The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,102

a god.’ She flung open both doors of the kitchen cabinet and performed an elaborate bow.

Echo was totally unprepared for the tidal wave of odours that burst from the interior and surged over him. The garden cupboard containing the ‘more evil-smelling’ plants had smelt like a perfumery in comparison. But this was not a wholly disgusting smell like that of Ghoolion’s banqueting table. What came wafting out of Izanuela’s cheese cupboard was of a quality and variety all its own. It smelt not of death and decay, but of life. A very peculiar form of life, admittedly.

‘In this cupboard,’ Izanuela declared in a tremulous voice, ‘three hundred and sixty-five cheeses are ripening to perfection. One for every day of the year, yet this choice assortment is far from complete. It’s a very subjective selection. Cheese is a matter of taste, you know.’

His curiosity aroused, Echo peered into the cupboard. He saw big rounds of cheese, plump balls, pointed cones and pyramids, and countless wedges. Many were wrapped in greaseproof paper, others dipped in ash or sealed with varnish, and still others encrusted with mildew or mustard seeds. It was a veritable cheese museum.

The Uggly clapped her hands in anticipation and craned far into the cupboard.

‘What shall we have today? Some Gloomberg Gorgonzola? A smidgen of Cape Coldfinger Camembert? A Bookholm Blue? Some creamy goat’s cheese from the Impic Alps? A slice of Murkholmian Mumblecheek? A tasty Florinthian Slithercurd, which melts on the tongue like butter when ripe? Or would you prefer something more powerful, for instance a Double Magma from the slopes of Mount Molehill, which is rolled in volcanic ash? Some Demon’s Gulch Gouda? Some Druid’s Delight, complete with wax coating? Or how about some Dullsgard Diarrhoeic?’

Izanuela grinned at Echo over her shoulder.

‘Didn’t you just tell me that all cheeses were much of a muchness? Quote me another food that exists in as many different varieties.’

Echo shrugged. ‘All right, you win. Cheese is the greatest.’

She reached into the cupboard and brought out a small glass jar with a screw cap.

‘This is Grailsundian Miner’s Breath,’ she said reverently. ‘Look at it.’ She held the jar under Echo’s nose.

‘I can’t see anything. The jar’s empty.’

‘But it’s in there. You can’t see it, that’s all.’

‘You mean it’s invisible, like the caviar Ghoolion gave me once?’

‘No. I should make it clear that Grailsundian Miner’s Breath exists only in Grailsund, and there’s only one example of it - a pretty big one, mark you. Grailsund is Zamonia’s cheese capital, the fragrant metropolis of Caseinism.’

Izanuela lowered the jar and stared into space.

‘Ah, Grailsund! Every Caseinian has to make a pilgrimage there once in his or her lifetime, to pay homage to the great Grailsundian Miner’s Breath. A cheese of monumental proportions, it’s as big as several houses piled on top of one another.’

She made a sweeping gesture, and Echo pictured a cheese towering into the sky.

‘Miner’s Breath has to ripen in a mine, of course, so the Grailsundians dug the deepest cheese mine ever excavated. The cheese has been maturing down there for over a thousand years and is still far from fully ripe. No one may eat any - it’s prohibited on pain of death! - but one can smell it. And believe me, that’s quite enough for anyone.’

Izanuela smiled ecstatically.

‘I was only permitted to sniff it for a few brief moments when I made my own pilgrimage to Grailsund, but I was completely glutted for several days. I even put on a pound or two. I couldn’t so much as look at a cheese for a whole week, I was so full.’

She unscrewed the lid.

‘Although it’s forbidden to eat any Grailsundian Miner’s Breath, every pilgrim is permitted to fill a preserving jar with its aroma and take it away. Here, have a sniff!’

Echo reluctantly sniffed the jar and Izanuela promptly screwed the lid on tight again.

For a moment he thought he would choke. The smell was so intense, so physically palpable, it threatened to cut off his air supply. Then the alarming sensation subsided and he felt as if his stomach were full of hot olive oil. He became as warm and sleepy as he did after one of Ghoolion’s lavish meals.

‘Phew!’ he said. ‘Thanks a lot. You’ve ruined my diet for at least a week.’

Izanuela smiled. ‘Yes, quite something, isn’t it? Mind you, it’s really only for special occasions.’ She replaced the jar. ‘I think I’m going to treat myself to a little Ornian Crumblecrust.’

She removed a primitive-looking farmhouse cheese from the