Free The Stranger by Max Frei, Polly Gannon Page B

bedchamber?”
    “Yes, I can only imagine. Onward, Max! We both truly deserve a breather.”
    We went out into the garden. It was already getting dark. The bright round orb of the moon lit up Juffin’s weary face; his light eyes shone yellow. The yellow light enveloped me, and I thought stupidly, surprised: Why do people need eyes! Aren’t lanterns enough for them? That was my last thought. To be honest, I could have gotten along without that one, too . . .
    Then I looked at my wounded hand, and blacked out.

     
    Do you think I came to a week later in a soft bed, holding the hand of a pretty nurse? Think again! You still don’t understand what it means to work for Sir Juffin Hully. Do you think he’d let me lie around unconscious? Not he!
    They brought me around immediately; true, in a very pleasant way. I found myself slumped against a tree with my mouth full of some amazing potion. Kimpa was kneeling at my side with a cup, which I reached out for eagerly. Another gulp of the reviving liquid was administered to me.
    “Yum!” I said. And then demanded, “More!”
    “That’s enough!” Juffin insisted. “I’m not stingy, but Elixir of Kaxar is the strongest tonic known to our science. Black Magic of the Eighth Degree! But I didn’t tell you that.”
    “And who could I possibly tell? You, I suppose.”
    “You never know . . . Well, still hankering after a little blood?”
    I listened attentively to my body’s voice. It wasn’t calling out for blood. Then I turned my attention to the other aspects of my existence. Hm, newly acquired wisdom also nowhere in evidence. Although . . .
    “Looks like there’s still something left from all that happened—though not like back there, of course.”
    Juffin nodded.
    “That shake-up did you good, Max. You never know what’s coming. Boy, what a day it was! But all joking aside, Melifaro is in deep trouble.”
    “Those pathological specimens back at the fountain are in it even deeper.”
    Sir Juffin waved his hand indifferently.
    “It’s too late for them already. Helping the others will be as easy as one-two-three. But Melifaro, poor lad, has only a small chance. Let’s go home, Sir Max. We’ll feast, mourn, and think.”
    At home, the first thing we did was to consume everything in sight in the kitchen. This revived me even more. The process of meditative mastication stimulates mental activity. My own, at least.
    Just before dessert a belated ray of enlightenment visited me. I sat suddenly upright in the armchair, swallowed a piece of something that went down the wrong way, started coughing, and reached for a glass of water. To top off all the other misfortunes and mishaps of the day, I mistook a jug of the strongest Jubatic firewater for regular water, and chugged it down in one burning swig.
    Juffin observed me with the interest of a research scientist.
    “Whence this sudden passion for alcohol? What’s gotten into you?”
    “I’m an idiot,” I admitted despondently.
    Juffin rushed to console me. “Naturally, but don’t be so hard on yourself. You have plenty of other abilities.”
    “I completely forgot about our witness! The little box! I had planned to chat with it at my leisure, but—”
    Sir Juffin’s face underwent a sudden change.
    “I also have plenty of other abilities. And now is just the time to think about them. An inexcusable blunder! You had every right to forget about the box—but me! I always suspected that the dimwittedness of Boboota Box was contagious. All the symptoms are there—I’m terribly sick. Go get your treasure and bring it here, Max. Let’s see what it can tell us.”
    I went to my room. One of my slippers was lying on top of my pillow. On top of it, Chuff was dozing peacefully. I gingerly touched his shaggy ruff. Chuff smacked his lips, but didn’t wake up. And he was right not to—this was no time for waking up.
    I found the little box at the bottom of one of the drawers, and tip-toed back out. My hands trembled