The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,72

to suggest as much. Johann didn’t like the way they’d spoken about him—like a precious object. What were their plans for him?

He listened intently to the strange-sounding conversation, trying to understand anything at all. The words diable and réunion were mentioned several times and sounded familiar, but other words sounded harsh and throaty to him, like garache, béliche, and bête bigourne. Johann couldn’t make any sense of it, and he sank deep into thought.

Following the gruesome execution in the morning, he and the master had returned to the inn, where Johann told the master he wanted to study. But in truth he’d needed some time to think. He owed the master a lot. Tonio had taught him so much already, and he’d teach him more still.

On the other hand, Johann grew more afraid of Tonio every day. He was repulsed by the glee with which the master had watched the execution—he’d enjoyed it, even. But worse still was the suspicion Johann harbored deep down—that Tonio was somehow responsible for both the execution and the fire at the Black Eagle Inn. Could it be possible? Johann remembered the three pieces of coal Tonio had placed at the Black Eagle’s threshold, muttering incantations, and also the bloody pentagram at the tower. Were there symbols and formulas that could conjure up lightning and flames, and even kill someone? Or had everything just been a series of unfortunate coincidences? But the coincidences were piling up, and Johann struggled to believe in them any longer.

As if the master had read his thoughts, he paused in his conversation and looked over at Johann. Like an alert wolf or lynx, he seemed to detect something, but then he smiled.

“Look, the boy studies even now,” he said to Poitou in French. “He’s truly insatiable.”

“Then I’m sure he’ll like what we have planned for him,” replied Poitou with a laugh.

Johann gave a grin, even though he hadn’t understood a word, and then returned to his book. He was scared of the big Frenchman—but not as scared as he was of Tonio.

On top of everything else, earlier he’d discovered that someone had rummaged through Johann’s few possessions in their room upstairs while he’d been out. For a brief moment, Johann had suspected the two crows and the raven, who always watched his every movement from their cage. Then he realized how ridiculous the thought was. Nothing was stolen, but nonetheless he decided to wear his little knife on a leather string around his neck from now on, underneath his shirt and jerkin, where Tonio couldn’t see it.

But supposing the master actually was a sorcerer—why should he care? Tonio was his teacher, and he’d find none better in this world. What were Father Antonius’s superficial knowledge and Father Bernhard’s awkward attempts to study the stars compared to the arcane arts, the ancient knowledge about “that which the world contains in its innermost heart and finer veins,” as Tonio had put it not long ago. Johann guessed black magic was a part of it. He felt certain the master would teach him about it someday. Johann’s nightmares and twinges of conscience were simply the price he had to pay. Perhaps that was exactly what that strange Latin phrase Tonio always recited was supposed to mean.

Homo Deus est . . .

Perhaps God didn’t lead man’s way, but everyone was responsible for their own path.

Meanwhile, the innkeeper had brought them platters of roast piglet with slices of deliciously fragrant white bread, and a serving of wild onions and carrots in a steaming herb sauce. The men ate ravenously, pausing the conversation. After eating in silence for a long while, Tonio burped loudly, wiped the juices from his lips with the last bit of bread, and leaned back contentedly.

“I haven’t eaten like this since the Battle of Patay, and that was a long time ago,” he said. “Just what we needed to strengthen us for what comes next.” He turned to Poitou. “Is everything prepared?”

The man nodded. “All is ready, milord. You are expected. Although some of them said we should wait till Krakow.”

“We don’t have time,” snarled Tonio. “The stars are favorable right now. Who knows how long it would take us to get to Krakow. I don’t want to risk it. We’re doing it here—that’s my final word!”

Poitou looked at Johann, who had hardly eaten anything and seemed to be focused on his book again. But he was listening to every word. So were they not going to Krakow at all now? What