The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,227

suspicions and rumors spread like a bad smell. The citizens of Nuremberg demanded a culprit—they didn’t care who, just as long as the evil in town was banished.

The uncanny atmosphere affected Johann, too. During his walks through the city he sometimes thought he was being followed. But it was probably just the masks, which were becoming a common sight in the streets in the days leading up to the carnival and which reminded him of a man with glowing red eyes.

His eyes looked like they were on fire.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Valentin asked Johann to the library, looking agitated. Johann’s old friend went to one of the shelves and picked out a book. The book was cut out on the inside and contained a key ring with about a dozen keys. Valentin held it up triumphantly.

“Don’t ask me what it cost to have these made. And I even managed to catch another glimpse of the map with the passageways and draw up a copy from memory.”

Johann exhaled with relief. Valentin had done it! Johann hadn’t really believed it would happen; his friend always used to be so nervous. The thought that Valentin had to steal a closely guarded key ring from the city hall had caused Johann many sleepless hours—hours he spent atop the church tower with his stargazing tube, but without success. The comet he anticipated so eagerly still hadn’t arrived.

“Was it difficult to get your hands on the originals?” asked Johann.

“I . . . I caught an unobserved moment upstairs,” said Valentin hesitantly. For a brief moment Johann thought his old friend was keeping something from him.

“All that matters now is that we have the keys,” said Valentin a little too quickly. “The keys and the map. Did you get everything you needed?”

“Everything but one item. I need you to steal one more thing for me. It’s not very big, and I’ve seen it on the commander’s desk.”

Johann gave Valentin the details, and his friend nodded. “That should be fine—I carry documents to his room all the time. Although the commander is starting to get impatient. He wants to know how your investigation is coming along.”

“Tell him I’m preparing some very complicated magic that will help put an end to these murders once and for all,” replied Johann with a tired smile. “That’s not wholly false, and he is superstitious enough to buy it.” He gave Valentin a thoughtful look. “You can still decide to stay here.”

“I’m coming with you, and that’s my final word.”

“Very well,” said Johann reluctantly. He was left with the strange feeling that something was awry.

“Show me the map,” Johann asked Valentin to take his own mind off his worries. “Perhaps we’ll find a good entry point to the passages. One that’s not under constant surveillance.”

Valentin pulled out the map. “I think I’ve already found one. It’s not the nicest spot, but at least we have nothing to fear there.” He indicated a particular point on the map. “No guards, at least.”

Johann nodded. Valentin had chosen the spot well.

“It’s decided,” he said. “We’re setting out tonight. And if we fail, at least we’ll burn together.”

“Old friends, united in the flames.”

In the infinite vastness of the universe above them, a comet was hurtling along its path. It was nearing Earth like it did every seventeen years, though it couldn’t be discerned by the naked eye. The comet was trailed by a bright fiery, bushy tail.

It was the tail of Lucifer, the light bringer, causer of chaos, he who fell from the heavens. Of the spirit that denies. The gloom that brought forth light.

There was someone who couldn’t wait for this darkness to arrive.

Larua.

Not far from the command, the master closed his eyes, listening. He almost thought he could hear the rushing of the comet through the eight spheres. Then he sat down at a table and wrote messages for his crows and the raven to carry. He was gathering his followers. There were many of them, as many as the number of the beast, and their ranks were increasing.

It was the night before February 24 in the year of the Lord 1512.

A night that would change the world forever.

27

BELOW THE CLOUD-COVERED moon, three figures in dark coats hurried through the lanes of Nuremberg’s Lorenz quarter.

All three wore hoods that concealed their faces. One of the figures carried a cloth-covered crate on his back. The other two—one of whom was limping—carried heavy packs. They looked like itinerant peddlers or knife sharpeners. No one