Читать книгу The Grand Dark онлайн | страница 68

This time Largo’s smile was genuine. He took the money, kissed her, and ran out of the building, where he hailed a cab. “The Theater of the Grand Darkness,” he said. “And hurry please. I’ll pay extra.”

“No need, sir,” said the Mara.

Largo sat back as it took off through the foggy morning streets.

That was humiliating, asking for money, he thought. At least there will be more tips today so I can pay Remy back. Then it will be payday soon. But I can’t go on like this if I’m going to convince her to move in with me.

Largo wondered about Remy’s health and whether it had been a good idea to leave her with a full bottle of morphia. He decided that as soon as he had any tip money, he’d call her from a public Trefle.

There was nothing to do but stare out of the window as the cab made its way through the city. Chimeras ate street trash as usual. Drunken couples weaved their way home, also as usual. Posters covered the sides of tram shelters. Ads for the cinema. Antigovernment broadsheets. A faded sign for a performance by Anita Mourlet, billed as the Madonna of Depravity. Largo sighed. It was all so ordinary and dull. And slow. He wondered what time it was.

When the cab finally stopped in front of the Grand Dark, Largo tossed the money Remy had given him to the Mara and dashed out. Thankfully, his bicycle was where he’d left it behind the theater. He unlocked it and sped off to work.

He stayed off the main streets because he knew that they’d be crowded at that hour. He went down trash-strewn alleys and cut through the ruins of buildings that had been hit by stray bombs during the war. Largo went all the way out to the bay and pedaled down the causeway where ships were unloading. Fishermen and scowling dockworkers stared at him. He ignored them as usual—while the route was longer, the empty streets meant he could make up a lot of time.

He steered back onto city streets in the butchers’ quarter. Blood pooled on the cobblestones and ran in little clotted rivers down to the sewers. There was a small plaza nearby where old men and young boys had carts where they cooked meat from the shops and sold pieces of it on long yellow skewers. Normally Largo could find a shortcut through it, but today he found the far end blocked—by, of all things, a traveling carnival.