on the enemy. Campaigns were conducted to the strains of such music. It was music for marching to - for killing to.
‘I know what it is,’ Echo said.
‘You do?’
‘You need only look out of the window.’ Echo’s heart was beating wildly again. He fervently hoped he had drawn the right conclusion from the music; his life might well depend on it. He listened closely. There was something in addition to determination in that music. It was the saddest sound he had ever heard: a funeral march.
Ghoolion had dashed to the window and was looking out.
‘Damnation!’ he exclaimed, clutching his chest. ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘It’s Izanuela’s house, isn’t it?’ said Echo. ‘It’s Izanuela’s house from Uggly Lane. Its music is unmistakable.’
‘It’s all the houses from Uggly Lane!’ Ghoolion yelled. ‘There must be over a hundred of them. They’re all round the castle.’
All of them? Echo was surprised. Still, why not? Izanuela had mentioned that all the houses in the street were alive, but she hadn’t said anything about their being so alive they could move from the spot. They must have come to avenge her.
‘All the houses, of course,’ Echo amended. ‘I know. I simply meant Izanuela’s house would be there too. It’s their leader, isn’t it?’
Once again, he could only hazard a guess and hope he was right. He cursed his confounded chain.
As if unable to believe his eyes, Ghoolion snatched up a telescope.
‘How should I know?’ he said. ‘They all look alike.’
‘Izanuela’s house is bigger than the others.’
‘What?’ Ghoolion squinted through the telescope again. ‘Yes, one of them is bigger than the rest. What sort of creatures are they? Are they plants? I’ve seen plants that can move, but none as big as these.’
‘They’re Ugglian Oaks,’ Echo said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘The oldest plants in Zamonia.’
How desperately he yearned to look out of the window at that moment! What did the oaks look like when they were in motion? Did their roots act as legs and their branches as arms? Were they rolling those mournful eyes in their knotholes? No matter, he must take advantage of Ghoolion’s discomfiture.
‘So the Uggly fulfilled our agreement,’ he said coolly.
‘What agreement?’ Ghoolion asked without averting his gaze from the astonishing scene.
‘Izanuela was also fond of striking bargains with natural phenomena,’ Echo said slowly, ‘with animals and plants.’ He had to choose his words carefully. ‘But not with a view to skinning them and extracting their fat.’
‘What are you getting at?’ Ghoolion demanded. He put the telescope down on the windowsill and gave Echo a piercing stare,
‘What you can see down there is Izanuela’s curse!’ Echo cried. ‘Your duel with her isn’t over, Alchemaster, it has only just begun. Her power extends beyond the grave. That’s something you’ll never achieve!’
‘What are you blathering about?’ Ghoolion snapped. ‘What curse?’
‘His hands are trembling,’ thought Echo. ‘I’ve unsettled him, but I mustn’t rush things.’
‘Those trees down there have come to fetch me,’ he lied boldly. ‘Izanuela told them what to do if something happened to her. That was what we agreed. The houses in Uggly Lane heard her scream as she fell. That was the signal. They’ve come to fulfil her last wish.’
Ghoolion didn’t answer. He stared out of the window, listening to the mournful music, then turned back to Echo.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Ugglian Oaks, singing plants. I dealt with far worse things today. Let them sing! They’re too big to get past the door and they’re welcome to besiege the building, I don’t intend to leave it. I’ve enough stores in here to last till doomsday. Besides, if I want to leave the castle I know of other ways out than the front door. Let’s get on.’
Ghoolion went over to the cauldron and inspected the contents. Judging by the contented way he clicked his tongue, he seemed pleased with what he saw. He took a big spoon and gave the brew a leisurely stir, even though the music was growing steadily louder. Then he laid the spoon aside and picked up the scalpel.
‘The soup is ready,’ he called. ‘So are you.’
The music continued to swell as he crossed the room, becoming so loud and piercing that every glass vessel in the laboratory began to rattle.
‘That’s right, sing!’ he shouted. ‘Sing away! Yours is just the music to skin a Crat by.’
Boom! The whole building shuddered. Plaster trickled from the ceiling and the laboratory floor gave a lurch. Taken aback, Ghoolion stopped short. It was all he could do