I understand. Otherwise you wouldn’t have dragged yourselves over here from the other side of town. How’s Melifaro? What’s the news about his older brother? Is that pirate going to descend on Echo any time soon? They say Melifaro fastened the Earring of Oxalla on Chemparkaroke with such a powerful spell that no one will ever be able to remove it, even someone in the Seven-Leaf Clover. So much has happened around here! Do you remember Kaffa Xani, Sir Kofa? Well, he’s not with us anymore. He rented a ship and set sail for Magicians know where. Splendid! Attaboy! Way to go! Have you killed a lot of people, Sir Max? I don’t doubt you have. Is that true about Chemparkaroke? Has something indeed happened, Kofa, or did you just drop by to shoot the breeze?”
The monologue of the Head of Customs threatened to go on indefinitely, but Sir Kofa thought of a way to dam up the torrent of words, if only temporarily.
“Are you going to make us wait out here forever, or will you invite us into your office?”
“Oh, it’s not much of an office, really. Look here, Kofa. It’s a pantry, a storage room, not an office. This is where half the confiscated goods end up, since storing the junk elsewhere is too dangerous. And the fellows from Jafax can’t be bothered with nonsense like that. It’s a vicious circle. Soon I’ll have to start receiving guests right at the docks. Well, I’ll just set my chair down there and . . . oh, did you know our Kaffa Xani had become a captain? I suspect he’ll join the pirates and end up on the gallows in some Tasher jungle or remote Shishin Caliphate. But that’s how it goes. What sense is there in being a sailor if you don’t ship contraband? It’s foolish, that’s what it is. I don’t understand people like that. All the same, Sir Kofa, it’s splendid that you dropped by for a visit—though I don’t believe for a minute that’s the only reason you came to see me. I’m right on target, aren’t I?”
“Of course you are, Nulli. But perhaps you’ll offer us some kamra and keep quiet for three minutes? I’d never think of requesting five, I realize that’s out of the question. Well, are you finished?”
“But of course! They’ll bring us kamra directly. What kind do you prefer, Max? Local or Irrashi? Or maybe you’re a fan of Arvarox kamra? Though I think they already drank that up. The boys in this outfit do nothing but drink kamra—and from such enormous mugs.” He spread his small arms out wide to illustrate this phenomenon. I was duly impressed.
“If you aren’t exaggerating, Sir Nulli, the poor fellows must be hard at work,” I said. “It’s even hard to fathom the existence of a mug that big.”
“Certainly, Sir Max. We’re not playing the fool here. Those lads have to sweat,” said the remarkable fellow, without missing a beat. “I must say, though, the pay here is quite good. That same Kaffa Xani worked all of three
