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Though Josef walked the same path to the publishing house routinely, he kept his eyes trained at his feet where the footpath cracked and split.
The roughly cobbled streets of Penzförde were notoriously mangled, with stones jutting out like crooked teeth. It was an improvement from his hometown, he supposed. 'Road' would have been a generous term to describe the dusty foot-worn paths of Griesberg.
He turned the corner onto Laufer Avenue. This early in the morning a thick fog hung in the air, smudging the buttery light of the streetlamps and draining the colour from the already desaturated buildings that clung the frayed edges of the streets. It was like walking through an oil painting of greys and beiges, all the city's hard edges softened by the morning's gauzy light.
But if a year in Penzförde had taught Josef anything, it was that appearances were deceiving. He ducked his head as he passed a man in a bowler hat, hand tightening around the meagre possessions that he kept in his left pocket. Josef hadn't always been paranoid, but he was a fast learner.
As he walked, his idle mind drifted to the previous night's conversation. He thought of Klaus' adamant belief that they were being head-hunted, ratted out by a buyer to the Stadtguard. Daria had accused him of jumping to conclusions, "The world isn't always conspiring against you, Klaus Herzfeld."
Josef hadn't wanted to pick a side. Not before he had all the facts at the very least. He believed that drawing conclusions without substantial evidence was groundless and so he had sat comfortably on the fence. Klaus' argument was not completely out of left-field like Daria had made it out to be, however. Klaus had been living in hiding since before Josef had known him, so in that sense, it was somewhat fair to suspect at least part of the world was conspiring against him in some capacity.
Josef passed a parked car, sleek and silver. Cars were uncommon, a fairly recent development in the automobile industry, and this one screamed of wealth. Unsurprisingly, painted on the side was the dark seal of the Council, a blackbird perched within a circle, wings pressed to its sides. Josef thought of the pin Klaus had shown them. When Daria left, after halting the conversation entirely, Josef had pressed Klaus about the pin. Klaus knew nothing about it. His mother had never told him what it meant but had given it to him all the same. It was a peculiar puzzle, but Josef decided to clear his mind of it for now.
He jogged up the steps to the publishing house, scanning the streets for unwanted onlookers until he was satisfied he was not being watched. From the outside, the publishing house appeared to be uninhabited, fallen into disrepair from years of abandonment. The sign above the door that had once read Kant & Wicker Publishing in a grandiose typeface had become a crumbling ghost of unintelligible lettering.
K n & Wi ker Publ shi g
Josef reached into his pocket and retrieved the small key Daria had crafted for him, sliding it into the lock. Daria had designed the lock and matching keys so that the mechanism would only work if the key was turned by its rightful owner. It was a small bit of magic that delighted Josef as much as it comforted him.
