The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,3

out of his hat. Johann was so captivated that he almost forgot to breathe. He’d never seen anything like it. This man was a real magician! He’d cast a spell on all of them.

At last the show was over. The foreigner took a bow and strode gracefully off the stage. The acrobats took his place and started to perform their tricks. But no matter how high they leaped, no matter how many somersaults they tumbled, Johann now found their show dull. He had seen true magic, had caught a glimpse of another world beyond the earthly world he knew! And now it was already over? Johann trembled with disappointment. Not even Margarethe’s presence cheered him up. She was still beside him, holding his hand. The funny harlequins and jugglers seemed to appeal to her much more than the scary magician had.

“How did he do it?” muttered Johann again and again, mostly to himself. “How did he do it? How did he make the raven and crows fly up, and where did the cat come from? What’s his secret?”

“Ravens, crows, black cats—I told you he’s in league with the devil,” groused Margarethe without taking her eyes off the jugglers. “And now hush or I’ll have nightmares about that man. Brr! I only hope he leaves town today.”

Johann was shocked by the thought. If the mysterious stranger left town today, Johann would never find out what lay behind his tricks! He looked around. Where had the man gone? Johann couldn’t see him next to the stage, where the other jugglers waited for their turn. Had he already left?

Johann let go of Margarethe’s hand and made his way toward the stage. Margarethe was focused on the acrobats and didn’t even notice him leaving. He turned left and walked around the church. It was much quieter away from Market Street. A blind beggar tapped his stick along the dirty cobblestones; a drunken man vomited in a corner. No one else was in sight. Gray autumn fog seeped through the lanes. It almost seemed to Johann it was thicker here than on the other, busier side of the church. Viscous.

Then he saw the wagon.

It stood a little off to the side, next to the empty town hall, and was covered with a dirty canvas embroidered with strange symbols and runes Johann couldn’t read. A tired-looking old horse was munching on barley from a bucket tied around its neck. On the wagon’s outside wall above the box seat hung a large, rusty cage that held two crows and a raven. The cage creaked and swayed when the birds moved.

How did he do it? How did he make the raven appear?

Entranced, Johann walked toward the birds as they flapped their wings restlessly. What if they were enchanted? He tiptoed quietly toward the cage, reached out his hand—

“If you’re hungry, let me warn you: those birds are tough. And they dissolve in your stomach and return to me, their creator. You wouldn’t find them very satisfying.”

Johann spun around and looked into the face of the pale magician, who was standing right behind him, looking down at him. How could he not have noticed the man approaching? Was that another spell?

The man frowned at first, then his lips twisted into a smile. Johann saw small, sharp teeth, like those of a predator.

“Oh, it’s the boy from the front row.” The man’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I could have fitted a barn inside your gaping mouth.” He leaned down to Johann, who thought he could smell a faint waft of sulfur. “How old are you, boy?”

“I . . . I’m eight,” Johann said hoarsely, feeling very uncomfortable. He thought the air suddenly grew much colder; it felt like the middle of winter. The music and noise from the fair seemed to come from far away, as if from the other side of a heavy door.

“Hmm . . .” The man tilted his head to one side, just like the birds in the cage beside him. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he straightened up to his full height.

“And what’s your name?” he asked abruptly.

“I . . . My name is Johann Georg, son of Jörg Gerlach, the farmer,” replied Johann. “But my mother calls me Faustus.”

“Faustus, I see . . . What a beautiful yet strange name.” The man gave a quick smile. For a moment Johann thought the stranger’s black eyes flashed, like sheet lightning behind storm clouds. “Then I’m sure you know the meaning of this Latin