The Devil's Opera(141)
“I’ll be okay,” Marla smiled in return. “Promise.”
Amber placed her hands on Marla’s shoulders.
“Okay, but if that changes, you tell me, right?”
Marla laughed. “I’m a big girl, Amber. I can take care of myself.”
* * *
Hans won free from the crowd just as Simon got back to take the clothes from Gus. Seen up close, Hans looked even worse than he did from the ring level. There were several cuts on his face and his brows. Both eyes were blacked and one was almost swollen shut. He leaned a little to one side and winced when he touched a hand to his ribs.
The big man almost fell down on the bench. Simon and Gus helped remove his gore-sodden gloves, and both hands had swollen knuckles with blood oozing from split skin. Simon felt the return of his nausea and gulped to force it down.
Herr Pierpoint dropped through the ropes and handed the purse to Hans. “Great fight, Hans!” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Now go home and heal up and don’t do this again.”
Hans nodded without a word. He seemed to be having problems holding his head straight. Simon picked up the bloody towel scrap from the ground and tried to wipe the blood from his friend’s face, but all it did was move it around. Hans picked at his shirt, so Simon handed it to him. Before Hans fumbled into it, he leaned forward and slid the purse inside Simon’s jacket. “Hide that,” he slurred.
“What do you mean?”
“Just hide it. Don’t let anyone see it.”
Gus helped Hans into his shirt and jacket. Hans plucked his hat off of Simon’s head, rolled it into a bundle and stuffed it in the front of his own jacket. After a moment, Simon understood; Hans wanted people to think he still had the money. After another moment, the reasons why Hans might want that started to scare him.
Hans sat on the bench. Simon’s worry increased. His friend was just staring at side of the ring; not moving, not speaking, just staring. He laid his hand on Hans’ shoulder.
“Hans?”
The big man turned his head in slow motion and looked at Simon.
“What do I do now?”
The question confused Simon. Hans sounded serious, but how could he answer him?
“What do you mean?” he responded.
“You’re my luck. What do I do now?”
Simon sat down beside Hans. How was he supposed to answer that question? He was just a boy. Then he remembered something.
“I talked to Pastor Gruber at St. Jacob’s the other day,” he said.
“That old man?” Hans asked. “I thought he was dead.”
“No. He’s still helping out there. Anyway, he told me something about consequences, about how the things we choose to do always have consequences, and we need to think about them.”
“Consequences, huh?” Hans took the towel from Simon and rearranged the blood on his face. “Well, I can’t go back to work for Master Schardius after tonight. That’s one consequence.”
“Truth,” Gus muttered from behind them.
“You got hurt tonight,” Simon said, remembering a long-ago conversation with Lieutenant Chieske. “Bad hurt. You may not be able to fight like that again.”
“Umm,” Hans said, without agreeing or disagreeing.
“And I think Master Schardius is going to be mad,” Simon finished, remembering Ahithophel.
“Truth,” Gus said in a very worried tone.
That got through to Hans. “He’s likely to send someone to take the money back, either on the way back to…the…rooms…Ursula!”
Hans tried to shoot to his feet, but dropped back on the bench with a stifled groan, clutching his right side. He rose more slowly, and stayed on his feet this time.
“Gus, go ask Herr Pierpoint to come here right now, please.”
Gus asked no questions, but took off looking for the fight manager. In less than a minute Simon could see him returning, Pierpoint in tow.
“What’s up, Hans?”
“First, I took a lot of punishment tonight. I won’t be fighting for a while.”
Pierpoint looked a bit relieved. “Good. You need to rest and heal. Take as long as you want. After that fight, I’ll have fighters coming from all over to step in the ring here. But if that’s first, what’s second?”
“How well do you know Lieutenant Chieske?”
Pierpoint looked mystified. “Byron? Pretty well. Why?”
“I need you—not someone else, just you—to take him a message without saying anything to anyone else about it. Right now. It’s very important.”
Pierpoint’s mystification increased. “Can you tell me why?”
“No. Tell him he needs to come to my rooms in the city as soon as possible. I will meet him there. It is not a joke when I say it really is a matter of life or death.”