However, in the mass euphoria that gripped Lower Proszawa after the armistice, the repressive politics of the war years dissolved. People threw parties in the streets, social mores became more progressive, and art for its own sake came back into vogue. At the same time, the price of the war became more and more obvious. The art school that had birthed Xuxu had been destroyed. Thousands of wounded soldiers returned to the city. The economy was in tatters. Everything but heavy industry, such as Schöne Maschinen, and cheap distractions, such as the cinema and theaters like the Grand Dark, was in danger of collapsing. From these tangled ruins, a new Xuxu took form.
While the first generation ignored the presence of Maras and chimeras as bourgeois contrivances, the new Xuxu incorporated them wherever it could. The artists kept some of the magic rituals from old Xuxu and incorporated Maras, chimeras, and generals into the Pantheon of Malignance. During this period, several Iron Dandies became active members of the group, though none rose to fame because of the public’s unsettled attitude toward them. Detlef Lutz was one such soldier-artist. His solo exhibition at Gallerie Buchner, which was called a sensation by many of Lower Proszawa’s art critics, sold only a paltry few pieces. Hopeless and destitute, Lutz soon committed suicide in perhaps the greatest Xuxu act of them all: He’d wired a stolen Mara to bayonet maquettes of politicians in the group’s magic rituals. At one performance, he stepped in front of the Mara so that his creation stabbed him in the heart. His artistic “sacrifice” was quickly incorporated into the work of other Xuxu members, many of whom made fortunes from his death. Enki Helm was one notable example.
As a child, Helm had lost his sight in an accident when a runaway juggernaut struck a tram in which he was riding. His handicap made him an object of artistic fascination, much like the disfigured Dandies, and he became a public leader in this new generation of Xuxu.
It should be noted that while Helm’s work was popular with galleries and collectors, he was never truly respected by most of the movement’s other artists. Considered a curiosity and a social climber, he was not only privately laughed at but eventually added to the Pantheon of Malignance.
Whether that addition was a result of professional jealousy or a genuine distaste for Helm’s work, it didn’t matter. His fame continued to grow and eventually other artists had to admit that Helm’s watered-down Xuxu was better than no Xuxu at all. But the laughter never stopped.
If Helm was aware of it, it was something he never acknowledged.
Chapter Twelve
HIS NEW CLOTHES WERE STILL WET IN THE MORNING, SO HE LEFT THEM hanging in Remy’s bathroom and put on a set of his old ones that he’d left at her flat. He took a tram to the Grand Dark and stopped outside. There was a police car across the street. He watched it long enough to make sure that it was empty before going around the theater to the stage door. It was unlocked, so he went into Remy’s dressing room and changed into his new work clothes. On the way out, he walked straight into Una. She lurched back and yelled, “Shit!”
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s me, Largo.”
There were only a few lights on backstage and Una stared at him uncertainly. “It is you,” she said after a moment. “What are you sneaking around for, scaring the piss out of me?”
“I’m sorry. I left some clothes here last night and I need them for work.”
“How did you get in at this hour?” said Una.
“The stage door was unlocked.”
“It was? Someone is getting their ass kicked for that.” She looked at the door, then back at Largo. “In the future, whether the door is unlocked or not, knock. I’m here all the time, so I can let you in. But if I’m not here or busy, you’ll have to fend for yourself. I’m not running a boardinghouse.”
“I understand,” he said. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Scared is only the half of it. I almost called my visitors on you.”
“Visitors?”
“Never mind. I’m busy and it’s time for you to go.”
As he left, Largo wondered who Una would be meeting with at five thirty in the morning. He doubted that many art patrons were awake at this hour. He looked at the police car. But why would Una be talking to the bullocks at this hour? Whoever it was inside, he hoped that he hadn’t gotten Remy in trouble.
Largo got his bicycle and pedaled into traffic. Last night’s adventure at the theater, and now his encounter with Una, left him too tired and fed up with the world to take a circuitous path to work. With the knife back under his jacket, he thought, Fuck Andrzej, and rode straight to the company.
Margit wasn’t at work that day, but Andrzej and Weimer were. Even though he’d arrived before the other couriers, Largo remained at the back of the room, where he could keep an eye on them. Parvulesco stood with him.
Largo said, “Have you seen Margit this morning?”
“No,” said Parvulesco. “I’ll let you know if I do.”
“I’m worried because she told me about how some of the others don’t like her.”
“You think someone did something to her?”
“I don’t know. I’m just worried.”
From the front of the room, Branca said, “Largo and Parvulesco, will you be in conference all day or are you able to join the rest of us for your normal duties?”
“We were just discussing the weather, sir,” said Parvulesco. “They say it might rain again today.”
“This is Lower Proszawa. It might rain every day, or have you just arrived in our fair city? In the future I suggest you check the weather in the yellowsheets so that we might all get on with our work. Is that satisfactory for you?”
“Yes, sir. Very much.”
“Delightful,” said Branca. “From now on, if any of you want to know whether to wear your galoshes I’m sure our two weather mavens in the back will be happy to tell you.” The other couriers laughed at Largo and Parvulesco for being singled out.
“Now, down to business,” Branca continued. “Some of you may have noticed that Andrzej and Weimer have returned to the fold. While this is good news, you might also have noticed that several of your other coworkers are absent. This is unfortunate in that it means the rest of you will have to take up the slack.” Voices groaned. “I know. These are difficult times for all of us. However, consider this. While you will have to take over some of your compatriots’ deliveries, you will also be getting their tips.” Branca looked around the room. “No more moans? Good. Then let us get started.”
The couriers lined up for their first packages of the day. Largo remained at the back of the line, watching as Andrzej and Weimer left with their deliveries. When he and Branca were alone, the older man said, “You seem tense today, Largo. Is anything wrong?”
“No. I just wasn’t expecting to see Andrzej back so soon.”
“Yes, he was quite injured, but he’s a strong young man and more dedicated to the job than I previously gave him credit for. We’ll need him over these next few days, I suspect.”
“Have you seen Margit?” said Largo.
“I have not, nor have I heard from her. As I said, she and several of your coworkers have chosen to be absent with no word why or when we might expect them back.”
“Maybe I should check on her.”
Branca looked up from his desk. “You know where she lives?”
“No. I thought that I might ask around and see if anybody else knew. Unless you want to give me her address.”
“The company isn’t in the business of giving out its workers’ personal details.”
“Naturally. I’m sure she’ll show up soon.”
“I wish I were as confident as you. Still, we mustn’t give up hope for her swift return.”
A Mara lumbered out of the back room with a package for him. “Will I be doing extra runs too?”
“I’m afraid so. However, for the chief courier, the number will be small.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Branca handed him a receipt book. “I haven’t said i
t before, but you’re doing a quite adequate job. Keep up the good work.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Largo put the book and the package in his shoulder bag and went outside. The couriers stood in a semicircle with Andrzej and Weimer in the middle. The group looked up as Largo came out. There was no way he could get to his bicycle without passing through them, so he walked down the steps as calmly as he could, trying to recall everything Roland had taught him about using his knife. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t remember a word of it.
When he reached the ground, Andrzej walked briskly in Largo’s direction. Something came back to him then. He turned his body almost sideways. It makes you a smaller target, he remembered. When he reached under his jacket for the knife, Andrzej stopped and held up his hands in front of him.
“Truce, Largo,” he said. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“Then what are you and Weimer up to?”
“Nothing,” said Weimer. He walked to Andrzej’s side. “We wanted to apologize.”
That caught the other couriers by surprise as much as it caught Largo. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
Andrzej lowered his hands. “I know. And you have no reason to. But I wanted to say that whatever happened between us before won’t happen again. And that I’m truly sorry.”
Largo kept his hand near the knife and said, “Why?”
“Because I had time to think about it and how stupid I was. And because I almost died. It occurred to me what a complete waste of a life it would be if I died over a ridiculous thing like an argument.”
“All right,” said Largo. He pointed to Weimer. “What about him? Does he suddenly want to be my friend too?”
“No,” said Weimer coolly. “I know you don’t trust me and I don’t blame you. I doubt we’ll ever be friends, but I want you to know that I’m also sorry for my behavior. And I won’t bother you again.”
The other couriers looked at one another, disappointed that there might not be a fight after all.
“Why should I believe either of you?’ said Largo.
“I know I can’t prove anything through words,” said Andrzej. “So, I’ll do my best to stay out of your way until you see that I mean what I said.”
“Me too,” said Weimer.
Largo lowered his hands from the knife. “All right. You can start by moving away from my bicycle.”
Andrzej and Weimer stepped back, and the other couriers moved with them. Largo went to his bicycle, but as he got on something occurred to him. “Did either of you do something to Margit?”
“Not me,” said Andrzej, seemingly confused at the accusation.
Weimer shook his head. “Me neither.”
They both sounded sincere, but Largo couldn’t be sure. He said, “I’m going to check on her. If I find out that either of you is lying I’ll send you to the hospital myself.” With that, he rode away. He wanted to turn around and see if anyone was following him, but he knew it would make him look weak. He’d threatened Andrzej and Weimer in front of witnesses. By Haxan Green rules, it meant that he couldn’t back down. This wasn’t at all how he wanted things to turn out, but it was too late to change that now. The difference was that this time he knew he could defend himself. Margit, on the other hand, was a different matter. The only place he knew to look for her was Machtviertel. As much as he was ready to take on Andrzej or Weimer, he wasn’t sure if he could stomach another ride to the Black Palace. Pietr was a lot more frightening that a couple of bully couriers. He decided that for now he would wait and hope that she returned on her own.
Don’t make me go out there, Margit. I’ll buy you a whole new bicycle if something happened to yours. Just don’t make me go back.
Branca had been telling the truth when he said that the couriers would be making extra deliveries. The sun was going down by the time Largo finished, but his pockets were heavy with silver and a few small gold coins, so that helped his mood considerably.
After he turned in the last of his receipt books, he went to Fräulein Sabel to call Remy on the Trefle.
Inside, raucous music was blaring from an amplified gramophone. The trip had been for nothing. He wouldn’t be able to hear anything above the noise. He went into the men’s room to calm his nerves, wishing he had morphia with him. On the way out, he stopped at the bar and ordered a whiskey. While waiting, he watched the happy mob that filled the café. The chairs and tables had been removed from the center of the room so that people could dance. Couples whirled around the floor. Men and women. Men and men. Women and women. They were a common enough sight, but tonight the dancers reminded Largo of the brash joy of Anita Mourlet’s performance. He suddenly felt very provincial and he wasn’t sure why.
As much as he had wanted to see Anita’s forbidden show, he’d also been a little frightened. But of what? Maybe just the sight of a world he didn’t know. He hated the idea that he’d been afraid, but for once he was being honest with himself. So much of my life has been controlled by fear. Fear of Remy growing bored and leaving. Fear of losing his job. Fear of not losing his job and working for the company forever. Fear of getting his life so wrong that he had to return to Haxan Green and be buried in some rich man’s abandoned barn.
Does Remy see my fear, or have I fooled her? And if I have, how much longer can I keep it up? She wants to expose more of herself to the world and I want to hide. I can’t go on like this, but how does someone change so drastically?
Largo decided to ask Rainer. He paid for his drink and was heading outside when he bumped into Parvulesco and Roland coming in. “Want a drink?” said Parvulesco. “It’s on me. Branca was right. All those extra runs put a lot more silvers in my pocket.”
Largo said, “Thanks, but I’m on my way to see a friend.”
“I told Roland how you faced down Andrzej and Weimer today.”
“Good for you,” Roland said, “squaring off against two men like that. It was brave.”
“Not really. All they did was apologize for being such a pair of bastards,” Largo said.
“But you didn’t know that. You were ready to fight and you stood your ground. Be proud of yourself, you dolt.”
Largo thought about it. Was not accepting that he’d been brave part of his relentless fear? “I suppose. Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course he’s right,” said Parvulesco.
“Still, there was something strange about the whole thing.”
“Such as?”
“Someone I know, an artist named Enki—”
“Enki Helm? The painter?” said Roland. “You know him? I love his work.”
“Really? I can’t stand it. Anyway, we’re not really friends, but I know him a bit.”
“If you can, I’d love to meet him.”
Largo looked down at the street. “I’m not sure that’s possible. The point I was making is that he disappeared and came back a changed man. And now Andrzej and Weimer are back and they’re different too.”
“Do you think it means something?” said Parvulesco.
“I don’t know. But I do know that we all have to be careful. Ernst, the editor at Ihre Skandale, told me there’s a new gang in town kidnapping people for ransom.”
Parvulesco said, “It’s funny you say that. A couple of men dragged me off my bike the other night. If Roland hadn’t been there I don’t know what would have happened.”
“Do you remember what they looked like?” Largo said.
Parvulesco thought about it. “Not really. But why would someone kidnap me? Roland and I don’t have any money.”
“I don’t know. Like I said, it’s strange.” He looked at Roland. “There’s something else. The reason I can’t introduce you to Enki is that I think he has the Drops.”
“Shit,” said Roland. “It feels like it’s everywhere these days.”
Parvulesco said, “Did you see it happen?”
“Yes,” said Largo. “It was last night after Anita Mourlet’s performance—”
“Yo
u know Anita Mourlet too?” said Roland, impressed. “Fuck, Largo.”
“Hush,” said Parvulesco.
“He fell in the street. So did a couple of women I helped after the fire,” Largo said.
“You helped some women with the Drops and you’re friends with Helm, who also has the Drops. Are you sure you aren’t infected too?” said Parvulesco thoughtfully.
“I don’t think so,” said Largo. “A doctor I know told me I have a sort of immunity.”
“How does he know?” said Roland.
Largo looked around nervously. Fear again. “It’s because I take morphia.”
Parvulesco looked at Roland. “I told you we should try it.”
Roland rapped a knuckle on the table. “I’m not putting that in my body for any reason.”
Parvulesco rolled his eyes. “Such a choirboy.”
Roland said, “Tell us about Mourlet. Is she as mad as people say?”
“Madder,” said Largo. “But I’ll have to tell you tomorrow. I need to see my friend Rainer.”
“Tomorrow then,” said Parvulesco. “Have a good night. And take your own advice—be careful.”
“I will.”
Largo took a tram across town and rode his bicycle only the last few blocks. As he pedaled the final long street, he saw groups of old men out late whitewashing over propaganda posters. Largo touched his pocket. Even with the money, he didn’t like paying the tram fare, but it was better to be safe.
Or am I wasting money by giving in to fear again? On the other hand, maybe certain kinds of fear are sensible.
It’s all so fucking complicated.
He made it through the web lock on Rainer’s door and went upstairs. Rainer was at a telescope, watching the north. Always the north, thought Largo. He’s going to go mad if he stays in here forever.
“Hello,” he called.
Rainer’s voice came through the wireless horn. “Hello, Largo.”
“Did I startle you?”
Rainer turned away from the telescope. “No. I know your footsteps by now.”
Largo brushed some dust off the top of one of the sofas. “Do you have time to talk?”
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