“I know what there is to know, insofar as it’s possible to know at all. This, Max, is a legend, you see. And it’s a legend I haven’t allowed myself to believe up until now. Well, I mean, whether I believed it or not—that’s not the point. I just didn’t bother to give it much thought. And lo and behold . . . well, never mind. Look! Now comes the most interesting part.”
“I wouldn’t mind something slightly more boring, Juffin. I’m feeling sick already.”
“What did you expect? Sure it’s sickening . . . It’s okay, though. After a debut like this, your job in the service will seem like a piece of cake! Things like this don’t happen every day, you know. Generally they don’t happen at all.”
“I hope not. Though I am lucky when it comes to entertainment.”
Next episode. We saw how Krops Kooly appeared in the bedchamber, another nice-looking young fellow with hair the color of an orange—which, by the way, is considered to be an undisputed sign of masculine strength and beauty in Echo. In the case of Krops Kooly, this belief was absolutely justified. There are many attractive people here, I thought suddenly. Many more than where I come from. Although they themselves aren’t aware of it, they have completely different esthetic norms. I wonder if I am considered to be attractive here, or a total scarecrow? Or what?
A very relevant question, indeed.
Meanwhile, the redhead went robustly through the motions of tidying the room. What else can you do if someone sends you to clean up a long-empty room, which is nevertheless cleaned up every day? He busied himself in every corner, menacingly waving his feather duster about—the only tool of his trade. Several minutes later it wasn’t even worth going through this. The room was in a pristine state. Then young Krops apparently decided that he had earned a rest. He stopped in front of the mirror and studied his face. With his fingers he pulled the corners of his eyes slightly. Then he let them go with a sigh of regret. It seemed that the almond-shaped variety had been tried before many times, and each time he found it more to his liking. Then he examined his nose with a critical air. (Show me a young person of either sex who is satisfied with his or her nose.)
I’m afraid that this trifling dissatisfaction was the last feeling he experienced in this life. The transparent spiderweb was already glistening on his sleeve. In a few seconds the boy ended up in the middle of an almost invisible cocoon. I felt in my stomach the dull relief that gripped the poor fellow—everything became irrevocably simple. YOU MUST GO THERE! And orange-haired Krops Kooly stepped into the depths of the looking glass. His helpless smile again resembled the expression on the petrified Sir Melifaro.
I turned away when I realized that my feelings coincided unpleasantly with the experiences of young Krops: I already almost felt how I was being consumed; and most disgusting of all, I felt I could easily grow to like it! The decomposing ape face appeared before me. The cavernous orifice of the mouth surrounded by squirming spider legs seemed so calm and inviting, such a desirable haven . . .
I took a bracing gulp of Elixir of Kaxar. Yes, Magic of the Eighth Degree—it’s really something! It’s devilishly delicious, and all your delusions seem to blow away like a puff of smoke! Since childhood I had been taught that only the bitterest, most foul-tasting concoctions could do you any good—and here I had discovered that it was all poppycock! Good news!
Convinced that my good sense was still in working order, I forced myself to return to the vision. Again, the empty bedchamber, tidy and clean.
“You see, Max?” Juffin’s elbow jabbed my long-suffering side. “You see?”
“What?”
“That’s exactly it—there is ab-so-lute-ly nothing there! Everything ended right then and there, like it had been switched off. It’s no wonder my gauge read only two to three that evening.”
It suddenly dawned on me. Evidently, the cheerful adventure in loving memory of Count Dracula really had raised my poor little IQ.
“After it eats, it sleeps . . . right? And nothing happens, because the mirror sleeps with its victims inside. And there’s no magic! Right?”
“Right. That’s how it fooled us. All our suspicions came to naught with one glance at the indicator on my pipe. Magic usually exists in the object in which it is invested. It either exists or it doesn’t. But this monstrous piece of furniture—it’s alive. And a living creature is sometimes wont to go off into the world of dreams. When a magus sleeps, all gauges fall silent. Most likely they are going crazy in other worlds, if such gauges were to exist in other worlds. Which, frankly speaking, I doubt. Well, let’s go back into the living room, Sir Max.”
“You know me—always ready for a snack!”
Sir Juffin got up off the floor, cracked his knuckles, and stretched. I carefully picked up the little box and put it in my pocket. I had always wanted a talisman. Now, it appeared, I had one at last. This one was plenty.
The candle, in the meantime, had burned out. I reached out mechanically to lift the stub up off the floor. There was nothing there. Nothing! By then, I wasn’t surprised, and I just filed it away.
We returned to the living room. The sky was growing light behind the window. We had a nice little sit-down, I remarked to myself indifferently. It had been twelve hours since Sir Makluk’s messenger arrived! Think of that!
The kamra was exquisite. The imperturbable Kimpa brought us a plate with tiny cookies that melted in the mouth. A sleepy Chuff came out to join us, wagging his tail. Right away, Juffin and I began a silent contest: who could feed Chuff the most cookies? Chuff succeeded in pleasing and amusing both of us, flying through the room like a small, shaggy torpedo. Having eaten his fill, he settled down between us under the table.
“Max,” Juffin said, suddenly sad. “Now I’m not sure whether Melifaro has even the slightest chance. We can’t just grab him by the scruff of the neck, pull him out of the room, and then bring him to his senses. He already belongs to the mirror, and it’s impossible to break those kinds of ties while life is on hold. When the mirror comes to life again, it will demand its victim, and take it anywhere it can get it—even from another world. I could, of course, destroy the monster. Shurf Lonli-Lokli can, too. But I’m not sure that anyone will be able to kill it fast enough to keep Melifaro on this side of life. And I can’t let everything remain as it is now. That can’t go on indefinitely. I must put an end to the mirror and its ravenous Master. But you can’t just destroy anything you want to while the world stands still! To kill the monster, I need to wake him up. And that means sacrificing Melifaro to him after all. You understand that that isn’t a sacrifice I’m willing to make. I don’t even want to consider the possibility! It’s a vicious circle, Max, a vicious circle.”
I reached for another cookie absently. I was sad. Before this, it would never even have entered my head that Sir Juffin, a man who had transferred me from one world to another in his spare time (tell me, what could be more improbable!) could grow so despondent and weary. I understood that there were limits to his might. This made me feel lonely and uncomfortable. I crunched my cookie loudly in the quiet room. A vicious circle . . . suddenly, an idea took my breath away. No, it couldn’t be as simple as that! If it had been that simple, Sir Juffin would certainly have thought of it himself. And yet . . .
“Juffin!” I called out hoarsely. I stopped, cleared my throat, and began again. “This is probably very stupid—but you said ‘a vicious circle.’ So, when one mirror is placed opposite another, that’s also a vicious circle. I was thinking—maybe if the monster sees its own reflection, they’ll want to feast on each other?” I finally plucked up the courage to look Juffin in the eye. He was looking at me, his mouth agape. Then the dam burst.
“Sinning Magicians! Do you have any idea what you’ve just said, lad? Are you aware of what a unique specimen you are? Tell me honestly!”