The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,120
in a ghost train. Sweat streamed down her cheeks, dissolving her make-up and washing it into her cleavage.
Halfway up the stairs she stopped abruptly.
‘I can’t,’ she wailed. ‘I can’t go through with it.’
‘Come on,’ Echo said encouragingly, ‘we’ve got this far.’
‘But I’m scared.’
Echo thought feverishly. How could he reassure her?
‘What score would you give your fear on a scale of one to ten?’ he asked.
‘A hundred. No, a thousand. No, a million. No, a hundred million.’ She was breathing heavily.
He wouldn’t get anywhere like that this time, he could tell. ‘Come on,’ he said again. ‘We’ll make it. You look ravishing.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I can understand why you’re bound to believe that, it’s your only hope. But I don’t have to do this. I need only go back home and everything will be the way it was.’
‘But you’ve got Plan B in case things go wrong. You simply spin him that yarn about an old Ugglian custom and make yourself scarce.’
‘It’s nothing to do with that. You think I’m scared of Ghoolion or those gruesome figures there? Bah!’ She made a dismissive gesture.
‘What do you mean?’
She gave him a long look of genuine despair. There were tears in her eyes.
‘It’s myself I’m afraid of,’ she said in a trembling voice.
‘You’re talking in riddles. This isn’t the time.’
Echo was bewildered. She infuriated him, yet he felt sorry for her.
‘I’ve only just realised,’ she went on. ‘It’s like my acrophobia on the roof, don’t you understand? This isn’t just your last chance, it’s mine as well.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Do you know how old I am? No, you don’t, thank goodness, and I’m not going to tell you. Nor am I going to tell you how many chances of romance I’ve ruined in my lifetime. There’s only one certainty: this is the last.’
She wiped away her tears.
‘This time I’m staking all I possess: the love potion, the perfume, this gown, myself. If I fail to conquer a man’s heart this time, I shall never pluck up the courage to try again.’
Echo was beginning to understand.
‘If I go home now,’ Izanuela whispered, ‘at least I can always tell myself I might have succeeded. Surely that’s better than the bitter certainty of failure?’
‘I can’t judge,’ said Echo. ‘I don’t have the experience. I’ve never ruined a chance of romance because I’ve never had one.’
A long, melancholy silence ensued.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘let me wear the perfume. Just tip it over my fur and push off. I’ll risk it.’
‘You know that won’t work, he’ll be twice as anxious to keep you at his side. And when the effect of the perfume wears off, tsssk!’ She drew a long fingernail across her throat.
Another awkward silence.
‘Very well,’ she sighed at last. Her bulky frame came to life with a jerk that made her leafy gown rustle. ‘I’ll do it, but don’t imagine I’ll lift a finger to help you if it all goes pear-shaped.’ She went stomping up the stairs with Echo at her heels.
When they got to the laboratory he cautiously peered inside. The cauldron of fat was bubbling away. No sign of Ghoolion, though.
Izanuela peeped round the corner.
‘Oh, he isn’t here!’ she exclaimed in relief. ‘Too bad. Come on, let’s go.’
‘Not on your life, we’ll wait. He’s bound to be fetching some more balls of fat from the cellar. He’ll be back any minute.’
Echo went into the laboratory and Izanuela reluctantly followed him.
‘Where do you think I should stand?’ she asked. ‘Where would I look my best?’
‘Stand beside the window. The smells aren’t as bad over there, so they won’t overwhelm the perfume.’
Izanuela went over to the window and carried out some running repairs. She mopped her sweaty face and applied some more rouge. Then she took out the flask of Cratmint perfume and sprinkled herself liberally with it.
‘Just to be on the safe side,’ she said with a nervous laugh.
‘You’re being very extravagant with that stuff,’ said Echo. ‘What’ll you do when it’s all used up?’
‘It’ll last for a while yet. Meantime, I’m hoping to obtain some more Cratmint. I’ve already asked my colleagues to keep their eyes open.’
Echo pricked his ears. ‘I can hear him coming. He’s halfway up the stairs.’
Izanuela tweaked her gown straight.
‘Tell me something,’ she said. ‘When should I ask him to let you go?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Echo replied. ‘Let’s wait and see what he does. We don’t want to rush things before we’re absolutely sure you can twist him round your little finger.’