The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,186

university. Instead—” Karl hesitated.

“Instead what?” asked Johann quietly, pouring himself another glass.

“Instead you travel the lands in a rickety wagon and fool people with those . . . those images, with magic potions, and false horoscopes. They call you a necromancer and a quack. Yes, you’re widely known, but you’re not respected.” Karl sighed. “To be honest, I think your name—and therewith mine—will soon be forgotten again. So tell me, why do you do this to yourself?”

Johann took a sip. He said nothing for a long while, staring into the goblet in front of him, the wine gleaming red as blood. He felt a strong urge to empty the goblet again and hurl it against the wall. But he restrained himself. Instead he leaned back and studied his assistant with amusement.

“Anyone else and I would have thrown the wine at your face for such insolence, but I think it is your right to receive an answer.” He leaned forward. “Do you know what I hope? I hope they lock me up one day. I long for that day, even though I know it will never arrive.”

“Lock you up?” Karl looked puzzled. “But why? I mean—”

Johann cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Not as a necromancer and sorcerer, silly, but as a fraudster. You know very well that everything we’re doing here is fraud. And the people know it, too, but they don’t want to see it.” He laughed softly. “They want to be spellbound; they want to believe that the devil really exists. Because only if the devil exists does God exist. And so they play along, buy our magic potions, and let themselves be frightened by our glass images. And as long as they do, people like you and me are free to do as we please. It’s our task in this world. We act the devil so God can exist.”

“Don’t you believe in God?” asked Karl with a frown.

Johann hesitated. “Let us imagine there was no God,” he said eventually. “Then there’d be nobody to put a stop to our evildoings. After all, our laws are all based on God. There’d be no rules and everything would be allowed. All writings, all thinking . . . a tempting thought. I myself have spent much time on that idea. Too much.” Johann stared into the distance for a while before going on. “Chaos would reign, because nothing would make sense any longer. We would be all alone in the universe without any solace, and without hope. That’s how I imagine hell. In my darkest hours I sometimes think we’re already in hell, only we haven’t noticed.”

“And if there is a hell, then there is a devil,” replied Wagner.

“Oh yes, he exists.” Johann took one last, long sip and stared into emptiness. “He exists. He just isn’t quite the way we imagine him.” He put down his goblet abruptly. “Enough of these gloomy, useless thoughts! It’s about time you improved your chess playing. So far it’s been rather sad.”

Johann reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the square board with the chess pieces. He had carved them himself, during long, sleepless nights, from horn and alabaster. He placed the board on the table and started to sort the pieces like he’d done a thousand times before.

But Karl wasn’t looking at the board. Instead he was gazing out the crown-glass window, where thick snowflakes had begun to tumble from the night sky.

“What is it?” asked Johann.

“Oh, nothing. Only . . .” Karl hesitated. “When we spoke of the devil before, I thought I saw someone standing outside the window. A man dressed in black. He seemed to be looking at us—watching us. And his eyes, they . . . they were burning like fire.”

“A man dressed in black? And now you think it was the devil?” Johann laughed. “My dear Karl, you’ve got a greater imagination than I gave you credit for. Most likely it was just a student who wanted to see the great Doctor Faustus up close. Or it was a black cat.” With a thin smile, Johann held up the two kings. “Which do you want to be? Black or white? These pieces right here are real, unlike some shadows outside the window.”

Johann didn’t let it show, but Karl’s comment had rattled him more than he cared to admit. Because he, too, had glimpsed a figure in the snow outside.

A man clad in black.

And now you think it was the devil.

Johann cast a furtive