Toymaker, The (16 page)

Jacob was quiet for a moment. He sat very still. ‘I don’t know anything,’ he said. ‘I told them then, and I’ll tell you now, I don’t know anything.’

‘Told who, Jacob?’ said Koenig. ‘Know what?’

But Jacob cradled his beer and said nothing.

Mathias was staring at the old man’s face, trying to remember it. Koenig turned and beckoned to him. Mathias stood up and came over.

‘This boy,’ said Koenig, ‘is Meiserlann’s grandson – Mathias.’

Jacob turned his head and looked hard and long at Mathias, then at Koenig. ‘Liar,’ he said in a quiet, cold voice. ‘Meiserlann had no grandson. No wife,
no children, no grandson. Only me. Tell you anything?’ he sneered.

He took off his mittens and held up his hands in front of Koenig’s face. Mathias could see now why he held the pot of beer as he did. He had no thumbs. Only the scars and stumps of where they had once been.

‘This is what they did to me,’ he said. ‘Three days, and I told them nothing. You think I will tell you anything about Meiserlann, Mr Liar?’

He began to put the mittens back on – he had to use his teeth to pull them over his wrist.

‘Meiserlann is dead,’ said Koenig.

Jacob hesitated for a moment. Then he pulled the last mitten on. ‘Liar,’ he said.

Standing up, he deliberately turned his back on Koenig and, shuffling to the door, went up the narrow steps and into the dark of the alley outside.

Koenig was on his feet straight away. He spoke quickly in Burner to Stefan. Short, clipped words that Katta knew had to be instructions. Then he turned to her and Mathias.

‘Stefan will take you back to the inn,’ he said. ‘Stay downstairs by the fire, where everybody can see you and you can see everybody else. No one can harm you then. Don’t move from there until I come back. Do you understand?’

He looked urgently towards the door, as though even this had wasted too much time. ‘I have to see where he goes,’ he said. ‘It won’t be far.’

Before Katta could open her mouth he had turned and gone.

It was the worst thing he could have done – he’d left her alone with Stefan.

When she looked at Stefan, he was staring at her as though not sure what to do with this sudden chance that had fallen into his lap. They both knew what he was thinking, and she wasn’t going to let it happen.

She turned to Mathias. ‘We could wait here,’ she said quickly. ‘He won’t be long.’

But Mathias wasn’t listening. He was still hearing what Jacob had said. The words were going round in his head.
No wife. No children. No grandchildren
.

Katta tugged at his sleeve. ‘We could stay here, eh?’ she said again. ‘What do you think?’

No grandchildren
. ‘But that can’t be right,’ he said.

‘Course it ain’t,’ she said. ‘It’s the wrong man. It must be someone else he’s talking about. Come on, we just have to wait here, see?’ She was growing more desperate in what she said. ‘We’ll just wait here. Right?’

She sat down at the bench. But Stefan stood up. He put his arm on Mathias and Mathias turned round and looked at him blankly.

‘We go the inn,’ said Stefan carefully. ‘We do the Koenig says us.’

Then he looked at Katta. ‘You do the Koenig says us too.’ It sounded like a warning.

‘
Tells
us,’ said Katta. ‘Not
says
us. And we could wait here just as good. You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going with you, Burner boy.’

Stefan had already got his hand on Mathias’s arm and began steering him towards the door. Katta sat defiantly where she was, expecting Stefan to stop and argue, but he didn’t. He led Mathias through the door and closed it behind them. She watched it for several moments, expecting it to open again, thinking that they would have to come back. But they didn’t, and suddenly The Bear didn’t seem such a good place to be on her own.

There were fewer people now, and she didn’t like the look of them at all. She had seen their sort before. Fleshy-faced, hard-drinking men, with sudden, loud, dirty laughs.

‘You on your own now, sweetheart?’ said a voice next to her.

She hadn’t seen the man step out of the shadows beside the stuffed bear, but he must have been watching her for a while. He put his drinking pot on the table and sat down too close to her. His breath smelled of onions and schnapps.

‘I’m waiting for my friend,’ she said quickly. ‘His name’s Koenig. He looks after me.’

‘I could look after you just as well, sweetheart,’ the man said in a wheedling voice. ‘Be a bit of a change for you, wouldn’t it?’ He pushed his face closer to hers. ‘Someone different.’

She tried to stand up but he held onto the sleeve of her coat and pulled her back down.

‘Can’t go if he’s not here yet, can you?’ he said, and this time there was a dangerous edge to the words.

‘He’s just outside,’ said Katta.

She snatched her coat out of his hand but, just as quick, he caught hold of it again.

‘Maybe we should go and look for him together then?’ he said. ‘Have a little walk, you and me?’

Still holding onto her with one hand, he drained the pot of beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of the other. ‘Let’s go and see if he’s here yet, shall we?’

He stood up, gripping her arm. She looked about, but there was no one to help as he led her towards the door. He opened it and they went out, up the steps into the dark alley. The ground was frosted and hard with ice. She was praying that Koenig would be there, but he wasn’t. The alley was empty.

‘Doesn’t look like he’s here,’ the man said, and
pulled her closer to him.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was now or not at all.

‘There he is!’ she said.

Startled, the man turned to look, and as he did so, Katta tried to jerk her arm free. She almost managed it, but he had too tight a hold and his fingers closed around the cuff of the coat.

‘Oh, no you don’t!’ he said.

He made a grab at her and she stepped back, but her feet slipped on the ice, and down she went like a stone. But he was still holding on, and her fall pulled him off balance. He lost his footing and down he came as well. But he’d let go. She pushed him away, her feet sliding on the ice. He tried to catch hold of her ankle, but he slipped again and that was enough for Katta. She was on her feet and running as fast as she could keep her balance. She could hear him shouting and swearing at her to come back, but he wasn’t chasing her. As she turned the corner, she looked round and saw that he’d fallen again and was lying in the middle of the alley, spread-eagled on his back, but she didn’t stop running. She ran until she had no more breath left to run with, and then she stood, bent over, hands on her knees, taking in great
lungfuls of air with her heart going bam, bam, bam in her chest.

There was no sign of Stefan or Mathias anywhere. She stood bent over until she’d got her breath back, then walked carefully to the end of the narrow street and looked both ways, but they weren’t there. She hadn’t a clue where she was. It wasn’t that bad, though, she thought. All she had to do was find her way down to the harbour. That would be easy. It might take her some time, but she could do it. If she was lucky, Koenig would already be there and Stefan wouldn’t be able to touch her.

She was hot and clammy from running. The air was ice-cold. She pulled up the collar of her coat and, choosing one of the two narrow lanes, began to walk. She went beneath a low arch and came out into a wide paved street.

All along the street, paper lanterns had been strung with candles flickering inside them. Some were decorated with ribbons – blue and white – like the frost that sparkled on them. Others were painted with the face and feathers of a smiling angel. People were strolling together, lots of them. They were all wearing carnival costumes and wrapped in warm cloaks and gowns. Some carried a small feather mask
on a little stick with which to hide their face. Some had whole masks – she could see Pierrot faces, animals and beaked birds. The people bowed to each other as they passed. She could hear singing and laughing. In the middle of the street, big fiery braziers had been lit, and men were selling hot chestnuts, pastries and wine. She stood staring. It looked like a dream. For a moment she thought it was.

Along the edges of the street, their backs against the buildings, children stood and watched. When
she looked up at the windows, she saw that there were other children leaning out of them too. She began to walk open-mouthed, staring at the costumes and the people as they strolled on each side of her.

When she came to a group of children standing in a doorway, she stopped.

‘What’s this all about?’ she said.

They looked at her as though they thought the whole world would know.

‘It’s the Festival of the Angel tomorrow,’ a boy said.

She turned round and looked down the street. ‘This happen every year?’ she said.

The boy laughed at her. ‘You stupid?’ he said.

‘I’m not from here,’ she answered.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow’s church day. You not seen it then?’

‘No,’ she said.

She stood staring at the fires and the lanterns. ‘It’s wonderful.’

The boy nodded knowingly at his friends. ‘You want to go up the other end,’ he said. ‘It’s better up there. You can see them all coming out the opera.’ He pointed. ‘It’s right down there,’ he said. ‘That’s where you want.’

A woman in a fine gown swept past, and then Katta found out why the children were standing, waiting. Why they were so keen to send her on her way.

‘Sweets, lady!’ they all cried at once, holding their hands out towards her.

The woman lifted the little mask she carried to her face and, putting her hand into the folds of her cloak, scattered something on the ground at their feet. At once the children forgot Katta and were scrabbling and fighting in the frost for the sweets that had been strewn for them. There was a chorus of voices from the open windows above.

‘Sweets, lady!’

But she had already passed on, leaving the squabbling children behind her.

Katta didn’t try to pick up any of the sweets: she knew there’d be a fight if she did. So she turned her back on them and looked down the street.

There was plenty of time, she thought. She didn’t need to find her way back just yet. If she was late, there’d be more chance that Koenig would be there, and he’d be more angry with Stefan for leaving her behind. The thought of that made her smile.

No. There was still time yet.

She began to walk slowly along the wide street, the way the boy had pointed. She wanted to see the fine people coming out of the opera. As she walked, she watched the ladies, saw how they nodded their heads to each other, how the men made graceful bows, and she tried to make herself taller and walk like them. There was a bright green-and-gold feather on the ground that had fallen from a mask. Picking it up, she brushed it against her cheek and walked on, pretending that she was a fine lady and that the feather was a mask of her own.

Trinket stalls and booths lined the street. People were selling whistles and ribbons, brooches and pins. In one place a small crowd had gathered in front of a painted cart, and Katta pushed her way forward, the better to see what it was they were watching. One side of the cart had been opened to make a small stage. Tar flares were burning in front of it. A fat moustached man in a ringmaster’s coat was beating on a big drum while a thin woman in a tight silk costume doubled and folded her body through tiny hoops, as though she were a snake. People were throwing money – coins that glinted in the light of the flares – but Katta had nothing to throw. She watched for a while, then wandered on.

A much larger crowd had gathered in front of the big white building at the end of the street. As before, Katta pushed and wormed her way to the front of it. Wide stone steps led up to the open doors of a grand entrance. Footmen in velvet coats and powdered wigs stood beside the doors while people in carnival costume made their way down the steps in ones and twos to the waiting carriages. The ladies wore jewels that sparkled as they went by.

Then two men came down the steps together. One was very tall. He wore the red and purple robes of a churchman, but even he held a small mask in his hand. He was talking to the man beside him; he’d taken his mask off too – it hung loosely by its ribbons from his fingers. Katta saw the mask first and only then the face – and her heart stopped. She’d seen that face before. She pushed herself back into the crowd as the man passed by, but he didn’t notice her, which was just as well, because his face was round like a moon, and in the hand that didn’t hold the mask he carried a silver-topped cane.

Stefan and Mathias had walked most of the way back to the inn before Mathias really understood that Katta wasn’t with them. The whole time he had been
thinking about what Jacob had said and what it must mean.

If the man at the theatre had been right, then the conjuror with the mark on his face was Meiserlann. Unless there had been two – but you wouldn’t get two people, not two conjurors, the same, with a big stain like that on their face. It was the thing that Gustav had always kept hidden. It was what Leiter had looked for first – why he’d washed the white paint from Gustav’s face. It had to be – Meiserlann was Gustav.