The Stranger's Woes Read Online Free

“Whenever I discover new relatives, it seems they always manage to migrate to the outer reaches of the World.”
    General Boboota, in the meantime, had lit up a cigar. “Sir Max!” The erstwhile victim of my cruel experiment gave a sigh of delight. “Even in my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined that such things exist. Are they really all for me?” His hands were trembling.
    “They’re all yours,” I said, nodding. “I’ll have my relatives send more if you like. They’re too strong for me, but it’s a matter of taste, of course. Glad you enjoy them.”
    “It’s . . . it’s . . .” He couldn’t seem to find an uncensored word to describe his euphoria. Neither could I. The scoundrel with a big fat cigar between his teeth—that was a sight to behold. And Melifaro’s restraint (he hadn’t said a word through all of this) deserves a special word of praise. That was what you call a surprise.

     
    Just before we were about to leave, I recalled that the fellows from the Police Department had begged me to find something out for them.
    “Sir Box,” I began cautiously. “Have you fully recovered from your illness?”
    “Yes, Sir Max. Thank you for asking after my health. I’m in tip-top shape now.”
    I sighed. Poor gentlemen police officers—though Boboota seemed to have become quite harmless. “So you plan to return to the House by the Bridge soon?”
    “Yes, in a dozen days or so. Ulima, you see, thinks I should take it easy and not rush things.”
    I sighed again, this time in relief. Everything was sorting itself out without any help from me.
    “You’re quite right, Lady Ulima.” I could have kissed the General’s sweet wife then and there. “King Banjee is no joke. The slightest overexertion, or, let’s say, nervous strain, can lead to a relapse. I can vouch for it.”
    “Vouch for it?” Lady Ulima said, confused. “Did you eat some of that dreadful mess, too, Sir Max?”
    “Praise be the Magicians, no. But I have spent a great deal of time investigating the consequences of others’ misfortunes.”
    “Did you hear that, dumpling?” said this wonderful woman. “I don’t think you should return to work until Midyear’s Day, if not later.”
    Boboota nodded obediently.
    Kamshi and Shixola’s upcoming two-man antiterrorist campaign in the Magaxon Forest had been saved.

     
    “Will you drop me off at home, Max?” Melifaro said, plunking down wearily in the back seat of the amobiler. “Juffin has no choice now but to free us from work for half a dozen days. I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.”
    “Really? What wore you out? Counting all Boboota’s toilets? That’s understandable—you don’t have enough fingers to count them on.”
    “Are you making fun of me? That’s not fair. I can’t bear these formal dinners. They drive me to distraction. In my family, everyone eats when they please, including guests. So there’s always someone at the table enjoying a meal or a snack, except at night, of course. That’s what I was used to when I was growing up. But here, you sit in one spot for three hours with your mouth full, making polite conversation. I thought our hosts would be amusing, but they turned out to be such bores. Although Lady Ulima, of course, is charming. And the mushroom—that was something else!” Melifaro livened up a bit just thinking about it. “Yes, that mushroom is something to write home about.”
    “And the portrait?” I chuckled. “And the dozen toilets? And the family lore about how the youthful Boboota filled his pants? Holy crap!”
    Melifaro brayed so violently that the amobiler jumped up and down.
    Fifteen minutes later I deposited him in front of his door on the Street of Gloomy Clouds, in the center of the Old City. I watched him with envy as he went inside, then turned toward the House by the Bridge. I still had to go to work.

     
    The job that awaited me wasn’t an easy one. It consisted of arranging my posterior more on the