The Devil's Opera(22)

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Outside the Chain there was a bite of cold in the air. Simon pulled his jacket close around him with his left hand, checking to see that his bread was still tucked away.

The moon was shining full, and in the light Simon could see Hans look over at him. “So, your other arm is crippled?”

“Doesn’t work at all,” Simon said in a monotone.

“Did you hurt it as a younker, or something?”

“Born with it, I guess.” Simon swallowed hard. “Been that way as long as I can remember.”

They walked a few steps in silence, then Hans spat to one side. “Tough.”

“Yah.”

They walked a few more steps.

“Family?”

“No.”

“Tough.” Hans shook his head.

“Yah.” The taste of ashes was back in Simon’s mouth.

“Got a place?”

“Found a nook behind a chimney over in the new town. Stays warm there.”

Hans shook his head again. “Not tonight. You’re my luck; you’ll come home with me. Meet my sister.”

Simon still wasn’t sure what kind of man this Hans Metzger was. He shook his head in return. “You don’t have to do that.”

A large hand landed on the boy’s shoulder again. “I owe you, boy. You’re my luck.” The hand moved on to muss his hair. “Least I can do is give you a warm dry place to sleep tonight and food in the morning.”

Simon felt the lump of bread in his jacket. Food in the morning would mean the bread could feed him later. And he could probably run away if he had to. He knew the ins and outs of the alleys and streets and ruins better than anyone. “All right.”

“Good. Down this way.”

Hans turned down a cross street. Before long they exited the old city, crossed the Big Ditch and were in a slightly more reputable neighborhood than the depths where the Chain was sited. Simon was tired. His feet were beginning to drag. It had been a long day for him, so he was very glad when Hans turned into an alley between two buildings.

“Come on, boy.” Simon followed Hans’ broad back up a flight of narrow wooden stairs. They arrived at the top, and he waited while Hans fumbled with a key in a lock. After a few moments, Simon heard his friend sigh in satisfaction and push the door open.

“Hans? Is that you?”

Simon’s ears perked up at the sound of the voice from inside the rooms. It was a clear bell-like soprano that seemed to tease his ears, so unlike the voices of the vegetable sellers and barmaids that he saw on the streets.

“And who else would it be, Ursula?” Hans reached back and drew the boy into the room with him, then closed the door. Simon could make out a figure sitting in a chair with a candle on a nearby table.

“Oh!” Simon heard the surprise in her voice. “You have someone with you.”

“Ursula, meet my young friend Simon…I never did learn your other name, boy.”

Simon felt a laugh coming up his throat, which he hurried to turn into a cough. “Bayer.”

“Ah,” Ursula said, “you are from Bavaria.”

“Yes. I mean no.” Simon was flustered now. “I was born here in Magdeburg. My father came from Bavaria, I think.”

“Well, it is good to meet you, Herr Bayer. Please excuse my appearance.” The young woman was sitting in a robe, yellow hair plaited into a thick braid that hung before her shoulder. Simon was stunned by how beautiful she looked in the soft candlelight.

Hans dropped his hand from Simon’s shoulder, ducked his head and shuffled closer to his sister. “I…uh…I forgot how late it was, and I wasn’t thinking. Sorry, Uschi.”

Ursula gave a warm smile up to her brother. “I know. It’s all right.” She lifted her hand. “Help me up, please.”

Hans took her small hand with one of his and placed the other under her elbow. Simon watched as he gently lifted her from the chair. She came to her feet, then she…sagged. Simon almost jumped forward, afraid that she was falling. But then he could see that she was standing on her feet, she just wasn’t straight. Her right shoulder was dropped, which meant that her hip probably was as well.

Ursula reached to the table where the candle was and picked up a cane that was hooked over the edge of the table. With that in hand, she lurched into motion. Step by laborious step she made her way to a door in one wall. She leaned on the cane as she reached to open the door, then pivoted slowly to look back at her brother and his guest.

“Good night, Hans, Herr Bayer.”

“Good night, Uschi,” Hans said. Simon’s tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He could say nothing.

Hans sighed after her door closed and sat down in a chair across from Ursula’s. He waved Simon to a nearby stool.