The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,43

want to find the murderer, just wait and see which blade the flies choose. They smell the blood even if we can’t see it anymore. Interesting, don’t you think?”

The magician looked just like Johann remembered him. Tall and haggard, with a narrow face and eyes as black as charcoal. Only he didn’t look as pale today—his cheeks had a rosy glow, and his lips were red and full. Tonio placed the dagger back in his belt. Then he adjusted his felt hat and studied Johann. “So we meet again. Shouldn’t you be at home with your family?”

Johann remembered the dark figure at the back of the inn. Tonio must have sat there earlier and watched him. Evidently he, too, was traveling along the imperial road.

“I . . . I no longer have a family,” Johann replied and, still in shock, continued to stare at the dead monk and the growing puddle of blood on the ground. Tonio raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re worried because he’s an honorable man of the church,” he said, “he isn’t. Or rather, he wasn’t. He was a scoundrel, a tramp, and a thief, like most people here.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Didn’t I give you a knife? Why don’t you use it? You really ought to be more careful—the imperial road is full of scum. You can consider yourself lucky that I was here.”

“Th . . . thanks,” Johann whispered. He felt terribly faint all of a sudden. Everything went black before his eyes, and he braced himself against a beam.

“It looks like I helped you out once again,” the magician said. He grabbed Johann by the arm and pulled him farther into the stable. Now Johann saw the familiar wagon and horse.

“Climb in the back,” Tonio commanded with a low, sharp voice. “Before they come to check the stable.”

Trembling, Johann climbed into the wagon. It was dark inside and he couldn’t make out much, but it seemed to be lined with chests, and bunches of dried herbs hung from the canvas ceiling. The smell was sweet and sickly. The magician flicked the reins, and the wagon went rumbling out the open gate into the pouring rain.

“This time, you owe me more than a small favor,” Tonio said over his shoulder as they drove out of the village in the dim light of dusk. “And I think I know just how you can repay your debt.”

They rode in silence for the next few minutes. Johann expected the angry mob to pursue them at any moment, or the fat merchant on his horse. But nothing happened. Johann was shivering with cold; his already damp clothes had become soaked again when he’d escaped through the rain. He still couldn’t believe what had just happened. He’d almost been killed and he’d lost all his money! Even the staff he’d carved for Martin once upon a time—his last reminder of his brother—was left behind at the inn.

But the worst part was the memory of the casual ease with which Tonio had slit the monk’s throat, like a butcher killing a calf. Then he remembered with horror that the false Franciscan had been about to stab him to death for a pouch of rusty coins. How stupid he had been to think he could travel all alone, without a companion, a writ of protection, or a horse! He’d almost paid with his life for his stupidity.

The wagon squeaked and bumped along. Through a slit in the canvas, Johann could make out Tonio as a dark outline. Evening had turned to night, and the rain gradually eased off.

Once Johann’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, he could make out more details inside the wagon. There was a lowered section in the middle that was covered with brushwood; he guessed that was where Tonio slept. What Johann had thought were chests turned out to be bench seats with storage space underneath. The cage holding the two crows and the raven dangled from the ceiling among the herbs. The large, rusty cage swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the wheels, the raven watching Johann out of almost human eyes. The crows shuffled nervously from side to side on their perches, as if they sensed danger. For the first time Johann could study the birds more closely. The raven frightened him the most. It seemed to be quite old, with some feathers missing and a beak that was scuffed and jagged at the edges. There was something sly in its gaze.

Suddenly,