The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,110
there.’
The Uggly stopped short. ‘He’s got a Snow-White Widow?’ she hissed. ‘In the cellars?’
‘She’s shut up in a glass cage.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve seen her.’
‘That’s very reassuring. Thanks for telling me, I feel much better now.’
‘It’s all right, we won’t be going anywhere near her,’ Echo whispered. ‘She’s in a remote part of the cellars.’
Izanuela reluctantly continued to descend the stairs. ‘A Snow-White Widow on top of everything else!’ she grumbled. ‘A few days ago I was leading a peaceful Ugglian existence. A client would occasionally complain that one of my predictions hadn’t come true, but that was the worst that could happen. Now I’m breaking into Ghoolion’s castle and working on a love potion. I steal plants, I almost fall to my death, I break one regulation after another, I risk my life as well as my fortune teller’s licence. And who am I doing all this for? A stray Crat. Can you give me one good reason why I should?’
They had reached the foot of the stairs.
‘We need some light,’ said Echo.
Izanuela lit the candle she had brought with her. To Echo, the dark, vaulted ceilings looked as menacing and close to collapse as they had the first time. He had never thought he would pay another visit to this loathsome part of the castle, still less of his own volition.
They made their way in silence through the series of underground chambers, which teemed with insects that shunned the light of their candle. Echo couldn’t help recalling Ghoolion’s memorable account of the ancient building’s gruesome history, but he refrained from sharing it with the Uggly, who strangely kept a bridle on her tongue for once. Whether this was because of their oppressive surroundings or the Alchemaster’s proximity, he couldn’t tell. It was probably a mixture of both - of awe and unrequited love - that had reduced Izanuela to silence. When they came to the door of the fat store, as they eventually did, she shone the candle on its numerous padlocks.
‘The one at the top is an acoustico-elemental lock,’ Echo said in a whisper, although no one could possibly have heard him. ‘That’s probably the hardest.’
‘Oh, I know those things of old,’ Izanuela said with a grin. ‘The Grailsund University authorities used one to secure the door of the room in which they kept their coveted Ugglimical diplomas. They’re child’s play to open.’
‘Just a minute,’ said Echo. ‘Are you telling me you stole your diploma?’
Izanuela blushed furiously. ‘Whoops!’ she said. ‘It just slipped out.’
‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Echo promised, ‘but only if you get that thing open.’
‘If you recite the correct names of the elements in the correct order - and you must know them if he opened the lock in your presence - it’s quite simple.’
Echo whispered the names in her ear.
‘Bismuth, niobium, antimony!’ cried Izanuela, and the lock sprang open.
‘Hey,’ said Echo, ‘how did you do that? The words kept getting twisted up on my tongue.’
‘The trick is to use your tongue to rearrange the individual syllables,’ she said. ‘I expect you remember what a talented tongue I have, don’t you?’ She extended the long green thing in question and Echo gave a reminiscent shudder.
‘Oh dear,’ she said, rattling the next padlock, ‘this is a numerical lock. I’ve no head for figures.’
‘This one’s mine,’ said Echo. ‘I made a note of the numerals Ghoolion spoke into it. Eighteen … twelve … six hundred and sixty-six … four thousand one hundred and two … seventeen million eight hundred and eighty-eight thousand five hundred and sixty-four …’
He reeled off the long series of numerals effortlessly. The padlock sprang open just as he finished.
‘You really do have a fabulous memory,’ Izanuela said admiringly. ‘You could make money out of it. Me, I can hardly remember my own birthday.’
‘Ghoolion used an invisible key for the next lock,’ Echo recalled. ‘Where are we going to get an invisible key?’
‘No need. Pedlars sell them to gullible yokels at country fairs. They’re rubbish. The key is invisible so no one can see it only has two wards, that’s all. I’ll get it open with the picklock.’
She produced the burglar’s tool from her cloak and poked around in the padlock. It sprang open almost at once.
‘Great,’ said Echo. ‘Now we need the flute. The next one is an unmusical lock made of cacophonated steel.’
‘Child’s play,’ Izanuela said scornfully. She brought out the flute and played exactly the same discordant notes as Ghoolion. The padlock opened by itself.