The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,115

time, was steadily emptying. The Alchemaster kept hurrying upstairs with basketloads of balls of fat for processing in the laboratory. To Echo, the most terrible times of all were when he boiled up the sighs of the dying. It broke the little Crat’s heart to hear the sounds that then arose from the bubbling saucepans, but to Ghoolion’s ears they were the sweetest music, and he danced to it more and more ecstatically. The old alchemist had always got by on a minimum of sleep, but he now needed none at all. The more recklessly he squandered his energies, the more abundantly strength seemed to flow into him. He drove himself on with various beverages including coffee and tea, wine and bitter mineral water. Often, too, he brewed a black, treacly concoction which he drank greedily, only to work twice as hard thereafter. Echo had sniffed it once, and a mere whiff had made his heart race for hours. It smelt of eucalyptus and resin, ether and petroleum.

The Alchemaster scarcely noticed his prisoner any more. He plunked Echo’s meals down in front of him, usually tinned food or precooked stuff from the larder, and didn’t seem to care whether he ate it or not. This helped Echo to discipline himself and stick to his diet. Although he wasn’t quite down to his old, ideal weight, he had considerably improved his agility and staying power.

One night, as he was sitting on the roof and looking down at Malaisea just as the lights were coming on in the houses, he thought: ‘Those people have no inkling of the drama in progress up here. On the other hand, I have no inkling of the dramas in progress in their living rooms. People die every day and they all get buried in the Toadwoods. Where’s the sense in that?’

His eyes strayed to the forest itself, which looked from up above like a huge, sleeping beast. Somewhere in its depths a plump toad was lurking in a grave, waiting for him. ‘You’re in for a long wait!’ Echo called down from the roof. ‘I’m not going to wind up in the Toadwoods, nor in Ghoolion’s cellar! I’m going to the Blue Mountains and far beyond them!’

He shouted the words as loudly and confidently as he could, but his voice trembled all the same.

Green Smoke

One morning Echo saw a thin plume of green smoke rising into the air from Izanuela’s chimney. This was the prearranged signal that the day had come. He set off at once for Uggly Lane.

‘We can’t wait any longer,’ Izanuela told him as she strapped the little wineskin to his body. ‘Tomorrow is full moon. You must find an opportunity to slip the potion into his wine before the day is out. When you’ve done that, come back here and I’ll release you from the wineskin. And don’t get caught, my young friend, not by Ghoolion or anyone else!’

‘I feel sick,’ Echo said plaintively, ‘sick with fear. Don’t pull that strap so tight.’

‘How do you think I’m feeling?’ said Izanuela. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink all night, and sheer nerves made me eat a whole slab of Troglotroll cheese. What if Ghoolion sets eyes on me and the perfume doesn’t work?’

‘Now you tell me!’ said Echo. ‘You were so certain before.’

‘Nothing in life is certain, especially when you’re dealing with someone like Ghoolion. Oh dear, what have I let myself in for? We’ll both end up grilling on that barbecue of his.’ She waggled her ears nervously.

‘You really know how to buoy a person up,’ said Echo. ‘Hold yourself in readiness and don’t leave the house. I’ve no idea when I’ll be back. Possibly in an hour’s time, possibly not till tonight. If the worst happens, never.’

Echo left Uggly Lane and turned off down the next street. This time, on the spur of the moment, he decided to take a short cut. He was less likely to encounter any wild dogs on the longer route through the busier streets, but the wineskin was heavy and conspicuous - someone might take a fancy to it and try to catch him. That being so, he went by way of the backyards in Hospital Lane, where the stench of disease was so repulsive that few people cared to linger.

That this was a mistake did not dawn on Echo until he had turned into the alleyway adjoining Hospital Lane. He rounded the corner and there they were: the pack of wild dogs he’d harassed as a