The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,143

as a mouse for the time being.

Where was Ghoolion?

It wasn’t fair of a creature not to make a sound. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t detect the Snow-White Widow’s scent. No sound, no smell. Zamonian fauna of that kind should be prohibited.

Where was the Alchemaster?

‘What makes me think the old man is still alive?’ he wondered suddenly. Perhaps he’d been the first to be killed by the Snow-White Widow after her release. It was highly probable, in fact, for how could such a creature be tamed? She was subject to no laws, natural or otherwise. Ghoolion himself had thought his plan dangerous. He was probably down in the cellar, right beside the Snow-White Widow’s glass cage, reduced to a little mound of white flakes. Or perhaps he was floating along the passages to the castle’s sinister music, in company with the dust to which the demons had also been reduced. He might be a tough old bird, but not even he was immune to the Snow-White Widow’s venom.

Something was wriggling up the furnace bars like a tendril of ivy. No, it wasn’t ivy, nor was it a snake. It was a strand of the Snow-White Widow’s hair!

Echo tried to retreat, but he was already up against the rear wall of the cast-iron chamber. The silvery strand insinuated itself between the bars and groped its way inside, then writhed across the floor, making straight for him. A second strand came snaking through the bars. And a third.

‘She knew I was in here all the time,’ thought Echo. ‘She’s just been toying with me.’

The third strand wound itself round one of the bars and pulled. The door creaked open and candlelight came flooding in. Then the Snow-White Widow herself rose slowly into view. Her veil of silvery hair looked as soft and fragile as the finest silk, but Echo wasn’t deceived; he now knew what she was capable of. He stood up, legs trembling. Even if an attempt to escape had had any prospect of success, his fear was so intense that he would probably have remained rooted to the spot.

The curtain of silver hair abruptly parted and Echo found himself looking once more at that one, terrible eye. Although it didn’t scare him quite as much the second time because he knew what to expect, he found it hard to withstand its gaze.

‘I know you,’ the Snow-White Widow said, addressing him telepathically.

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I know you too.’

‘I’m glad we’ve met again,’ she said. ‘It’s nice that we can talk at last. The prison Ghoolion built me was made of antitelepathic glass. Not a single thought could penetrate it.’

‘You want to talk to me?’ Echo asked in a quavering voice.

‘No, not really, I want to kill you. That’s my most pressing desire, but whenever I get an opportunity for some civilised conversation I try to control my murderous impulses. I try to exchange a few words with most of my victims.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, when time permits. But they all say more or less the same things, like “No, please don’t! I don’t want to die! Ooh, you’re hurting me! Ooh, I’m in agony!” And so on. Nothing of real interest.’

‘I’ve got a wide range of conversational topics,’ Echo said quickly. ‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘That’s nice for you,’ said the Snow-White Widow, ‘but I’m too impatient for long conversations. I generally allow my victims to ask one question and try to answer it to the best of my ability. Then I get down to business.’

‘Only one question?’ Echo would have gulped, but his throat was too dry.

ʻYes, just one. You can ask yours now.’ The Snow-White Widow closed her curtain of hair. Echo registered this with relief because it spared him the sight of her terrible orb. He didn’t take long to think of his question.

‘Where’s the Alchemaster?’ he asked. He might have abandoned all hope, but he wanted some definite information on that point at least.

‘I’ve no idea,’ said the Snow-White Widow. ‘He was outside my cage the last time I saw him. After he’d opened it.’

‘You didn’t kill him?’

‘That’s your second question. Still, I think it’s important enough to answer. You mustn’t imagine I was merciful to Ghoolion in any way. I’m absolutely merciless, but I’m under contract to him.’

‘Really?’ said Echo. ‘I’m also under contract to him.’

‘You don’t say! That’s interesting. What’s the contract about?’

‘Well, to cut a long story short …’ Echo hesitated. He still found it hard to utter the words. ‘It entitles him to kill