smallpox to cholera!" The old man coughed, and Asher remembered that Fairport had had tuberculosis-and smallpox-as a child. His milk- white skin was still marked with it, like ancient chewings of mice.
He did not look well now. But then, Fairport never looked quite well. Thirteen years ago, when he first met Fairport, Asher had been surprised when Maxwell- then head of the Vienna section-had told him the doctor was only fifty- four. Prematurely stooped, prematurely wrinkled, prematurely white-haired, he had the air of an almost-invalid that Asher did not consider much of an advertisement for his sanitarium.
The Viennese apparently thought otherwise. They flocked to the isolated villa and paid huge sums for "rest cures" and "rejuvenation" by means of chemicals, electricity, and esoteric baths. Looking down now at the bent little man beside him- even straight he wouldn't have topped Asher's shoulder by more than an inch- Asher wondered if Fairport's preoccupation with reversing the effects of age was part of his fury at the encroaching dissolution of his own body.
Fairport must be nearing seventy now, calculated Asher, and forced himself not to offer his help as the old man hobbled along the pavement. His face had the shrunken exhaustion of years, his hands-encased as always in the gray cotton gloves he bought by the dozen, washed after wearing once, and discarded weeklytrembled uncontrollably. Lydia, he found himself thinking, would have diagnosed something or other on the spot.
Even under clouds, Vienna had the air of brightness he recalled; the clifflike labyrinths of buildings cream or gold or brown with their pseudomarble garlands, their putti and grimacing tragedy/comedy masks; gilded ironwork, tiny balconies, great somber doors guarding flagstoned courtyards inside.
A short distance along the Ring a smart brougham drew up beside them, the black body of the closed coach varnished and gleaming, its brass hardware polished like gold. A big man wrapped in a coachman's long coat and muffler sat on the box, frowning under a simian brow ridge while a footman, equally tall, sprang from the rear platform to open the door. Asher reflected that the sanitarium must be doing well if the old man could afford this kind of turnout.
"You'll want a hot bath and a good rest, I daresay." Fairport gestured away his footman's proffered arm with a wave of his cane. "Thank you, Lukas... I've telephoned Halliwell-he's the head of the Vienna section these days, do you remember him?-to let him know you're in town, but this evening, if you're feeling up to it, will be early enough."
Asher considered. It was mid-morning, the mists from the canal barely diffuse in the bright air. Though they stood on the threshold of winter, the cold seemed not so raw as that of London or Paris, the damp not so bitter. The air had a soft quality, like rose petals. In the Volksgarten a few hardy citizens sat behind the line of chain and potted trees that demarcated the terrace of a small kaffee haus, and Asher had a flashing recollection of true Viennese coffee and the concentrated sinfulness of a Creme Schnitten. Fruhlingzeit Sanitarium, isolated among woods and vineyards, was restful and silent but about an hour's drive from the outskirts of the town.
"If you don't mind," Asher said slowly, "there are things I need to do here. Someone I need to trace, without delay."
"Karolyi?" Fairport's almost hairless white brows formed little arches in the fish- belly forehead. "His addresses are quite well known. A town house in Dobling and a flat on the Kartnerstrasse... I assume you're not interested in that ancestral castle at Feketelo in the Carpathians..."
"No." Asher shook his head. "No, someone else, someone whose name I don't know. And it may take me a little time in the Rathaus to find the records."
He knew it would have to be done, and his mind leaped ahead, calculating how long it might take and when the sun would set. He thought he would have time to do the thing in safety, but with an almost subconscious gesture he rubbed his wrist to feel, through glove and shirt cuff, the protective silver links.
"If I may abuse your hospitality so far, I think what I need to do is, first, find myself a public bath and get cleaned up, then start my search in the records office. How late might I come out to Fruhlingzeit without disturbing anyone to let me in?"
Fairport smiled, a dry little V-shaped quirk. "My dear Asher, this is Vienna! My staff remains active until