The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,21

blue. Deprive him of your Crat fat and you’ll hash his dopes completely.’

‘But we’ve got a contract.’

‘A cantroct?’ The Tuwituwu stared at Echo in horror. ‘A legal codument? Really? That’s bad.’

‘Yes,’ sighed Echo, ‘and contracts have to be kept.’

‘Nonsense, cantrocts are made to be broken! But a cantroct with Ghoolion … That’s another matter.’

‘What do you mean?’

Now it was the bird’s turn to look around apprehensively.

‘Ghoolion has ways of enforcing your cantroct with him.’

‘What ways are you talking about?’

‘You’ll soon find out if you try to break it.’

‘That’s more or less what the Leathermice told me. So you also believe I’ve no hope of getting out of here alive?’

‘I didn’t say that. I’m potimistic by nature, but yours is an expectionally rare case. I shall have to give it a little more thought.’

The foliage of the artificial Christmas tree rustled in a sudden gust of wind. Echo looked round. Some big fat storm clouds in the distance were drawing nearer.

‘The clamitic conditions are about to undergo a drastic fortransmation, ’ said the Tuwituwu. ‘The otmasphere is charged with electricity, the beromatric pressure is falling - that means a stunderthorm. Cindotions up here will become pretty unpleasant. I shall retire to my cellar to catch a mouse or two. I still have to ornagise my own meals, alas.’

‘Why not help yourself to some of these sausages?’ Echo said invitingly.

The Tuwituwu looked indignant.

‘Absolutely not! I never touch anything that comes from Ghoolion’s biadolical kitchen. It’s an iron-cast principle of mine.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Echo, ‘but you don’t know what you’re missing.’

‘You’d better find yourself a nice dry spot somewhere,’ said Theodore.

‘I will. Many thanks for the conversation and the good advice.’

‘That wasn’t a conservation, it was a cansporitorial get-together. I didn’t advise you, either, I simply made some stragetic suggestions. From now on we’re a team.’

‘A team?’

‘An alliance forged by fate. We’re brothers in spirit, camrodes-in-arms. See you again soon.’

Theodore T. Theodore shut his single eye and disappeared slowly down the chimney.

Echo turned and scanned the heavens. Big-bellied rain clouds were towering over the Blue Mountains and the moist, warm wind was steadily increasing in strength. He was beginning to feel uneasy out there on the roof; being at the mercy of a thunderstorm really didn’t appeal to him. Theodore’s topsy-turvy utterances had left him bemused. Besides, he was sleepy after gorging himself, so he resolved to go inside and have a little nap to help him digest what he’d heard and eaten. It had been a thoroughly eventful morning.

The Cooked Ghost

Echo could hardly believe he’d managed to give Ghoolion the slip. Flatly ignoring the terms of their contract, he had sneaked out of the castle, scampered all the way across Malaisea and left the outskirts of the town behind him for the first time in his life. He’d been afraid that the Alchemaster would lay him low with a remote-controlled thunderbolt or turn him to stone, but nothing of the kind occurred. Now he was up in the mountains he’d seen from the roof of Ghoolion’s castle. Walls of blue rock towered on either side of him, far higher than the walls flanking Malaisea’s narrow streets - higher, even, than the Alchemaster’s castle.

Suddenly he heard a clatter all round him. The rock faces rang with the tramp of marching feet and the rattle of bones. Echo knew at once what was making this din: Ghoolion’s iron-soled boots were beating out their menacing rhythm. The sound was accompanied by an asphyxiating stench of sulphur and phosphorus. Then the whole mountain range grew dark as if a sudden storm had gathered overhead. Echo looked up, fearing the worst, and there, taller even than the very mountains, stood Ghoolion. Dressed all in black, he had grown into a giant a thousand times bigger than before. He bent down and, with a casual backhander, knocked off a mountain peak. It exploded into countless fragments as it fell, and an irresistible avalanche of rock came rumbling down the mountainside in Echo’s direction. He tried to run, but his legs felt so leaden he could hardly detach his paws from the ground. The thunderous avalanche drew nearer and nearer, the first rocks hurtled past him. And then, looking more closely, he saw to his horror that they weren’t rocks at all: they were human heads, each of them adorned with Ghoolion’s face. ‘Irrevocably committed!’ one of them shouted. ‘Indissolubly binding!’ yelled the next. ‘Legally enforceable!’ cried another.

Echo woke up. He was lying in his basket beside Ghoolion’s stove