The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,138

Neither had Ghoolion, it seemed, because he dashed over to the cauldron and circled it with a look of alarm.

‘What’s going on here?’ he yelled. ‘Substances are going to waste! Precious substances!’

‘Zamonium and Spiderfat, oil of toad and graveyard peat!’ Echo improvised.

‘Hold your tongue!’ snarled Ghoolion. He tore off his hat and hurled it at the floor. ‘You’ll spoil everything!’

‘Quit the cauldron and arise,’ Echo declaimed at the top of his voice. ‘Don once more your former guise!’

‘Stop it at once!’ Ghoolion bellowed. ‘Not another word or I’ll slit your throat!’ He retrieved the scalpel but hovered irresolutely between Echo and the cauldron, too alarmed by what was going on inside it to act on his threat right away.

‘Leave your world and enter mine!’ cried Echo, undaunted. ‘It henceforward shall be thine!’

More and more of the brew was flowing over the rim of the cauldron. It changed colour several times, giving off iridescent bubbles that drifted across the laboratory as they had when the Cooked Ghost materialised.

‘It’ll all be ruined!’ Ghoolion screamed, dancing desperately round the cauldron. ‘All of it!’

The brew bubbled up more fiercely still. There was a rumble like the eruption of a submarine volcano and every glass vessel in the laboratory started to rattle. The whole room vibrated, small objects danced across the workbenches in time to the tremors and a book fell off a shelf. The air was rent by a shrill, high-pitched note that hurt Echo’s ears. Somewhere in the room, he realised suddenly, a channel connecting the laboratory to another world was opening up. Visitors from the hereafter were announcing their presence.

And then the Cooked Ghost arose from the foaming brew, brighter than ever before. It did not have to detach itself from the surface with an effort, as it had the first time, but simply turned into a wisp of luminous vapour and floated across the laboratory. Following it just as effortlessly came another equally luminous ghost. And another. And another. And another.

Ghoolion shrank away from the cauldron, which continued to disgorge a succession of shimmering forms. They congregated on the ceiling and encircled the laboratory like a dome of ghostly light.

‘What have you done?’ the Alchemaster demanded in a trembling voice.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Echo replied.

The Demons

The contents of the cauldron had subsided. The variety of smells that filled the laboratory was exceptional, even for surroundings like these. Although Echo was completely unacquainted with them, he could identify every one.

‘I smell Cralamander,’ he said in a low voice. ‘And Snowswallow. And Voltigork. Ubufant and Zamingo, too.’

‘You’re right,’ Ghoolion whispered. He was gazing gravely up at the strange aerial procession circling below the ceiling. ‘I can also smell the many other creatures I’ve rendered down. They’ve returned as ghosts the same way they left: via the cauldron.’

‘What are they doing here?’

‘I don’t know. I only know they can’t hurt me.’

‘Then why are you trembling?’

Ghoolion didn’t answer. Echo continued to enumerate the smells in the air: ‘A Platinum-Tongued Adder. An Ursine Muskrat. A Ferric Eagle. A Bicephalous Hukkan. A Zinoceros. A Yagg.’

‘Be quiet!’ Ghoolion hissed. Echo fell silent.

One of the Cooked Ghosts detached itself from the rest. It went spinning down like a sycamore leaf and did a sudden nosedive into the stuffed Nanofox that had scared Echo so much on his first visit to the laboratory. The fox glowed brightly and crackled like an alchemical battery. Then the ghost emerged from the stuffed animal and rejoined its circling companions.

‘What was that?’ Echo whispered. ‘Why did it do that?’

Ghoolion’s gaze was riveted on the ceiling. ‘No idea. Stop asking silly questions.’

The ghosts began to circle so fast that it made Echo dizzy just to watch their gyrations. At length they peeled off, one after another, and flew out into the passage. The Crat and the Alchemaster were alone together once more.

Ghoolion rubbed his eyes. ‘I’m going to find out what’s up,’ he said. ‘I trust they don’t intend to move in. My castle isn’t a dovecot for Cooked Ghosts.’ He gathered his cloak around him and hurried after the luminous apparitions.

What struck Echo as almost more astonishing than the recent course of events was the fact that he was all alone in the laboratory once more. He should really have been dead by now - rendered down into a ball of fat. He tugged at his chain, but it was as immovable as ever. What now? He pricked his ears and listened. Ghoolion’s clattering footsteps had died away. Nothing could be heard but the monotonous