The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,134

chemical powders and clouds of vapour mingled to form miniature tornados, but the Alchemaster seemed to relish the elements’ presumptuous invasion of his laboratory. He adjusted the controls of his Ghoolionic Preserver. In so doing he turned his back on Echo, who took the opportunity to tug at his chain. It was no use, though. Only Ghoolion could have released him.

The Alchemaster’s voice was quite calm now. ‘We’ve lived together for a whole month,’ he said. ‘I trust you can’t claim to have had an uninteresting time.’

‘No, I can’t,’ Echo said truthfully. The glass pistons in the Preserver began to rise and fall with a faint clanking sound, churning up the liquids in the cylinders.

‘I myself have learnt certain things from you,’ Ghoolion went on. ‘Serenity. Composure. Innate poise.’

Echo suppressed a bitter laugh. The old madman and murderer spoke of innate poise while preparing to awaken a corpse to everlasting life and extract the fat from a Crat. Insanity really did seem to be a disease whose victims remained unaware of it.

‘And those’, said Ghoolion, ‘are the qualities that must govern our parting. Serenity, composure, mutual harmony.’ He left the Preserver and went over to a workbench, where he picked up a scalpel and held it in the air.

‘I shall make this as quick and painless as I promised,’ he said.

If Ghoolion had been holding a carving knife or a bloodstained executioner’s axe, Echo might not have been as scared as he was of that surgical precision instrument. Just a diminutive blade little longer than one of Ghoolion’s fingernails, it was sharper than any other form of cutting tool. Sharper than an executioner’s axe, sharper than a cut-throat razor. Such a little piece of steel, yet capable of sending him to his death.

‘I think you now know me well enough to rest assured that I won’t cut off your head or mutilate you in any way. I shall simply make a tiny little incision in your throat, but at just the right spot. The blood will leave your body so fast, you’ll fall asleep for ever before the wound begins to hurt.’

‘Fall asleep for ever …’ thought Echo. What terrible finality there was in that phrase! He had never felt such an overpowering desire to live as he did at that moment.

‘We both want you to bequeath posterity a good-looking corpse, don’t we?’ Ghoolion said, drawing slowly nearer. ‘You see that sack over there? It contains the wood shavings I’m going to stuff you with. They come from the Nurn Forest, which means that they’re particularly durable and costly. I’ve spared no expense, you see. It’ll be centuries before anyone needs to restuff you, which they undoubtedly will. The way I’m going to embalm you, your fur will still be glossy long after the shavings have crumbled away to dust. That, by the way, is thanks to the fat I extracted from a thousand-year-old tortoise. So you see, you’re going to benefit from my research.’

There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in his tone. ‘He’s being absolutely serious,’ Echo reflected. ‘He actually thought I’d be interested in knowing what he’s going to embalm me with.’ In his mind’s eye, Ghoolion was already disembowelling him and stuffing him with wood shavings.

Echo instinctively did what all Crats do when threatened. He arched his back, fluffed out his tail and uttered a furious hiss - not that this made any impression on Ghoolion.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘by all means hiss if it makes you feel better. You can scratch and bite as well, but it won’t make things any easier for you. The most you’ll do is turn this into a painful and unattractive proceeding. My hand may slip. I may miss the artery and have to start again. Make another incision. Ruin your fur. Cause you needless suffering. We wouldn’t want that, either of us, would we?’

Echo stopped hissing, straightened his back and lowered his tail. True, it was utterly futile. Why make everything worse? In his own peculiar way, Ghoolion actually meant well by him.

‘Simply lie down and shut your eyes, that’s your best plan,’ the Alchemaster said smoothly. He was holding the scalpel where Echo couldn’t see it and take fright. ‘It’ll all be over in an instant. We ought to say goodbye now. Let’s get this over in a dignified manner.’

‘He’s right,’ thought Echo. ‘Why make a gory, painful and undignified scene? Better to simply shut my eyes and go to sleep.’

‘No!’ cried another voice inside him. ‘Certainly not! Struggle! Hiss!