Toymaker, The (15 page)

Of the coaching inns inside the city walls, it was one down by the harbour that Koenig chose. The one where the masters of the ships and the merchants of the city met to do their business. He took a room up a flight of narrow stairs. It had one long window that opened out onto the masts of the barges in the harbour – almost close enough to touch them. From there they could see across the ice to the small dark islands and the ships at anchor beyond. For all his travellings, Mathias had never seen a ship.

He sat himself on the window ledge beside Katta, looking out at the sea, his coat collar pulled up to his chin. He had been waiting to speak to her, waiting for her to be herself again, because a thought had been winding quietly away in his head as he sat in the saddle in front of Koenig. He’d wanted to tell her, but there hadn’t been a chance until now.

Why would he and Gustav have lived in Lutsmann’s cart if Gustav could have simply dug up treasure? That made no sense. That wasn’t what Gustav had said anyway. What Gustav had said was that he knew a secret. He didn’t say he had one. He
knew
one. And that was different. A secret was something that somebody else didn’t want you to know. Maybe that’s what the paper showed: where whatever it was – the secret – was hidden.

And that was the thought that was winding in his head. What was it that anyone could want to hide that much?

It was while he was thinking this that he’d remembered something else too, as though the things were somehow tied together. He’d remembered the nights in the cart when Gustav would want to know if the morning was coming yet. Except now he understood that this hadn’t been what Gustav had
wanted at all. He’d always ask the same thing, staring with wide, mad, eyes – ‘Is it lighter?’ But it wasn’t the morning coming that Gustav had been talking about at all. It had been the man.

Mathias looked up at Katta and his face was pale and serious.

‘It’s not treasure,’ he said. He knew that she wanted it to be, but it wasn’t. He glanced over towards Koenig and Stefan, but they weren’t looking. He lowered his voice so that Katta had to strain to hear it. ‘It’s something he knew,’ he said.

She wasn’t sure that she’d heard him properly – her head was still fuzzy – but then she realized that she had, and she frowned.

‘But that ain’t worth nothin’,’ she said.

‘It depends what it is,’ he answered.

She shook her head, then pulled a face, because it had hurt. ‘It’s got to be worth something or they wouldn’t be tryin’ to find it as well.’

Mathias bit his lip and looked at her. This was the other thing he’d thought. ‘Who says they are?’ he said.

Whatever it was Koenig had in mind, he kept it to himself, though Stefan must have known, because
Koenig sent him out on some errand. He was gone for a couple of hours or so. When he came back, Koenig listened carefully to what he had to say, but it was all in Burner and, try as he might, Mathias couldn’t understand a word.

He watched them as they were talking. It was a strange way that Koenig and Stefan had. He couldn’t fathom it at all. He’d seen Stefan answer back; other times he’d not answer at all, as though he hadn’t heard what Koenig had said, but clearly he had. And when he did that, Koenig would look at him with hard eyes, but he wouldn’t do anything. He couldn’t imagine anyone else taking that liberty with Koenig. But Stefan did. More’s the point, he got away with it. And that puzzled Mathias, because he couldn’t see why.

When he’d tried to talk to Katta about it, she hadn’t wanted to listen. She’d stopped wondering why Stefan was there – it made sense to her. Koenig would need someone else, like now. Wherever it was that Stefan had gone, Koenig hadn’t had to go, and maybe Koenig didn’t trust her and Mathias on their own. After the trouble they’d had at the inn, she wasn’t sure that she wanted him to. They were safe when he was there in a way they wouldn’t be if he
wasn’t. But whether that would be the same when he found whatever it was they were looking for, she wasn’t so sure. For the moment though, she trusted him, which is more than she did Stefan.

The rest of the afternoon slipped past. Come the evening, Koenig told them to get their coats. They were going out.

‘Where to?’ said Katta.

He looked at her with wry amusement on his face. ‘Work it out,’ he said.

She didn’t think that he’d really meant it, but when he waited for an answer, she realized that he had. Like Mathias, she’d been thinking while they walked – what would she do if she were Koenig? He could go to Dr Leiter and sell the piece of paper, but if he’d been going to do that, he’d have done it already. Leiter was just proof that the paper was worth something. If Koenig wanted to know what it was really worth, he was going to have to find out about it himself.

But how?

There really was only one place she could think of to start. ‘Find someone who knew the conjuror,’ she said.

Koenig smiled. ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘And who might that be?’ He buttoned his thick coat. ‘Who might know a conjuror?’

But this time she didn’t have an answer. She frowned crossly and looked at Mathias.

‘Who might know a conjuror?’ Koenig asked him.

For a circus boy, the answer was suddenly blindingly simple.

‘Another conjuror,’ he said.

Koenig put his hat on his head.

‘So where are we goin’?’ said Katta.

She still hadn’t grasped it. Koenig smiled at her again, his eyes bright with amusement at her confusion.

‘To find a conjuror,’ he said. ‘Or someone who will do just as well.’

There were several theatres in the city. That is where Koenig had sent Stefan – to find out about them. Some were more grand than others. It was one of the lesser ones that Koenig chose, where, he said, they’d be more likely to know the small people as well as the great – the grand theatres wouldn’t need to bother with the likes of them.

Katta had never set foot inside a theatre, not even
a shabby theatre like the one she found herself in now. The nearest she’d got were the fairs and travelling shows – like Mathias’s – that passed the inn. She held her ticket tight in her hand and stared open-mouthed as the crowd pushed in around her. In the boxes, girls with painted faces waved at the men below. Then, to a cheer, the big candelabras were lit and hoisted up on thick ropes to swing below the rafters of the roof, and the spectacle began. There was a mock fight between a knight and a dragon, which the dragon won, but whether he was supposed to was another matter because they started another fight, a real one, as they left the stage. There was a man who sang and drank at the same time. Then on came a lady who twirled a parasol and did a little skipping dance while she sang, but the crowd didn’t like her at all and began whistling and catcalling. She kept at it for as long as she could, then, thumbing her nose, she turned round and, lifting her skirt with a flounce, stuck her bare backside out at them – and then they cheered.

But there was no conjuror.

Katta didn’t care; for that moment she’d quite forgotten the world. She stood hooting and cheering with the rest. It was only when, hot-faced
and smiling, she turned round and saw Stefan looking at her, the ugly wound across his hard, cold face, that she remembered. She turned quickly to Mathias – and then stopped. He was standing next to her, staring up at the stage. His face was blank and he had tears in his eyes. He could smell the greasepaint. It made him think of the rope around his wrist, of his grandfather dribbling and drunk. Of Anna-Maria and Lutsmann. Of the slaps and beatings; of all the misery that he had endured. She couldn’t have known the reason, but she slipped her hand into his, and though he didn’t look at her, he took it and held onto it tightly. But the show wasn’t the same for her then. It had all been spoiled.

The curtain finally came down, and the crowd began to drift away. But not Koenig. He leaned against a wall and watched the people go until there were none left. Then the curtain was pulled wide again and the stage cleared. An old man began sweeping the floor. He had a small dog at his heel, snapping up what it could find to eat amongst the things that had been dropped.

He’d been sweeping for a while before he noticed them. ‘You need to go now,’ he said. ‘There’s no more.’

But Koenig didn’t move. He looked up at the roof and into the empty boxes. ‘It’s many years since I was here,’ he said. ‘Not much has changed.’

He had judged the old man just right. Ready, given half a chance, to put down his broom and talk.

‘When was that?’ said the man.

Koenig pulled a thoughtful face, as though trying to reckon when it had been. ‘Ten, twelve years. I used to come here often. You were here too – I remember you.’

‘I was at the front then,’ said the old man wistfully.

Koenig clapped his hands as though he had just recognized a face from the distant past. ‘I thought so!’ he said.

Katta stared at him. It was so brazen. She almost wondered if he really had been there once. The old man obviously thought he had.

‘Times change,’ said Koenig.

The man shook his head sadly. ‘They do.’

‘Who did you have then?’ said Koenig, looking for all the world as though he were trying to remember.

‘The Great Landee,’ said the man.

‘Who was …?’

‘The fire-eater.’

‘Yes!’ said Koenig, slapping his hands together
again. ‘I remember him. And who else?’

‘Lady Juniper.’

‘Lady Juniper.’ Koenig sighed and put his hand across his heart. ‘Not like today, eh?’

‘Not like today,’ said the man. ‘All rubbish. Did you see that woman?’

Koenig shook his head. ‘Who was the conjuror?’ he said. ‘Had a big mark on his face. Name like Hustav? Or Gustav?’

Mathias had been watching it all, waiting for this moment. Now he felt the hairs on the back of his neck creep. He stood very still. But the man looked puzzled. He prodded at the floor with the broom.

‘No,’ he said at last. ‘That was Meiserlann who had the mark on his face. But it wasn’t here that you’d have seen him. It was at The Arrow. You must have seen him there. He didn’t do here. Too good for us, even then.’

‘Is he still about?’ said Koenig.

‘Meiserlann?’ The man shook his head. ‘No. He just upped and went, didn’t he? Left old Jacob behind, and went.’

Mathias could feel Katta looking at him, but he didn’t turn to her. He was staring at the man, waiting for what was going to come next.

‘Jacob?’ said Koenig.

‘His dresser. You know – his stage clothes. He’s still about though. He drinks at The Bear. I’ve seen him there. But he’s …’ The man tapped the side of his head with his finger.

‘That’s sad,’ said Koenig. He took a deep breath. ‘Well, we must go.’

‘I will show you around if you like,’ said the man.

‘Another time,’ said Koenig, and he held out a silver coin. ‘Drink on me for old times,’ he added.

The man smiled. ‘I will,’ he said and, taking the coin, dropped it into his coat pocket. Then he began sweeping again with the little dog at his heels.

As they walked away, Mathias didn’t know how he felt. It had only ever been ‘Mathias’ and ‘Gustav’. Now, suddenly, there was another name, his name too – Meiserlann. Mathias Meiserlann. He said the names together, and it felt like a door was opening into a past that he knew nothing about. It was his past and it was there to be found.

The Bear was not a difficult place to find, but you wouldn’t want to go in unless you had business there. It was in a back alley. There were a few narrow steps leading down to its door. Inside it was dirty and
dark. Mathias wasn’t even sure if it was open. There was a small stove and a large stuffed bear in one corner. Its fur was worn thin and the innards of shavings and padding poked through the palms of its huge paws. There was no one there. Koenig banged on the counter and called out. Finally a slattern-faced woman with a baby on her hip appeared from a room at the back.

‘You want?’ she said.

‘To find an old friend,’ said Koenig.

She looked at him suspiciously, then at the children. Katta did her best to smile, but the woman looked away.

‘Old Jacob,’ said Koenig. He touched the side of his head so that she might know who he meant. ‘He comes here still?’

‘He might,’ she said.

He put a silver coin under his fingertip and pushed it slowly across the counter towards her. She looked at him and said nothing, so he took another coin and did the same, leaving it just beside the first. For a moment she left them there, as though wondering whether her silence might earn her another, then she realized that it might lose her them both, so she quickly swept each of them up into her apron.

‘Later,’ she said. ‘He comes later.’

‘Then we’ll wait,’ said Koenig.

They sat in the shadows in one corner of the dim room. Men came in ones and twos but the room never filled. They were rough, labouring men, dirty from their day. Few of them spared Koenig more than a glance. Then the door opened and an old man came shuffling in. He was wrapped up against the cold. Koenig was watching the woman behind the counter. Mathias saw her look straight at him and then away, and he knew then that this was Jacob.

Jacob sat at a bench just along the wall from where they were. He wore a heavy coat and scarf, and thick fingerless mittens that he didn’t take off. When a pot of beer and a tiny glass of schnapps were brought to him, he used both hands to tip the schnapps into the beer and then to cradle the pot as he lifted it to drink. It seemed to Mathias a very clumsy thing to do.

‘Jacob?’ said Koenig.

The old man slowly turned his head to see who had said his name.

‘It is!’ said Koenig. ‘Old Jacob – the dresser.’

Jacob looked hard at Koenig and then at the children. ‘I don’t know you,’ he growled, and looked away.

Koenig picked up his drink and went and sat next to Jacob.

‘Leave me alone,’ said the old man.

‘I want to talk to you about the old days,’ said Koenig warmly. ‘At The Arrow.’

Jacob stared steadily ahead.

‘About Meiserlann,’ said Koenig.

‘I don’t know anyone by that name.’

‘But you did,’ said Koenig. ‘You were his dresser.’