Maris spoke in English, but Frau Noot understood that one word and looked at her with shocked eyes.
Getting off the Number 5 tram at Kochgasse, Maris took my hand and stopped me.
"You really had to tackle him?"
"Yes. I think he would have ended up jumping out the window or something if I hadn't. He was totally out of control. What number is that? The place should be on this block."
"What happened after he went down?"
"The woman wanted me to leave, but he wouldn't let go of my arm. So I hung around awhile and sort of petted him till he calmed down. Then I took off."
"Are you going to go back?" She was walking fast to keep up.
"I don't know. What more could I get from them? Moritz had a beautiful son who's autistic. His mother says it's due to Kaspar Benedikt's powers, and there's nothing to disprove that."
"Kaspar Benedikt's dead."
"Let's hope so. Unfortunately, it's beginning to look like something of him lives on."
The street was narrow and cars were parked bumper to bumper all the way down it. We passed a Turkish bakery and several other small stores before reaching the address. At first we didn't realize we were there because Benedikt und Sцhne had disappeared. In its place was a modern stationery store. Maris and I looked at each other and stepped closer. The window was full of Garfield and Peanuts pencil cases and school notebooks, Mont Blanc ink bottles, pocket calculators, and portable typewriters. I looked harder, knowing something was there, that something had to be there.
It was. In the lower left-hand corner of the window was a large decal that advertised "Mr. Pencil sold here!"
"Look at this." I tapped the decal with my finger and Maris gave a little gasp.
"How'd he know about that?"
"Let's find out." Pushing the door open, I walked in, half expecting to see the wild man on the bicycle behind the counter selling graph paper.
A very attractive middle-aged woman was behind the crowded counter talking on the telephone and smiling. She saw me and quickly got off.
"Good day. Can I help you?"
I looked at her a long moment. "Yes, I'd like to buy a Mr. Pencil. Or some of them, whichever you've got."
Her smile went from friendly to confused. "Excuse me?"
"The thing you have advertised in the window outside, Mr. Pencil"?
"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean. Could you explain what it is?"
"Um, why don't you come outside with me and I'll show you what I mean."
She came around the counter and I held the door for her. We almost bumped into Maris coming in.
"She doesn't know what Mr. Pencil is."
"Interesting."
"It's over here. This decal."
"I've never seen that before! I don't even know who put it there."
"You're sure?"
"I should know – I own the store and do all of the decorating! I've never even heard of Mr. Pencil. Is it an American product? What is it?"
"How long have you had the store?"
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because one of my relatives used to have a tailor shop here, Benedikt and Sцhne."
"Then you should know what happened to the Benedikts. My father bought the store from the widow, and we've been here ever since. Did you want to look at the store, or buy this Mr. Pencil thing? You still haven't told me what it is yet."
"Have you ever met any of the Benedikt family?"
"No. It's cold out here and I have to go back inside. Is there anything else you would like?"
Maris spoke. "Is your father still alive?"
The woman looked fed up with us. "Yes."
"Does he ride a bicycle and have a beard?"
"No! He's blind and is retired in Weidling. Excuse me now."
She left us there. As she was about to go back into the store she stopped. Turning, she went to the decal on the window and pulled it off with one long, dramatic zip. Crumpling it in her hand, she looked at us and dropped what was left of it on the ground. I was going to pick it up, but what for? There would be others. That was about the only thing I was sure of.
"What do you remember first? The first thing you remember about your whole life?"
"Papa, you always ask me that. I don't know. I told you."
"Come on, you must remember something."
"Why do you always want to know?"
"Because I'm your father. I want to know what's in my son's head. The more a boy can remember, the more grown up he is."
"What do you remember?"
"How beautiful your mother was. What a nice voice she had."
"I know that. I think I remember when she sang to me. When I was a little baby."
"See, you do remember things. What else?"
We were walking in the forest. Papa said we would be near Vienna by the end of the day, but I was already tired. I asked him to carry me again, but he said I was too big to be carried all the time. I was almost bigger than him.
I liked the forest, but most people stayed away from it because they were afraid of what was in there. Not Papa and me. He said we were magic and nothing could hurt us. He said nothing could kill us, either, because we were so special. We were from someplace else. I didn't remember where, because I was just a little baby when we had to leave.
I didn't want to tell him because it was my own secret, but the earliest thing I remembered was being carried out of the city where I was born on Papa's back, and looking at all the castles and towers. I think he was running, because I remember going up and down and up and down, and maybe I was crying because I was scared. I remember the castles and the towers and horses and people all over the place.
I also remember my mother leaning over my bed one night and crying because there were so many names in the world and she couldn't find the right one. She had long red hair and I think my bed was made out of gold.
"Do you remember how they tried to stop us? Maybe that was too long ago for you."
"Tell me again. I like that story about how we ran away together."
"All right. Your mother was the queen and she was very beautiful. But her heart was white and cold as a star. She didn't keep her promises. That's one of the worst things in the whole world a person can do."
"That's very bad. I keep my promises, don't I?"
"Yes, you do, Walter, and I'm very proud of you for that. If you promise me you'll go get wood, you always do it. That's a very important quality in a person. Don't ever forget it."
That made me feel good. "But Papa, if you loved Mama so much, why did you take me away from her?"
"Because she loved only herself. Her heart was only big enough for one person. She would have made you sad your whole life. When I first met her, she was a poor girl who would have done anything to be rich. She got her father to lie to the king and tell him she could make gold out of straw."
"You can do that. I've seen you."
"But normal people can't. Your mother thought she would be beautiful enough to make the king forget about gold when he saw her. And he thought she was beautiful, but he loved gold more. That's what got her into trouble in the first place."
"The king was my first father, right?"
"Yes, but your first father isn't always your best father. He was as cold and greedy as your mother. That's why they fit so well together. I knew that if they ever did have a child, the only thing they would like about it was that it was theirs, like their gold. When it grew up, they wouldn't treat it any differently than a ring or a bracelet. When they weren't wearing it or showing it off to the world, they'd throw it in a drawer and forget about it."
That made me mad. "But you said Mother loved me!"