“You’re right, Max. Let’s go, before I change my mind. Sir Melifaro, I’m leaving.”
“Has something already happened in the dark alleys of our capital, gentlemen killers?” Melifaro’s quizzical face poked out of the doors of his office. “Whose blood are you planning to drink? Really – has something happened?”
“No,” Lonli-Lokli said. “We just think that your backside alone will be more than enough to wipe the dust off the chairs of our side of the Ministry. And Max and I will be doing just about the same thing, but in another place. I deeply regret that your working schedule won’t allow you to accompany us to the Glutton at this time of day.” He turned to me. “Let’s hurry, Max, before something does happen. You’re too lucky in attracting adventures.”
Melifaro’s mouth fell open. The airy monologue of the deadpan Lonli-Lokli, the last bastion of seriousness in our small, zany organization, was too much for him.
“Where’s our good old Lomki-Lonki? What did you do to him at that resort town, Max? Cast a spell on him? Admit it, you beast you!”
“There’s nothing to admit. I just gave him a piece of my mind a few times and swore at him like it was going out of style. Right, Shurf?” I winked at Lonli-Lokli. “I’ll have to try the same thing on this fellow here. Who knows what kinds of transformations–”
“Yes, Max, that was some first-rate cussing you did there,” Shurf said with an air of nostalgia. “As for Melifaro, I think you might want to give it a try in his presence. Maybe after that he’ll finally learn my name. You must do it soon. In the interests of civic peace and social tranquility.”
And we left proudly, the two most fearsome people in the Unified Kingdom, I in the Mantle of Death, and Shurf in the Garments of Truth – a veritable double-edged sword.