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in his pantry if I—”
    “It’s definitely not going to make a dent in his pantry,” I said, laughing. “Only it’s unlikely you’ll find anything edible in this house. I’ve already eaten everything in sight.”
    Poor Anday looked so deflated it almost brought tears to my eyes.
    “Oh, all right. I’ll try to rustle up some food.”
    I thrust my hand under the table. This was a good excuse for me to try the trick with the Chink between Worlds, which still baffled me.
    The rotund Anday Pu turned out to be a lucky guy. This time I pulled out not a broken umbrella or yet another bottle of mineral water (which happened all too often) but an enormous frying pan in which some eggs, covered with a generous portion of melted cheese, were already sizzling. This was more than I had expected.
    “Be sure to clean up after your meal,” I said sternly. “When Sir Max sees a mess on his table, he spits poison first, then looks for the culprit later. My advice to you is that it doesn’t pay to wait. You were assigned to write a story about the cats? Well, here they are. Write to your heart’s content, and make your editor happy. Got that? I’m going to bed.” I didn’t have the strength to send him packing. I was too tired for words.
    “No catch! Where did this grub come from?” the flabbergasted visitor inquired of my weary back.
    “From under the table.”
    “Well, knock me down with a feather,” Anday exclaimed.
    Ignoring his dumbstruck fascination, I went up to the bedroom and wrapped the powerful “rag”—the kerchief of the Grand Magician of the Order of the Secret Grass—around my neck with habitual ease. I had been strongly encouraged not to fall asleep without it these days.
    Then it was lights out for me.
    Praise be the Magicians, I finally had a dream. A very somber and meaningless one, but hey, I was willing to take any dream I could get. After that I awoke feeling absolutely refreshed. I was the happiest man in the Universe. Everything had fallen into place again.
    I went downstairs in the most benevolent of moods. The absurd journalist, Anday Pu, was still sitting at the table. The mess I had banished just a while ago had been restored, despite my glowering threats. The coquettish Ella was purring tenderly in his lap. On the floor, Armstrong was tangling himself lazily in the hem of Anday Pu’s looxi.
    “Sir Max never came home,” Anday said sadly. “I might as well give up. It’s the absolute end of the dinner.”
    “You mean you’re finished?” I grinned. “You don’t know how lucky you are, buddy! He would have finished you off. What happened to the table?”
    “Take it easy, kid! I don’t know where to put all this stuff. That’s your job, anyway. I’m sure you get paid a pretty penny for it. Come on, it won’t kill you.”
    “I don’t get paid a thing,” I said cheerfully. “It keeps me alive, and that’s enough. You see that door? That leads to the hallway, if you remember. There’s a brazier in there, a big thing. Bring it here and dump everything you see on the table in it. It won’t kill you, either, I hope.”
    “No, no, no problem,” said the guest, formerly on the verge of rage but now nodding agreeably.
    I nodded back, then went off to bathe. My good mood was unshakeable.
    When I got back to the living room, my hapless visitor was piling up the dirty dishes on a large metal tray. His face wore an injured expression. At the rate he was going, he wouldn’t be finished before midnight. I sighed, and in one bold motion swept the remains of the disorder into the brazier. Then I snapped the fingers of my right hand jauntily. I had learned this trick not long ago, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to garner applause for it. The small mountain of junk rose up, turned a sickly shade of green, then disappeared altogether, to my indescribable relief.
    “There,” I said proudly.
    “Was that Forbidden Magic? Whoa! Now you’re really smokin’, man. Everyone might as