inns, he took them to his room. Johann suspected the books were very old and very valuable.
Tonio steered clear of larger towns and cities, which sometimes meant long detours. When Johann asked the master about it, he shook his head.
“People around here aren’t always favorably inclined toward chiromancers and astrologers,” he said. “They’re a rough, superstitious people. Some think we’re sorcerers or necromancers. I don’t want to end up burning at the stake—even though it’d be warmer than this goddamned Allgäu in this weather. Damn the cold!”
Toward the middle of December, they were hit by the worst snowstorm Johann had ever seen. Icy grains stung them like needles, the wind tore at their coats, and visibility was so poor that Johann sometimes feared he’d gone blind. Drifts of snow piled up on the road, and several times Johann had to climb off the wagon with a shovel to clear their path. They barely made any progress, and behind every bend was another drift. The storm howled as if it were laughing at the little mortals below.
In the afternoon, the wagon became stuck in a deep rut. It took them over an hour and many failed attempts to pull it back out. The horse whinnied and shook the snow from its mane. The old nag didn’t look as though it would last five more miles.
“Damn, if I didn’t have you slowing me down, I’d long be across the Alps and in the warm countries of the south,” groused Tonio, his voice carried off by the howling wind. “We are traveling much too late in the year. But no, I must explain to you even the simplest coin trick again and again! Thank God I know an inn not far from here where we can spend the winter. Come on, now! Or do you want to freeze your ass off here?”
He jumped back on the box seat and cracked his whip. The horse moved forward reluctantly. The thought of spending the next few weeks beside a cozy fireplace made Johann feel a little warmer already. Finally this journey through snow and ice would come to an end. They would celebrate the birth of Christ with a steaming mug of spiced wine at a tavern. Perhaps he’d even get to sleep in a bed and be granted a look at Tonio’s books.
It was long after darkness had fallen before they finally saw the lights of a village through the driving snow. Mountains like black giants rose behind the lights, silent and insurmountable. Tonio urged the horse on, and half an hour later they’d reached the first houses. A large inn with stables and several outbuildings was situated in the village center. The buildings were arranged around a courtyard, forming a small fortress with only one gate for an entrance.
“The Black Eagle,” Tonio said with a grin and climbed down from the wagon. His mood had improved drastically during the past hour. “The best inn between Kempten and Innsbruck. I spent a winter here once before. Their rooms are tidy and the straw beds fresh, with hardly any fleas or lice. And the wine and food aren’t bad, either. Even a real-life emperor once stopped here on his pilgrimage to Rome.”
Johann caught a glance inside through the crown-glass window. He heard music and laughter, and the warm glow of the lamps looked inviting. Shivering, he rubbed his almost-frozen fingers and couldn’t wait to warm himself with a cup of hot wine. Tonio knocked at the gate, and soon a voice answered.
“Who wants to enter the Eagle at this late hour? You can’t be a post rider, because you didn’t blow the horn.”
“The honorable master Tonio del Moravia, astrologer and chiromancer, scholar of the seven arts, requests admittance,” replied Tonio loudly. “He is on the search for winter quarters and willing to pay good money and offer up his legendary skills!”
They heard a few shouts inside, then hurried footsteps. A bolt was pushed back and an obese, bald man wearing an apron appeared in the gate. He eyed Tonio and Johann from small, piggy eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously.
“I’m the innkeeper,” he said haltingly. “And I’m afraid I must tell you that you can’t stay here—not for the winter, anyhow. You may consider yourselves our guests until the morning.”
Tonio’s smile froze. “And why is that?”
“Well, how can I put this . . .” The innkeeper kneaded his apron. “I’m afraid you’ve come too late, honorable master. We’re already putting