The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,21

be in the area until the fair.”

“What services do you offer?”

“Oh, the usual.” The foreigner shrugged. “I cast horoscopes, read palms, and sometimes dabble in a bit of hydromancy or pyromancy—whatever people desire.”

“Pyro . . . what?” Johann was puzzled. “Is that magic? Are you a magician?”

The man laughed again. “Ha, don’t call me a magician! I don’t want to end up at the stake. The church doesn’t particularly like wizards and magicians.” He raised a finger. “No, I’m not a magician but an astrologer. A traveling magister, versed in the arts of alchemy and”—he winked at Johann—“yes, admittedly, also a little in the art of magic, such as it is taught at the University of Krakow. White magic, that is, not black. And now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He left Johann where he was, crossed the barroom, and climbed the stairs. Johann’s head was full of words. White and black magic, alchemy, astrology, hydromancy . . . clearly, this man was far more than just a traveling juggler.

Johann was about to turn away when he noticed something glinting under the table. He leaned down and saw a small knife, about as long as his hand. The handle appeared to be worked from some kind of bone and was adorned with black patterns and lines. The surprisingly heavy blade was wide with a narrow point and sharp as a razor. There was a small hole in the end of the handle.

Johann ran his thumb along the blade thoughtfully. The knife must have belonged to the foreigner. He’d have to give it back—he was no thief, after all. And Johann had a feeling it wasn’t a good idea to steal the blade of a magician. Surely that would bring bad luck. But it was such a nice knife! Why couldn’t he just keep it overnight, or for a few days? The magician would be in town until the fair. Johann could always return the knife to him then and say he found it in the streets.

He weighed the knife in his hand, glanced around furtively, then slid it into the pocket of his jerkin. The weapon felt cool and hot at the same time against his skin, like a burning stone.

Still deep in thought, Johann walked out onto the dark street, and immediately his gloomy thoughts returned. Inside the warm, brightly lit inn, he’d forgotten all about his father and Latin School. Maybe Johann could talk to him again, promise to work harder? School was all he had left!

Johann was about to head for home when he heard a low whistle from a small alleyway. He spun around and his heart leaped with joy. Margarethe! He realized now just how much he had missed her.

“Margarethe!” he called out and ran toward her. “I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore. Didn’t you read the letters I wrote you?”

She held a finger to her lips. “My brother can’t catch us,” she whispered. “Or he’ll tell Father. And he already knows too much about us! They’re trying to keep me away from you because they’re worried about the wedding. Ludwig says if he catches me with you one more time, Father will send me to a nunnery.”

“Your brother can go to hell!” replied Johann grimly.

“Johann, don’t you understand?” Margarethe gave him a pleading look. “I’m supposed to marry! It’s a done deal between my father and the Schmeltzle family. They shook hands on it just a few days ago—as if I were a horse at market.” She paused. “We’ll celebrate my engagement next spring, when I’m seventeen. Old enough, my father says.”

“Then let’s go away from here,” Johann said. “There’s nothing to keep me in Knittlingen.”

“Go away?” Margarethe gave a sad laugh. “And live off what? Your tricks, perhaps?”

“I’ll think of something!”

“Oh Johann, my Faustus,” sighed Margarethe. “I’d love to. Believe me. But there’s no way out.”

He took her hand and felt her shudder. He thought about their time together in the field, only a few weeks ago, how they had almost kissed, and the salty sweat on her skin. “You’ll never find happiness with that man!”

“Happiness?” Margarethe laughed again, but this time tears twinkled in the corners of her eyes. “Who said I’m supposed to find happiness? I must bear his children and be a good wife. His family will elevate ours. The dear Lord never said happiness was part of married life.”

“Margarethe, you don’t believe that. Let’s go away from here. We could—”

Johann noticed Margarethe’s frozen expression and spun around. Ludwig