The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,132

the sloping roof and tumbled over the edge without a sound. Not until she had completely disappeared from view did Echo hear her long-drawn-out, high-pitched scream, which must have been audible all over Malaisea.

He dashed to the edge of the roof himself, only to be brought up short by the chain in Ghoolion’s hand, and stared down in horror. Izanuela was plummeting into space like an enormous wedding bouquet, leaving a long, multicoloured trail of flowers behind her as she spun and somersaulted through the air. She plunged into Malaisea’s expanse of rooftops and her scream died abruptly. All that could be heard thereafter was the whistle of the wind.

‘So she was innocent!’ Ghoolion exclaimed, looking perplexed. ‘Who would have thought it?’ He pocketed the key again, then dragged Echo away from the edge of the roof. ‘I must advertise for another Uggly at once,’ he said. ‘What’s the use of a municipal Alchemaster if he doesn’t have a single Uggly to torment?’

The Wrong Heart

‘I can’t make up my mind which was your biggest insult to my intelligence: the belief that I wouldn’t have rendered myself resistant to that herbal potion of yours, or the childish expectation that an Uggly could triumph over an alchemist. I really can’t decide between the two. And to think of all I’ve taught you about alchemy, the mother of all sciences! I’m immensely disappointed in you.’

Ghoolion had chained Echo to the alchemical furnace. He was striding back and forth across the laboratory and fiddling with various pieces of equipment while he lectured his captive. The clouds that could be seen racing past the windows grew steadily thicker and darker until they were pierced by only an occasional ray of sunlight. The room was fitfully illuminated by Anguish Candles, of which Ghoolion had lit several dozen.

‘Who do you think planted that Cratmint on the roof?’ he demanded. ‘Do you honestly think I haven’t familiarised myself with the Ugglimical Cookbook from cover to cover? What do you take me for? Eighteen uggs of Arctic Woodbine! Two uggs of Old Man’s Scurf! Four and a half uggs of Pond Scum! One ugg of Sparrowgrass! Floral mumbo-jumbo! Botanical hocus-pocus! Don’t make me laugh!’

Echo didn’t speak. Scarcely aware of Ghoolion’s presence, he seemed to hear the Alchemaster’s voice through a layer of cotton wool. He was still too much in shock to feel either fear or anger. The same scene continually unfolded before his inner eye: Izanuela in free fall, leaving a multicoloured trail of flowers behind her.

‘I thoroughly enjoyed watching you through my telescope,’ Ghoolion went on, ‘when you slunk off to your stupid conspiratorial meetings. Did you imagine I wasn’t aware that the two of you were skulking on my roof? And as for that ludicrous scene in the fat cellar! You must have thought me totally insane if you believed I couldn’t remember whether or not I’d locked the door to my holy of holies.’

‘I was hoping love would triumph over insanity,’ Echo retorted when he eventually found his voice. ‘But that was naive of me.’ He now noticed a new smell in the laboratory. It was unpleasantly cloying and penetrating.

‘I’m proof against boiling fat and water,’ Ghoolion cried above a distant peal of thunder. He went over to the cauldron. ‘So why shouldn’t I be equally proof against love? One’s heart can develop calluses, it’s only a question of practice and I developed mine during all the nights I spent beside this cauldron, rendering down the animals whose essences I intend to compound tonight. Don’t imagine that they didn’t affect me at first, all those anguished screams and death rattles! But one thin layer superimposed itself on another until my heart acquired the armour plate that now protects it from all the nonsense known as love and compassion, grief and pity. You picked on the wrong heart, the two of you!’

Ghoolion opened one valve and closed another, releasing a cloud of blue vapour. He tapped the sides of several jars containing Leyden Manikins, then turned back to Echo.

‘But you must admit how skilfully I joined in your little game. It gave me great pleasure to put my acting skills to the test. I have to confess that the potion and the perfume had a certain effect on me - one I found hard to resist. I developed a genuine affection for the Uggly, but it only made my play-acting easier. Up on the roof, when the perfume was at its strongest, I found it a