The Stranger's Woes (47 page)

“I wasn’t counting. I was fighting,” said Aloxto.

“You were indeed. Anyway, after Aloxto laid one of them low with his flyswatter—you won’t believe this, but it turned out to be a lethal weapon—I ordered this sweet lady to clear out and launched my Lethal Sphere at them.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” I said.

“I’m not completely a lost cause,” said Melifaro. “Granted, I hate doing it. I always get a headache after exploits like that, and it puts me in a terrible mood. But that’s okay. After a couple of glasses I’ll be in tiptop shape. They serve Ossian Ash here, the best booze in the entire Unified Kingdom.”

“Oh, yeah, I like it, too,” I said. Then I turned to Aloxto. “Those were Mudlax’s people, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “The pitiful servants of that filthy man. I sensed their presence all day. I hoped that Mudlax would appear soon after them, but he did not. Only a man who has forgotten his honor sends his useless servants to fight in his stead.”

“Melamori, take Sir Aloxto to Juffin,” I said. “The boss will be happy to hear the news. And he’ll patch him up in no time. Your right arm is wounded just above the wrist, isn’t it, Sir Aloxto?

“You are correct.”

“How did you know?” Melamori looked at me, her eyes wide as saucers. “He’s covered in blood. How could you see a wound under all that mess?”

I was slightly embarrassed. “When I look at Aloxto, my own right arm begins to hurt just where his wound is. It’s called ‘compassion.’ It happens to me.”

“Whoa!” said Melifaro. “Say, does it come with the ability to heal, too?”

“I doubt it,” I said, grinning. “Killing—that’s my job. Making someone feel better—not my thing.”

“You are speaking an untruth,” said Aloxto suddenly. “You do not like to kill, and when you look at me, my pain subsides.”

“Really? That’s news to me. Then again, I can’t keep looking at you forever, and Sir Juffin cures wounds much better than I do. You can take my word for it.”

“Let’s go, Aloxto,” said Melamori. “Max is absolutely right, we’d better hurry. I’m also going to send the policemen over here to take away the bodies. Is that a good idea?”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” I said. “This summer, interior designers do not recommend decorating with dead bodies.”

“Good night, then.”

Melamori took the hand of the handsome Arvaroxian and they left.

“She could’ve thanked me for saving her boyfriend,” said Melifaro, and then turned to the proprietor. “Sweetie, I’m getting drunk tonight, so bring your entire stock of wonderful booze over here.”

“All of it? You’re going to burst like a dam, hero,” said the woman. “There are already more dead bodies here than living people.”

“I’m not going to burst,” said Melifaro. “I’m going to get drunk. I feel like crap.”

“That’s just the way it goes sometimes. But it always passes, or life would be unbearable,” said the woman, putting a jug on the counter. “Have a seat, gentlemen. My face isn’t much to brag about, but it sure beats that pile of dead bodies you’ve been staring at.”

I loved her gutsy way of talking. She can be even ruder than me, I thought. How cool is that!

“Then I’ll brag about it for you,” I said. “If you don’t let me, I’ll get offended and go off to cry in a corner.”

The dark-eyed lady looked at me as though she was trying to decide whether I believed my own words. My head started spinning again, but I didn’t mind. If it felt like spinning, I had no objections this time. It could spin all it wanted, as far as I was concerned.

I moved to a tall barstool. Melifaro sighed and sat next to me. The woman gave us each a clean glass and sat down across from us. She hesitated a moment and then poured herself a drink.

“Actually, I was going to drink kamra and have something to eat,” I said.

“I make the best kamra in town. You’ll see.” She put a jug on a tiny burner. “But as for something to eat—you know, I don’t have a cook. It’s so boring to feed people. My customers come here to have a mug or two, smoke a pipe, and hurry back to their errands.”

“I’ll be darned,” I said, surprised. “Back in . . . where I used to live, they called places like this ‘coffee shops.’ But even in a coffee shop you could get a sandwich.”

“A coffee shop, huh? Sounds funny. I’m sorry, but I don’t even serve sandwiches.”

“Then my time’s about up,” I said. “I’m not complaining, but the World won’t be the same without me, don’t you think?”

“You’re right, it won’t,” she said, nodding seriously. “All right, this is against the rules, but I can give you half of my own dinner. I’ll be right back.” She jumped down from the stool and disappeared into the semidarkness behind a small door.

Melifaro gave me a gloomy look. “For your information, I’m hungry, too. Didn’t it occur to you that the
Fat Turkey
is just a few steps from here? We can go there instead of depriving this poor lady of her last crumbs. She already looks anorexic.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said firmly. “And she’s not anorexic. She’s just thin and very elegant, Mr. Connoisseur of Fine Women.”

“Fine,” said Melifaro. “Then I’ll have to get drunk on an empty stomach. You’ll live to regret this.”

“I’ll let you have a bite,” I said. “I promise.”

“Two bites,” said Melifaro. He seemed to be feeling better by the minute.

“Two bites it is, then. But please, no drunken brawls, okay?”

“Oh, there will be a drunken brawl for sure. You just wait,” said Melifaro. “Sinning Magicians, I’m such a dimwit. I should have waited for those guys to mow down that goggle-eyed ladies’ boy and
then
showed off with my Lethal Spheres. I’d have one less problem to deal with.”

I looked searchingly at Melifaro. Deep down, I had thought that Melifaro’s long and mostly fruitless attempts at courting Melamori were just one of the many things my colleague did for amusement. I guess I was a lousy psychologist.

“That bad?” I said.

“Worse. But let’s not talk about it. I’m not too good at playing the part of a rejected lover. Just not in my line.”

“Yeah, and you won’t get any standing ovation, either,” I said. “No fun in that.”

“Absolutely.”

“But you were darn good as an invincible hero today. I envy you so much that I think I’m going to poison you. I’ll just spit in your glass and call it a day.”

Melifaro looked flattered. He smiled and took a large sip of the not-yet-poisoned drink.

The dark-eyed proprietor of the
Armstrong & Ella
came out carrying a sizable paper bag.

“Here,” she said. “This is dinner
and
lunch. It turns out I forgot to eat lunch today, but I still don’t feel hungry. And here’s your kamra, Sir Max. If you say it’s no good, I’ll get insulted and take the food away.”

“You won’t have time,” said Melifaro. He had become considerably more cheerful and was busy opening the bag.

“I am awfully sorry for my insolence,” I told our lady-to-the-rescue, “but would it be too presumptuous of me to ask the name of the woman whose food I’m about to gobble up in the most shameless manner?”

“I’m Tekki Shekk. I thought you knew everything about everyone, Sir Max.”

“Almost everything,” I said. “Everything except addresses, names, and dates of birth. For those things we keep buriwoks. I’m glad you’re not scared of my Mantle of Death like the others, Lady Tekki. I’m beginning to feel like a normal person again.”

“But you shouldn’t,” said Melifaro. “Because you’re not a person—you’re a bloodthirsty monster. So don’t even try to pretend.”

“And you, mister, have already had your two bites,” I said, taking the rest of the sandwich away from him.

“Why should I be scared of you?” said Tekki Shekk. “Since I opened this place, I’ve been hoping that you’d drop by out of curiosity. After all, the place is named after your cats.” She produced a small pipe from the pocket of her black looxi and began to fill it. “As for your famous Mantle of Death and other scary stories for the general public . . . You know, I’m not afraid of death. I should thank my heredity for that.”

“Has everyone in your family been a hero?” I said.

“Oh, no. Don’t be silly,” said Tekki, lighting up her pipe. “It’s just that everyone in my family has already died and become a ghost. I’ll also become a ghost when I die. Maybe ‘ghost’ isn’t the best term, but I can’t think of a better one. I see my late brothers from time to time, and trust me, they’re having much more fun now that they’re dead. Then again, I can’t say they didn’t have any fun when they were alive.”

“That’s fantastic,” I said. “You’re very lucky, Lady Tekki. No frightening unknown future for you, then—the curse of the rest of humanity.”

“You can say that again,” she said.

“I want to be a ghost when I die, too,” said Melifaro.

I took a note of the fact that he had already killed approximately half of the jug.

“For that you should have been born my father’s child,” said Tekki. “That’s the only surefire way I know of.”

“Really?” said Melifaro. “Well, that might be a problem. And Sir Manga might take offense. I guess my only option is to stay alive. The longer the better.”

“Not the worst option, either,” said Tekki.

I looked at her with increased admiration. The lady sure knows how to joke, I thought. Or does she? Deep inside, I knew that she wasn’t joking at all.

Finally, a police patrol, headed by Lieutenant Chekta Jax, arrived at the tavern. The lieutenant greeted us politely and looked at Tekki with interest. She was probably not his type, though, because almost immediately he turned away, became somber, and started grumbling at his subordinates. They quickly removed the bodies of the elusive Mudlax’s dead servants and left.

“Shixola was much more fun,” said Melifaro. “Too bad he didn’t become a ghost. He’d have made a good one.”

“Yes, he would have,” I said. “A stupid death, his was, huh?”

“Death is never stupid,” said Tekki. “Death is always right.”

“I beg to differ. Death is a fool. Trust me, I’m the biggest expert around on that subject.”

“We’re both right,” she said. “When people talk about things like that, they’re all right. In a way.”

“Well, I’ll be,” said Melifaro. “Look at you two philosophers. By the way, my lady, how about another jug? This one’s empty.”