The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,58

Are the flames bright red, or blue, or perhaps purple? Do they climb high or are they dying down? Does the smoke rise in a column or is it a cloud of stinging fumes?”

Sometimes, when the sky was clear to the north and the air icy cold, they went outside and studied the clouds, which were getting caught in the mountaintops like sheep wool in a comb. There was much to be learned from them. The master explained to Johann the various shapes of clouds and what kind of weather each one indicated. They watched the flight of a hawk, studying his wide, lofty circles above the forest. At dusk, when the sun disappeared behind the glistening snow and turned it as red as blood, Johann watched the play of colors, mesmerized, while the master explained the different hues of a rainbow.

“Everything has a deeper reason,” Tonio said in conclusion, gesturing at the trees, the mountains, and the horizon to the north. “Nothing is without a plan. And when you recognize that plan, the world lies before you like a naked whore.”

To Johann’s infinite relief, the master no longer asked him to practice the bagpipe. Johann suspected Tonio wanted to spare his own ears. And perhaps he was afraid the noise might attract prying eyes from the nearby village. The accursed instrument stayed in its chest; Johann hoped it would remain there until it rotted. He didn’t find much time to practice throwing his knife, either. He was too busy with other things now.

Saint Thomas Night—the longest night of the year—came and went, and soon it was Christmas. In Knittlingen, there was always a Christmas mass followed by a long, cozy evening together, singing and celebrating the birth of Jesus. Johann used to enjoy this day as a child. His mother had been a good singer, and his father—in a generous mood thanks to several cups of mulled wine—used to be a little nicer to him. Johann wondered how Tonio would mark the feast day. But the master didn’t look like he was going to celebrate at all on Christmas Eve—he neither prayed nor sang. Instead, he sat in his chair by the fire with a grim look on his face, leafing through an old tome full of tables and drawings. Johann could hear the bells of the village church from over a mile away. He guessed the people were on their way to mass.

Johann cleared his throat and addressed his master. “It’s Christmas,” he began awkwardly. “You . . . you aren’t particularly religious, are you?”

The master frowned and closed his book. “Just because everyone else sings and cries and turns all sentimental about a Jewish urchin doesn’t mean I have to join in with such nonsense.”

“So you don’t believe in anything?” asked Johann, incredulous. He’d never met anybody who spoke like the master. Such talk was a certain road to hell—and to a crackling fire beneath a stake, if anyone heard it.

“Oh yes, I believe.” The master grinned. “I believe in higher powers, much more strongly than you can imagine. Most of all, however, I believe in the power of stars. They never lie.”

“Then explain them to me,” begged Johann. “I’ve been waiting for so long.”

Palm reading and the other manticisms had been interesting, and Johann still didn’t fully understand what had happened when he’d sensed Rafael’s death. But he’d been eagerly anticipating the day the master would introduce him to the art of astrology. He had a thousand questions, and until now, the master had always evaded them.

Tonio sighed; outside, the bells continued to toll like a cry for help from afar. Eventually, he gave a chuckle. “The hell with it. Maybe today is just the right day to begin the study of astrology. After all, those three old fools also followed a star.”

He opened the book he’d been reading and pointed at strange circles covered with drawings and runes.

“The spheres of Ptolemy,” Tonio began and traced the individual circles with his long finger. “More than a thousand years ago, this Egyptian divided the heavens into hollow spheres carrying the celestial bodies, which circle around the Earth, producing some kind of lovely music. A load of nonsense, if you ask me—I’ve never heard any music coming from the stars. But Ptolemy gives us a good basis to work with. In actual fact, astrology is much older still, dating back to the Babylonians, who also used to practice many dark and desirable rites.”

“What do all these symbols mean?”