Ascension by Steven Galloway

been purchased by the agent of a local collector, a rich man whose name was known not only in Budapest and Hungary but throughout Europe. László had already gone to his landlord and paid two years’ rent in advance for the apartment, as well as paying off his and Esa’s debts. Most of the down payment was gone now, but there was a little left, enough for a good celebration, and then tomorrow when the agent came to collect the soldier he would receive even more money, the equivalent of nearly three years’ salary at Sándor Glassworks.
    He returned the soldier to its box, replacing the rags and paper that protected it. He carried the box to the far corner of the front room and laid it down in the corner. Then, as clearly as he ever had before, László smiled. He had a treat in store for the family, his way of showing them that he was not always a hard man. He told everyone to change into their best clothes as quickly as possible. Leo and Salvo rushed to obey, and he refused to answer even Esa’s questions as they changed, telling her that she would see when they got there. When everyone was ready, László led them out of the apartment, down to the street. They rode the electric streetcar into the inner city of Pest. At the terminal for the subway that ran underneath Andrássy Avenue was Gerbeaud’s, the famous pastryshop, but László wouldn’t allow them to stop. There was no time, he told them. Perhaps on the way back.
    Salvo’s regard for the subway was the same as it was for the rest of his life in Budapest. He enjoyed it because it was unlike anything he’d ever encountered elsewhere, but he could never quite shake the feeling that there was something wrong with it, that even though it took him to places he’d never been, it somehow also confined him. On the subway you were forced to go where it took you. A part of Salvo knew that his father would have hated this underground train, and Salvo did not like that he didn’t entirely agree.
    The subway took them under the city, northeast, away from the Danube, towards City Park. As they walked past Heroes’ Square, the sound of a crowd became more and more concentrated, until they reached the bank of the lake and there it was.
    By most standards it was a small circus, an outdoor troupe of no more than ten people, who made their living by performing in various public areas throughout Europe. People stood and watched the show, as there were no seats save for a few scattered park benches, and a small boy, who was at the very most six years old, circulated through the crowd with a hat that people put change into.
    Salvo stood beside his aunt and watched as two clowns performed a series of slapstick follies with a ladder, one climbing up the ladder while another briefly held it and then pretended to get distracted, letting go of the ladder and sending the other clown flying. The audience gasped, and then, realizing the performer was unharmed by his fall, laughed as the aggrieved clown chased his unreliable assistant, swinging wildly at him with the ladder. Even Salvo was forced to laugh.
    Next came a man and a woman who juggled flaming torches between them, first two, then three, then four, until they had eight flying through the air separating them. Then they switched toknives, demonstrating the instruments’ sharpness by slicing through a paprika tossed into the air. As the knives reached their maximum speed, a third woman came and stood directly in the path of the darting blades, calmly eating the two halves of the bisected paprika. The crowd cheered when they stopped and the woman emerged unscathed. People tossed coins into the child’s hat freely and without hesitation.
    Strung between two tall poles, twenty feet above the ground, was a wire. The audience’s attention was directed upwards, and a man wearing tight pants and a sleeveless shirt stepped onto the wire. As the man moved slowly and tentatively across it, Salvo felt his chest tighten. The man moved