The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,119

and melissa, oat grass and silver sage. On her head Izanuela wore a shady, broad-brimmed hat woven out of white waterlilies. Butterflies were fluttering round her and settling here and there to sip at a blossom. To Echo, it looked as if an entire meadow were advancing on him. She smelt like a day in springtime.

‘Well, what do you think?’ she demanded coquettishly, performing a pirouette that made the leaves rustle. ‘Is it worthy of the occasion? I originally intended to make my wedding dress out of red cabbage leaves, but cabbage smells so strong.’

Echo couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She was still the same old Uggly underneath, admittedly, but she seemed transformed. She smelt better. Her movements were more majestic. She radiated a kind of inner beauty. The glorious flowers blinded the eye to all her shortcomings.

‘You’re a knockout,’ said Echo.

‘Thank you. And I still haven’t put any perfume on.’

‘You’ll bowl the old man over.’

‘How did he react to the love potion?’ she asked, patting her dress down.

‘Hard to say. He didn’t react at all, to be honest, but I scarcely had time to watch him. He drank it and left the room at once.’

‘The potion takes time to develop its full effect. An hour or so should do the trick.’

Izanuela proceeded to relieve Echo of the wineskin. ‘Was it difficult?’ she asked as she unbuckled the straps.

‘He took an age to drink the stuff,’ Echo replied, ‘but then he downed it in one.’

‘That’s good.’ She shivered ecstatically. ‘I’m so excited.’

‘It’s all gone swimmingly up to now.’ Echo stretched and yawned, glad to be rid of the cumbersome wineskin. ‘Still, we ought to be prepared for any eventuality. What if the potion doesn’t work?’

‘I’ve given the matter some thought,’ said Izanuela. ‘If Ghoolion doesn’t react to my appearance as we hope he will, I’ll simply tell him I’ve come to pay my respects. On the occasion of the … er, full moon. An old Ugglian custom which I’d like to revive, hence my ceremonial attire. Something along those lines. He can hardly grill me on his barbecue for that, can he?’

‘That would let you off the hook,’ said Echo. ‘Where would it leave me, though?’

‘Hm …’ she said. An awkward silence fell.

Her ‘Hm …’ hung in the air for a moment or two. Then she threw up her hands and cried, ‘No more dire imaginings, everything’s going to be fine! I only have to titivate myself a bit more and put on some perfume.’

She vanished behind the curtain, humming to herself like a beehive, while Echo waited patiently. Izanuela looked even more attractive when she reappeared. Her glossy lips were a dark shade of red, the worst of her warts had been masked by make-up and she was wearing a pair of long, silky eyelashes Echo had never seen before. Her cheeks were a healthy pink.

‘There,’ she said brightly, ‘now comes the finishing touch. The icing on the cake, so to speak!’

She took the flask of Cratmint perfume and dabbed a few drops on her cleavage.

Echo was suddenly overcome by a feeling of boundless affection for her. He wound round her legs the way he’d always wound round the clump of Cratmint on the roof, purring and miaowing with delight.

‘Off we go, then!’ she cried. ‘Let’s storm Ghoolion’s castle!’

The unusual spectacle presented by the strange pair created quite a stir in the streets of Malaisea. The crowds of gawping, uncomprehending pedestrians grew steadily thicker as they walked down Apothecary Avenue, but Izanuela refused to quicken her pace and strode on with head erect. Unlike Echo, she seemed to be enjoying the attention.

‘Take no notice of them, my friend,’ she said. ‘They’re nothing but ignorant boors.’

No one ventured to follow them up the lane to the castle.

‘They’re gutless, too,’ she said contemptuously. ‘Heavens,’ she went on, clutching her bosom, ‘my heart’s in my mouth.’

They didn’t stop till they reached the castle entrance. Izanuela gazed up at the building, which looked even more dilapidated at close range than from a distance.

‘Where do you think he is?’ she asked.

‘Ghoolion? In his laboratory, at a guess,’ Echo replied.

‘Then let’s get it over.’ Izanuela’s throat was so dry that she could only utter the words in a hoarse croak.

The Proposal

All the pride and self-assurance Izanuela had displayed in the streets of Malaisea swiftly evaporated in the atmosphere of the castle. She climbed the stairs on trembling legs and stared fearfully at the stuffed mummies like a little girl on her first ride