The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,245

through the bluish crown-glass pane.

They were back on the surface.

Shaking with fever, Johann looked around. The door was so smoothly set into the wall that it was almost invisible from the outside. A narrow walkway lined by columns led into another room. Elegant oak chests with veneer decorations lined the walls, and gold and silver cups stood on a table in the center. Karl opened one of the chests and gasped. Reverently, he held up a gemstone-studded cross—clearly a monstrance.

“We’re in the inner sanctum,” he whispered. “The sacristy of the Sebaldus Church. The masked men probably took Greta the same way.” Karl put down the cross and looked around. “Hmm. Somewhere in here should be . . .” He opened another chest, rummaged around for a while, and, grinning triumphantly, pulled out two musty-smelling priests’ robes. “Ha, I knew it. We’ll hardly find a better disguise inside a church.”

With much difficulty, Johann pulled on one of the robes, the hood scarcely concealing his poorly bandaged face. He was still shaking, but at least he felt a little warmer. He could tell the fever was still spreading, however.

When Karl had also put on his robe, he gave Johann a questioning look. “And now? What is your plan?”

Johann closed his eye. He wanted to put off the moment when he’d have to admit that he had no plan. The renowned and wise doctor was nothing but a poor, half-blind fool.

“You . . . you said before that they were taking Greta to the church,” he said. “Did they say anything else? Any particular place—anything at all?”

“The leader only yelled that they ought to take the girl up to the church. I guess they went into the city from here. Nuremberg is a big place.”

Johann sighed and reached for the tabletop to brace himself. “Then . . . then let’s go into the church, at least. Maybe we’ll find a clue as to Greta’s whereabouts.” But even while he spoke the sentence, he knew how helpless he sounded.

They walked down another walkway, crossed another room, and came to a door whose bolt had been left open. Slowly, Karl opened the door.

The nave of the Sebaldus Church lay in front of them. The sacristy wasn’t far from the altar with the silver chest containing the relics of Saint Sebaldus. The slanted light of dawn fell through the tall glass windows and bathed the many columns, arcades, and side chapels in an unearthly light.

There were no churchgoers yet, but it couldn’t be long until morning mass. Farther back, an old sexton was sweeping the floor. He was hunched low over his broom and didn’t notice the two strange priests.

Johann looked around desperately.

He saw nothing. No clue, nothing.

Greta had disappeared from his life as suddenly as she’d entered it.

Karl gently touched him on the shoulder. “I know you want to find this girl for your friend,” he said. “But you must see that it is pointless. They took her away hours ago. She could be anywhere by now.”

“We must look for her,” muttered Johann. “Look . . . for her . . .” The fever and the potion made him feel so heavy, so awfully heavy.

“Listen.” Karl paused. “When I told you they didn’t say anything else about where they were taking the girl, I wasn’t telling the whole truth. The leader shouted something else—it was rather hard to understand. But I think he said, ‘Take her up to the church and then . . .’” Karl swallowed. “‘And then straight to hell.’”

“To hell?” asked Johann, his voice shaking.

“To hell.” Karl nodded. “Those were his words. I didn’t tell you earlier because I can see that the girl means a lot to you. But I think it’s safe to assume that they killed her. But we survived! We only have to go out the church door and—”

Johann slid down against a column, his consciousness fading.

To hell.

Karl crouched down beside him with concern. “You must think about yourself now, Doctor. Forget the girl, forget—”

“I can’t forget her, damn it!” shouted Johann with his last strength. Then he managed a hoarse whisper. “I can’t forget her. She . . . she is my daughter.”

Karl gaped at him. “Your daughter? But how?”

Then Johann passed out.

Deep down below, a lock clicked open and Valentin Brander spoke his final prayer.

Crunching footsteps approached, and then he was picked up like a rag doll. Underneath his bandage, a smile spread across Valentin’s face.

They haven’t noticed.

There must have been four of them. He could