The Stranger

years for us, and he’s already managed to hire a ship. Didn’t I tell you? Now he’ll sneak in contraband, and I’ll have to catch him. Magnificent! Ah, here’s the kamra.”

Sir Nulli sniffed the contents of the jug and launched into another flood of words.

“That’s Irrashi. It’s actually rubbish; but then, it’s imported. Where else can you get anything like that? Help yourselves, gentlemen. Though I’d prefer to just pour it out, I’m so sick of it. Well, if it isn’t old Tyoovin!” Nulli gestured toward the corner of his office, filled to the brim with all manner of bales and bundles, where a blurry white spot was just visible. “Sir Max, you haven’t yet met our Tyoovin. Let me introduce you to my predecessor, Sir Tyoovin Salivava, who was killed in the fifty-second year of the Code Epoch when he attempted a raid on the most famous smuggler of the Epoch of Orders. A great man, when all is said and done. I don’t remember his real name. They called him the ‘White Bird,’ and sometimes ‘Slippery Sun.’ Smugglers have always been a romantic bunch. But the fellow didn’t survive the brawl. Old man Tyoovin was a sight to behold. If he hadn’t had so much to drink that night, White Bird would never have caught him. Marvelous, don’t you think?”

“So, you mean he’s a ghost?” I interjected, staring incredulously, staring at the distant blur.

“Of course he’s a ghost. What else could he be? The old man’s not in very good shape today. By that I mean that Tyoovin usually appears with a completely human outline. I guess he’s feeling shy. Actually, Mr. Salivava was so drunk when they killed him that his ghost is never fully aware of what’s going on. But he’s a fine fellow. He’s a big help to me. It’s enough for him to materialize in front of some dapper, jaunty captain and bark, ‘Worthless nincompoops!’, and the chap starts spilling all his secrets at once, without any effort on our part. I can just go to sleep, which is usually exactly what I do. He’s quite something, that Tyoovin. He does love his work. Yes, indeed. But Sir Kofa, what on earth is wrong? I can see in your eyes that this isn’t just a social visit.”

“Nulli, I’ll give you another ten seconds. If, by then, you don’t shut up of your own accord, Max and I will tie you up, gag you, and then get down to business. Is that clear?”

“What do you mean, Sir Kofa? When have I ever refused to get down to business with you? I guessed right. You do have something to talk over with me. Excellent! I’m all ears, gentlemen. But first tell me: this concerns Melifaro and Chemparkaroke, am I right?”

“Sinning Magicians!” Sir Kofa rolled his eyes heavenward. “Of course not! You should know better than that. Why are you so wrought up over Chemparkaroke? Now, Nulli, put on your infamous thinking cap. This has nothing to do with smuggling, so—”

“Well, then, I’m not the one you should be talking to,” Sir Nulli Karif prattled on merrily. “I know who you need to see.”

“First hear me out!” Sir Kofa roared.

This had the desired effect. The fellow went quiet, adjusted his round spectacles, and focused his attention on Sir Kofa, who heaved a sigh of relief and continued.

“I know that you notice any little thing that smacks of the unusual. I want you to try to remember whether you’ve seen anyone lately whose belt kindled your imagination in any way. Wait a minute, though. Don’t even think about giving me the run-down on every belt you’ve ever seen in your life! I’m interested in a certain wide belt made from some unknown substance that looks a bit like mother-of-pearl, only much more vivid. Okay, you can open your mouth now. You’ve been very patient. It was good of you, Nulli.”

“I have seen it!” Sir Nulli Karif proclaimed victoriously. “I saw one, and not so very long ago. Now I have to remember where, and on whom. You know how many people there are hanging about here, Sir Kofa. That stands to reason—it’s a port. Why should it exist at all, if people are going to go around it, instead of passing through? Right? Well, it happened this year. Less than a dozen days ago, to be exact. What else? Um, yes, well, I saw the belt and said to Doo Idoonoo, ‘I’d arrest those pirates in the wink of an eye, if you and I were counted among the more fashion-conscious blokes in town!’ Not singular, but plural—pirates—so there were two of them in those belts. Maybe more. And it just so happened that Doo Idoonoo and I were there together, and then he didn’t show up at work for half a dozen days. He was sick. He’s quite a sickly chap . . . or he’s a malingerer. I don’t know to this day. My head is filled with Magicians-know-what kind of nonsense, but Doo Idoonoo will remember what he was doing before he fell ill. He’s a real hypochondriac. When he comes down with something, he starts to recall every person he’s come into contact with, and tries to make his wife believe they cast the evil eye on him. I’ll send him a call and ask him, and you help yourselves to some kamra, gentlemen. If it runs out, they’ll bring more. You can’t imagine how much of that junk we have here.”

Sir Nulli Karif went quiet, then grew tense. I realized he was engaging in Silent Speech.

A half hour later it was clear to me that Silent Speech had not made our host any less loquacious. Sir Kofa grimaced and coughed loudly. Nulli nodded, shrugged apologetically, and went back into a trance. A few minutes later he got up from his desk and left the office. I glanced at Kofa in bewilderment.

“He’s trying to be discreet, Max,” he explained. “There’s a rumor going around that I can eavesdrop on other people’s Silent Speech.”

“Only a rumor?” I asked.

“Well, actually, I can, but it’s too taxing. And it’s bad for my health. You know, son, there are some things that are better left alone. All the more since it’s easier to read the thoughts of my interlocutors once they’ve finished their conversations. So I had no intention of . . . But there’s no way of convincing anyone of that, so he might as well hide.”

“I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” said Nulli Karif. His face expressed more satisfaction than compunction. “Speaking frankly, I also felt the call of nature. Have you seen our new facilities? The boys have decorated it with all the smuggled talismans that held no interest for Jafax. Quite an educational spectacle! I found the answer to your question, Sir Kofa, so don’t fret.”

“Well, spit it out, Nulli. We’ll talk about your privy some other time.”

“That’s too bad, Sir Kofa. You’ll never see anything like it again. Well, it’s up to you, of course. It’s all fresh in my memory now. It was a ship owner from Tasher and his captain. They dropped anchor in the port on the morning of the fifth day of this year. They had a magnificent washtub of a vessel, better than many of our own. You can see for yourselves, it’s still moored there. It’s called the Old Maid. Funny, isn’t it? That’s what seamen sometimes call their perfectly innocent ships—it’s enough to make you split your sides! Now let me tell you the name of the ship owner . . .” Nulli rummaged around in the desk, found a stack of registry records and buried his nose in them. “Aha! His name is Agon. That’s all. Tasherians have such short names. Yes, Doo Idoonoo reminded me that their cargo did contain belts like that. We were joking that we would have liked to have been able to pin something on them, and confiscate the belts for ourselves. It was only White Magic of the fourth degree, though, nothing forbidden. We had to let them through.”

Sir Kofa took the records and began studying them.

“Very curious,” he said after some time. “It looks like they had nothing to sell but those belts. Some tourists!”

“They said they were planning to buy goods in Echo. That’s their right,” said Nulli Karif.

“Hmm, quite interesting indeed. Buying here, and selling back home in Tasher, where the prices are much lower. What a wise merchant this Agon is, how well he carries on his trade! A commercial operation like that makes sense only when you’re stealing goods from the capital, not buying them. Now that’s an idea. Is there anyone on the vessel, Nulli?”“Naturally. The captain and some of the crew. They’re either saving on the cost of a hotel or standing guard over their old tub. She’s worth it, a floating bathtub like that, didn’t I tell you? But there’s nothing there that would interest you, Sir Kofa. I’ve gone over everything with a fine-tooth comb.”

“Now we’ll find out what kind of ‘floating bathtub’ this is, and whether there really is anything of interest in it. Thank you for the kamra, Nulli, but let me give you some advice. Go back to the local brand. I suspect that foreign muck is just what’s making your assistant sick. It burns, and gives you a stomach ache. And keep your ears open—if you hear anything else about those belts, send me a call right away, day or night. I’m taking all the papers on the Old Maid— let me sign for them.” Kofa slapped his hand on a fat little tablet Nulli had produced from under his turban. “There we go. Good day, Nulli. Let’s go, Max.”

I bade farewell to the friendly customs officer, and we went to the port to look over the Old Maid and meet her captain.

The contours of the elegant sailing vessel were a vision to behold, The captain was equally impressive. A handsome, stately man with a long braid and a beard that fell below his belt met us at the mooring. A severe black suit put the finishing touches on his appearance: baggy trousers and a loose-fitting tunic down to his knees. The