The Chosen Ones. Scarlett ThomasЧитать онлайн книгу.
broth with a spoon until he saw that his uncle was dipping his hands in it. So he did the same. The waiter then brought small black velvety towels for Maximilian and his uncle to dry their hands. The next thing that came was a huge bottle of champagne.
The meal that followed must have cost a fortune. First, Maximilian and his uncle were brought large plates with a dozen oysters on each one. Maximilian copied his uncle, who would pick up an oyster, put a few drops from a bottle of red liquid onto it, then tip the contents of the shell into his mouth. The oysters were cold, slimy, fishy and somehow the most delicious thing Maximilian had ever tasted. He could easily have eaten a dozen more.
Next came a bright yellow soup. After that the waiter brought small bowls of crushed pink ice that tasted of herbs and fruit. Then, with a great deal of ceremony, the main course arrived. It was a whole boar’s head, complete with eyes and teeth, and surrounded with cherries, almonds and raisins. A jug of thick black sauce was presented along with it.
After the boar there was another herb sorbet, then a plate of thick, oozing cheeses with black, sticky bread. They reminded Maximilian of the most interesting meal he had ever eaten, which had taken place a long way from here. But perhaps this was now becoming the most interesting meal he had ever eaten. It was certainly the nicest by far. After the cheese came small, quivering custard tarts that tasted faintly of vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg.
Meister Lupoldus ate slowly, as if he were considering each mouthful carefully before swallowing it.
‘So, you are to be my new Apprentice,’ he said, after he had finished his last custard tart and removed the enormous linen napkin that he had tucked into his frilly collar.
‘Yes, Meister,’ said Maximilian.
‘You desire to be a great mage?’
‘Yes, Meister.’
Meister Lupoldus nodded seriously. He nodded some more. Maximilian waited. His uncle seemed to be on the verge of saying something extraordinarily important. But then it became clear that he had fallen asleep. Maximilian wondered what to do. Waking his uncle would be the same as admitting he knew he was asleep. Maximilian had a feeling that the Meister would not want to be caught napping.
Maximilian considered flicking water at his uncle. Just as he was about to do so he found the waiter was looking at him sternly. Then his uncle woke up anyway.
‘Where was I?’ he said.
‘You were telling me how to become a great mage like you, Meister,’ said Maximilian.
‘Was I? Ah, yes. What skills do you have?’
Maximilian considered this.
‘I think I can read minds,’ he said.
‘You can do WHAT?’
‘Read minds. And sort of change them.’
‘At your level? IMPOSSIBLE. What else?’
Maximilian thought there was little point in telling his uncle what he could do if his uncle was simply going to tell him what he’d said was impossible. But he couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he carried on.
‘I almost went to the Underworld,’ he ventured.
‘ABSURD.’
‘I’m quite good at reading and research.’
‘That’s BETTER.’
‘I don’t mind doing difficult things.’
‘EXCELLENT. And have you yet been initiated into the way of the magus?’
Maximilian shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Good. We will initiate you soon, if I find you pleasing. If I do not find you pleasing, you will be executed. Now we must go.’
Maximilian followed his uncle back through the garden in something of a daze.
Outside, Franz was doing a handstand.
Maximilian wondered whether his uncle was going to shout at his servant, but so far he had not said anything at all mean to Franz. Franz looked at Maximilian and Meister Lupoldus from his inverted position and then slowly lowered his legs to the ground and stood up.
‘Your carriage awaits, sir,’ he said.
‘We will walk for a while,’ said Meister Lupoldus. ‘I desire to touch the poor.’
Maximilian was still trying to process the news that he might be executed. Surely he’d find some way of avoiding it. Perhaps he could run away? What sort of uncle would execute his nephew anyway? Surely not the sort of uncle who was now walking through the thin, dimly lit streets gently touching the arms and legs of any people he encountered. There were scrawny young children in rags, and women who wouldn’t have looked out of place in a workhouse Christmas pantomime. There were also a lot of thin, muscular men who obviously worked all day long and now looked very tired. The Meister touched them all as he passed. As he did so, he looked curiously peaceful.
‘What’s he doing?’ Maximilian asked Franz.
‘He is draining them,’ said Franz, matter-of-factly.
‘Draining them?’
‘He is taking their energy. He needs it for his magic, and for his digestion, which has been troubling him lately.’
‘But—’
‘I agree it is not a nice thing to do, if that’s what you were going to point out.’
‘But why choose these people? Some of them look as if they don’t have very much energy in the first place.’
‘Because they don’t complain. Their lifeforce is purer than the rich. And also because he likes it when they die.’
‘What?’
‘He gains great pleasure from killing the weak. It’s easier when they don’t have much lifeforce. He likes doing it to animals as well, because they are also easy. Well, most of them. Once he drained a strong, fully grown man and it took all night. But that was not for his energy, rather to punish him.’
For almost the first time in Maximilian’s life, he felt quite afraid.
‘We’re almost there,’ said Franz. ‘Don’t let him see you talking to me.’
‘Why not?’
But suddenly the thin cobbled street ended and Franz led the way into a large marbled square. All the buildings around the square were extremely impressive, but one loomed over all the others. OPERA HOUSE, said its ornate golden sign. Franz stood aside so that the Meister could make an entrance. After dinner he had seemed sleepy and dulled, but now he appeared magnificent. His eyes were bright and his skin gleamed. He was brimming with the pure lifeforce of the poor he had touched. It was a terrible and awesome sight.
Maximilian followed his uncle and Franz up red carpeted stairs. Everything around him was luxurious and beautiful. The ceilings were painted with images from heaven and the walls were decked with silk, gold brocade and exquisite paintings. There were marble pillars and vast chandeliers. But that was just the entrance hall and the staircase.
The inside of the opera house was like nothing Maximilian had ever seen. Everything was gold and covered with angels. There was a central seating area, just like in a normal theatre – not that Maximilian had ever been to the theatre, but he’d seen pictures. Around this area were the opera boxes: velvet-lined private cubicles from which the most important patrons could watch the performance without any disturbance. Each one was held up with gold pillars which were decorated with carvings of naked cherubs and what must have been ancient gods and goddesses.
Meister Lupoldus took his seat in the best box in the place and gestured for Maximilian to sit next to him. Franz sat just beyond the Meister. The orchestra began warming up and, even though they were not yet playing any actual music, the notes sounded deep and pure. Franz developed a quite dreamy look. Meister Lupoldus looked