Grantville Gazette, Volume X Page 22

  "We are at the top of the pass," said Joseph. "There is the Jochkopfl, behind us, on the right, and there the Wurmkogl, ahead on the left." Their tops were lost in the clouds.

  We set up camp under an overhang. Snow started to fall, and we all crowded closer to the fire.

  "Good thing we brought firewood with us," William said. "There is not a branch, or even a twig, up here."

  The next morning, the valley floor was completely white. We put on our crampoons, and continued our journey. The snow sparkled in the sun and crunched under our feet as we walked.

  As the oldest, I was the first to tire and I decided to ride my mule, not lead it. It was a mistake. Off to one side, a small slab of snow slid down with a whoomp. It came nowhere near us, but my misbegotten mule bolted. I held on for dear life, and my companions pursued us.

  The mule halted abruptly at a small declivity; I sailed off the cursed beast and into the hollow.

  The next thing I knew, I was staring up at William and Joseph. I hurt everywhere and I was lying on a bed of snow, quite bemused.

  "What are you doing down here, William? For that matter, how did I get down here?"

  "The mule threw you," he said. "Joseph slid down, and I followed. It was harder than I expected, but I made it to the bottom. Joseph said that he thought you were knocked silly for a moment, but there was deep-ish snow at the bottom and that cushioned you. I was so relieved when you finally stirred. How are you feeling?"

  Samuel yelled "watch out below," and hurled down an alpenstock, the rope tied firmly to it. Joseph picked it up and brought it to me. I looked at it in puzzlement. You take a fall like that and see how quickly you come to your senses.

  "All right, Mister Hobbes. Take hold of this staff with both hands. Your lordship, you put one arm under his and the other on your own alpenstock. Take it nice and slow." He looked up, and raised his voice. "Start pulling now."

  After some pushing and pulling, we made it out of the hole.

  "I think I would like to call it a day," I said.

  Joseph nodded. "Just a little further on is a good place for a camp." When we got there, Samuel stripped the packs off one of the extra mules and transferred them to my erstwhile mount. "I think you would do better with this one, Mister Hobbes. Less temperamental."

  "Thank you, Samuel. Right now I would rather feed my last mule to a pack of wolves."

  William was too keyed up to rest. He found a gentle slope, and practiced the glissade, which is what Joseph called the slide. William held his alpenstock by his side so that it trailed behind him. Then he bent his knees and pushed off. He slid rapidly down, moving the stick back and forth like a rudder, and was at the bottom within seconds.

  "Yahoo!" He ran back to the top.

  I was too tired to protest.

  "He is a true bergler, a mountain man, in the making," Joseph said.

  * * *

  "It is here that I must leave you," said our guide. You follow this stream, it is called the Otztaler Ach, down to Solden, Langenfeld and Otz. Shortly after Otz, it joins the Inn."

  "We don't want to go anywhere near Innsbruck," I said.

  "No problem. You turn left, and go up the Inn valley. Soon you come to the turn off for Imst. It is on your right. It is a market town, so you should have no trouble finding it."

  My plan, as I told William, was to cross the Fern Pass, and descended to Lermoos and Reutte. From there we would follow the Lech downstream to the city of Augsburg. We could rest there a few days and find out what the Swedish and Habsburg armies were up to, and how best to pass the lines. I assumed that we could just join a merchant caravan; trade continued even in time of war, at least when the armies weren't on the move.

  William was still under the impression that we would remain on the great road to Hamburg. It passed north through Nürnberg in Franconia and Erfurt in Saxony, and finally curved northwest to end on the North Sea coast. In fact, after we crossed the Thüringerwald north of Nürnberg, we would swing east to Grantville.

  We said our goodbyes and Joseph, leading two mules, began his return journey. He left behind one alpenstock; William had insisted on buying it. "We might encounter dragons in the Fern Pass," he said. And that's when I learned of Joseph's little tall tale.

  In Imst, we came to a roadblock. Obviously the authorities didn't want the plague carried from Innsbruck to other parts of the Tyrol. They were suspicious of us even though we came from the south; they thought we might have tried to circle around the town. That's when William's alpenstock and pressed edelweiss flowers came in handy, as they were proof that we had come across the Timmelsjoch, avoiding Innsbruck. The Brenner Pass is too low to find edelweiss and not steep or snowy enough to need an alpenstock.

  Nürnberg

  June, 1633

  I watched William as he happily munched on his lebkuchen. He was lucky to find this spiced honey cake for sale, even though it was one of Nürnberg's famous specialties. While the honey was still readily available in the woods surrounding the city, the Thirty Years' War intermittently interrupted the flow of spices into the bakeries.

  Why, Nürnberg itself had been threatened by Wallenstein's army the previous year, until Gustavus Adolphus won the battle of Alte Veste. With American aid.

  This was not, of course, the first time William had heard about the Americans. But Nürnberg was a part of the new Confederated Principalities of Europe, ruled by Gustavus Adolphus and supported by Grantville. We were repeatedly reminded of the influence of the people from the future. For example, William had seen several strange gadgets in the shops, which, said the merchants, had come from Grantville. Others were local copies of "up-time" designs. William showed great interest in these devices.

  One afternoon we decided to visit Nürnberg's tennis court. We were both avid fans. After a hard-fought set, we retired to the gallery. There, William confronted me, this time intellectually rather than physically.

  "Mister Hobbes, I have been thinking. About this Grantville we keep hearing about. It's a city from the future!"

  "That's what we've been told."

  "It just suddenly occurred to me. That they must have history books. And we must be in them! Not you or me personally, of course, but our country. Think what we can learn from them."

  I waited, without saying anything, but I was pleased by his insight.

  "Mister Hobbes, I know you have your instructions from my lady mother, but this is our chance to steal a march on our rivals. As the earl of Devonshire, I must insist we go to this Grantville. You can tell my mother that I forced you to go, that I said that I would go alone if I had to."

  I couldn't help it, I started laughing. When I collected myself, I explained. "It does appear that you have forced my hand . . . to tell you that what you demand has been our goal, our secret goal, all along."

  "What?"

  "This whole trip, although you didn't know it, you have been on the road to Grantville."

  None So Blind

  By David Carrico

  Magdeburg

  January, 1635

  The slap knocked Willi sprawling, eyes watering with pain. He had to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out.

  "Five nothings!" Willi felt Uncle's hand grab the back of his rags and haul him up. The hand shook him so hard he felt like a pea rattling in a cup. "You spend all day on the streets and all you bring me are three pins and two worthless quartered Halle coins!"

  Willi dropped to the floor again. His head was spinning, but his hand had fallen across his stick. He instinctively grasped it, then pulled it to his side. It took a moment to rise to all fours. As soon as his head settled some, he pulled himself up on the stick.

  "I'm sorry, Uncle, but the place where I was, not many people put coins in my bowl." He hesitated. "And . . . and I think someone took money from my bowl. It kind of sounded like it."

  "What? Did you see who it was? Why didn't you stop . . ." Uncle's voice died away as he realized that no, Willi did not see who the culprit was and ther
efore could not stop him. "Hmm. Well . . . I guess that might not be your fault. But you'll have to do better in the future. Here." Something thumped into Willi's chest and dropped to the floor. "That's all you've earned today."

  Willi knelt down again and felt around the dirty floor. Within a moment his fingers encountered what he expected to find—a dried hunk of bread. It was more than he had expected. When Uncle felt he had been cheated, those in his family were more apt to receive curses and blows than blessings and food. Willi gathered the bread up. He would go hungry tonight, he knew, for it wasn't much more than a crust.

  It took Willi a moment to peer around and figure out from the play of light and dark which way his corner was. It took some time to make his way there, stepping with care and feeling his way with his stick. At least none of the family was in a mood to push things or plant feet in his way in the hope he would trip tonight. In the last four years, he had provided that entertainment many times, often falling helplessly to the ground with cruel laughter ringing in his ears.

  Willi's blanket was still where he had left it, wadded up behind an old trunk so that no one would notice it. Threadbare and full of holes though it was, he did feel warmer with it wrapped around his shoulders. The winter was not even half over, and he felt like he hadn't been warm since forever.

  The bread was eaten slowly, one small bite at a time; partly because it was so dry and hard that it took a lot of chewing to make it possible to swallow, and partly to make it last longer. It would at least give Willi the illusion of having enjoyed a full meal—a most uncommon experience in his short life.

  The last bit was being swallowed as Willi heard someone coming toward him amidst the noise of the other children chattering and yelling. He cocked his head to one side, then smiled as he recognized the step. "Erna," he said.

  "How do you know that?" the girl demanded as she took his hand and with care set a small pottery cup in it. "How do you always know it's me?"

  "You walk different." Willi sipped the water in the cup.

  "But even when I try to sneak up on you, you still know it's me."

  Willi held his hands out and shrugged. That caused water drops to splash out of the cup, and he licked them from his hand. "I don't know how. I just do."

  He felt her plop down beside him. "So where were you today?" she asked.

  "By the cathedral."

  "The cathedral? No wonder you were so late getting back. You'd better not let Uncle know you went there. He's told us more than once to stay away."

  "Well, I won't tell him, so if you stay quiet he won't hear, now will he?"

  Erna swatted his arm. "Why did you walk so far? Weren't you afraid of getting lost?"

  "I've heard Fritz and Möritz talk about it, so I knew the way there. I hoped the folk coming out of the church would give alms, but they were as cold as the building itself. And what they did give, someone else took."

  "That really happened?" Erna leaned close.

  "Yeah. Someone tossed a coin in and then someone else snatched it back out before it stopped ringing. It was so fast I felt nothing, saw only a dart of shadow." It wasn't the first time that Willi had cursed his ruined sight. It wouldn't be the last.

  "Well, next time take someone with you, to watch over you."

  "Who? You?"

  Willi was knocked sideways by her punch on his shoulder. "Yes, me. I can watch from a ways away and make sure nobody robs or cheats you."

  Willi shrugged. "If you want to. But how will you earn your bread if you're near me?"

  "Uncle's been teaching me some new stuff. I'll manage."

  Willi wanted to ask what new stuff, but just then Uncle called out, "Lights out." As usual, his stinginess with lamp oil was getting the lamp blown out at the earliest moment.

  Erna left amid the sound of scurrying around. A moment later she was back. "Lie down and I'll cover us." Willi curled up on his left side facing the old trunk, wrapped his arms around his stick and hugged it to his body. He felt the weight of first his blanket, then hers, covering him. Erna wiggled under the blankets and put her back against his.

  The two of them were too small to gain a space close to the fireplace and its few coals—Uncle not being any less stingy with the firewood. Those went to the older, harder children; older than Willi's eight years. Forced into the outer part of the room, they had learned that if they shared their blankets they stayed warmer than if they slept alone. Even so, there were many nights that they shivered together as the cold cut through the meager coverings.

  Erna went to sleep as soon as she stopped wiggling to find the right position. Willi was kept awake by his growling stomach for some time, but at length he drifted off.

  * * *

  The next morning Erna ripped the covers off of Willi. "Come on! It's daylight. If we don't get out there, we won't get anything." She barely let him use the chamber pot, and then they were in the street. "So, where to this morning?"

  "Not near the cathedral, that's for sure." Willi pondered. "How about Zenzi's? I haven't been there in a few days."

  "Zenzi's it is. C'mon." And so, stick in one hand and Erna tugging on the other, Willi was towed to one of his favorite places, a bakery that was several blocks away.

  "Here we are," Erna announced in triumph. "You want your usual spot?"

  "I can find it." Willi pulled his hand away and reached out to touch the front of the building, then walked along the front to where a beam jutted out. He put his back to that bit of corner and settled to the ground with a sigh. Reaching inside his ragged jacket, he pulled his bowl out and set it on the ground in front of him. He leaned back against the corner, set his stick against his shoulder, settled to wait for opportunity.

  Erna crouched in front of him. "Lean forward."

  "What?" Willi was confused.

  "Lean forward, I said."

  Willi did so. He felt a band of cloth cross his eyes and get tied behind his head. "What did you do that for?" His hand fumbled at the cloth, only to get slapped.

  "Leave that alone." Erna leaned close enough that he could feel her breath on his face. "Willi, you can't see. But the people can't tell that unless they get a really good look at your eyes. This way they can tell right away and you'll most likely get something from them."

  "But I can see!" Willi's voice broke, to his embarrassment.

  "Willi." Erna's voice was full of pity, which only deepened his embarrassment. "It's been almost four years. You only see light and shadow. You try to see more, and all you get is more falls and more of those bad headaches. Just wear the rag. You'll feel better, and you'll make more coin, too." Willi heard her sit back. "I'll be up and down the street, doing my thing and keeping an eye out. Won't nobody dip into your bowl without my seeing it."

  "All . . . all right," Willi choked out, feeling as if he was giving up on his dreams to see again.

  Erna patted his cheek, for all the world like she was the mother he could hardly remember instead of a slip of a girl not much older than him. "That's my Willi. I'll keep watch." He heard her stand and walk away.

  Willi sat in his darkness. The rag soaked up his tears.

  Magdeburg

  February, 1635

  The two men with sergeant stripes on their sleeves marched into Frank Jackson's office, stopped in front of his desk, then saluted smartly—or as smartly as a couple of West Virginia hillbillies with no military service could manage.

  "Cut it out," Frank said in a weary tone. "Bill, shut the door. Siddown, both of you." He looked at Bill Reilly and Byron Chieske. "We," Frank emphasized that word, "have a problem. You guys are going to help solve it. You know who Otto Gericke is?"

  The two men looked at each other. Byron shrugged. Bill turned back to Frank. "He's some kind of mucky-muck here in Magdeburg, right? Burgomeister, or something like that?"

  "Yep, he is; one of several. He's also the engineer appointed by Gustavus to rebuild Magdeburg. And a more thankless task I can't imagine." The other two men nodded in agreement. "But whe
n he's wearing his burgomeister hat, he's the only one of the city council who can pour water out of a boot even when the directions are written on the heel. As a consequence, he's the one who's in charge of anything important, including the city night watch. And he's asked for help in upgrading them into something resembling a police force."

  Bill looked to Byron again. Byron looked puzzled. "So why doesn't he approach the admiral for some help from that investigative unit he set up?" Although there had been pretty wide-spread deprecation of the "NCIS" unit at first, after a few successes in investigating some crimes, including a bloody double murder, no one thought they were a joke now.