The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,252

ring, and he was running out of breath. If only he had—

The knife!

Frantically he fingered for the knife under his robe—the same knife that Tonio had given him long ago. He found it, ripped it off, and cut the rope.

Fresh, life-giving air streamed down his throat.

Johann looked around, trying to grasp the situation. Karl was still grappling with Poitou, but the young man’s strength seemed to fade. The giant’s eyes sparkled devilishly.

“C’est la fin et le début,” he snarled. “Bienvenue en enfer!”

At that moment, as the crowd howled and raved and the cannon next to Karl exploded into a blazing shower of red sparks, a profound calmness spread inside Johann. And even though he knew that only a few seconds passed by, he felt as though time were stretching out forever.

Greta’s fearful eyes behind the mask . . . The knife cutting through her ties . . . Poitou’s angry outcry . . . The blade in Johann’s hand, as cold as ice . . . One last calculating look, then the throw—the one throw he had been waiting for all his life.

The knife cut through the air like an arrow.

Then the blade entered Poitou’s left eye without a sound.

“An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,” breathed Johann.

With a gasp of surprise, Poitou collapsed against the wall of the tower, felled by the knife of his master. His remaining eye stared lifelessly at the raven and the two crows circling in the blue sky above them. The birds cawed loudly; it sounded like laughter. Then they flew off.

The spectators hadn’t yet realized what had just happened. Johann grabbed Greta under her arms and dragged her toward a ladder. The witch’s mask slid to one side, and her pale face appeared beneath it. She was no longer unconscious, but she wasn’t fully in her right senses, either.

“What . . . ?” she muttered. “Who . . . ?”

“Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll get you out of here,” said Johann softly.

Meanwhile, Karl had thrown one of the masked men by the cannon over the balustrade, but part of the tower had caught on fire from the shower of sparks. The dry timber crackled and smoked—so it would all go up in flames. Costumed men stood leaning over the dead Poitou; someone was shouting for help.

“Quick—take Greta on your back and let’s get out of here!” shouted Johann.

Karl looked confused for a moment, but then he recognized the girl.

“The hell,” he whispered. “You were right, Doctor.”

He heaved the girl onto his back, and she clung on as he scrambled down the ladder. Johann followed. The soldiers and other masked men were too busy with the fire to notice them.

As chaos erupted all around them, they pushed their way through the crowd, away from the elephant, which by now burned like a giant torch.

The farther away they got from the main square, the quieter the streets became. It seemed as if the whole of Nuremberg was watching the grand finale, and they hardly saw a soul as they rushed through the lanes. Karl still carried Greta on his back. She sighed from time to time and cried out, barely aware of what was going on around her. Johann suspected that Tonio had also given her a potion, but unlike him, she hadn’t eaten ash. What sort of nightmares were torturing the girl right now?

As Johann looked at his daughter, he felt a fire burn in his heart unlike anything he’d ever felt before. And he felt relief. It was as if he’d paid an ancient debt. But then the pain and the fever returned. His whole body started to tremble; the fight with Poitou had drained the last of his strength. His bandage and the robe were torn. He dragged himself over the cobbled streets like a walking corpse, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he’d collapse. And this time he wouldn’t get back up.

“We . . . we . . . must leave town,” he gasped. “Tonio . . . He’ll be looking for us . . . His . . . his followers will tell him what happened.”

Karl didn’t reply as he carried Greta through the lanes. Sweat was pouring down his face, and he was bleeding from a wound on his forehead. His strength, too, was coming to an end; he stumbled more than he walked. He stubbornly stared straight ahead to where the lane was ending in a small market square near the Hospital of the