The Devil's Opera(94)

The promoter guided them to a bench in a roped off section of seats. “This is where you will wait for your fight. We have three fights tonight, and you’re the main attraction, so you’ll fight last.”

“Sounds good,” Hans said as he took his seat at the end of the front row much like Simon imagined a king would seat himself on his throne; slowly, and with deliberation. Simon sat to Hans’ left almost as an afterthought. Herr Pierpoint’s down-time partner Tobias called for him from the opposite end of the ring, so he left them to their own devices to answer that call.

After a few minutes, two other fighters made their way to the ropes and joined them on the benches.

“Where are the other guys?” Hans asked one of them.

“Down at the other end,” came the response with a jerk of a thumb.

The next little while was amusing to Simon. The crowd around the ring was growing larger by the minute, and almost every man who joined the throng made his way by the roped-off area. Most just looked at Hans and nodded. Several spoke; a few offered their hands. It was almost as if Simon’s imaginary king were receiving the worship of his subjects; at least, that’s what it seemed like to Simon as Hans smiled at all and sundry. If the bench they were on had had a back, Simon was sure he would have leaned back and stretched his legs out.

Simon also found it humorous that few of the passers-by seemed to notice the other fighters.

At one point there was a lull in the traffic, and Simon nudged his friend. When Hans leaned over, Simon said, “Just remember they’re all pigeons or crows,” at which Hans’ smile got larger, “and either way that means they’re hungry. They all want something from you.”

Hans sobered and he looked down at Simon. “Why are you so cynical, boy?”

Simon reached over with his left hand, pulled his limp right hand out of the coat pocket where it had been resting, and held it up between them. Hans’ eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he got the point. His lips tightened and he looked away, but then his gaze returned to Simon’s face and he clapped his hand on Simon’s leg. “Happens you’re probably right, lad, you’re probably right.”

“Yah.” Simon didn’t say anything else, just tucked his useless hand back into its nest and sat staring at nothing, eyes burning but cold at heart. It really had been a rough day.

It wasn’t long after that that the evening’s program began. Herr Pierpoint jumped up on the edge of the ring, bent and stepped through the ropes, then reached over them to take a short rod connected to a wire from his partner Tobias. He held the rod up to his mouth, and began speaking.

“Good evening, and on behalf of TNT Promotions, welcome to our new facility.”

Simon jumped. It seemed like a giant was shouting at him from all directions. He craned his neck around, trying to see where the sound was coming from. Hans pointed at a black metal horn thing hanging from the edge of the roof. Once Simon realized that sound was coming out of that, he next realized there were four of the horn things; one hanging from each side of the roof. He looked at Hans.

“They’re called speakers,” Hans said. “Up-time stuff. They use electricity and make sounds loud, or louder.”

“Oh.”

What would the up-timers think of next?

* * *

“You’re late,” the man Ciclope now thought of as Georg Schmidt hissed. “And where’s your partner?”

“I got your note this morning,” Ciclope said, “but we couldn’t leave the project until close to evening. We have to keep them thinking we’re workers they can rely on, remember?”

The note had directed them to come to an out-of-the-way nook between buildings near the market area where secondhand dealers of everything gathered. They were to bring their “exchanges” with them.

“And I had to send Pietro back for the merchandise. You don’t think we’re stupid enough to carry it around, do you? Especially after the way you browbeat us the last time we met…Herr Schmidt.”

The other man froze for a moment, thereby confirming Pietro’s research.

“What…what do you mean? That’s not my name.”

Ciclope chuckled. It was remarkable how such an innocuous sound could at the same time have such an evil tone to it.

“Oh, come now. Surely you didn’t think you could keep us in the dark forever. You are Herr Georg Schmidt, brother-in-law of Mayor Otto Gericke, bürgermeister of Old Magdeburg, successful merchant—and the man who hired us to come and commit murder and arson on your rivals.”

Schmidt flushed dark red and seemed to swell up. A long moment passed while he looked around, but then settled when he realized no one was close enough to have heard Ciclope. “All right. So you know who I am. Now what?”