The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,83

chased as a Leathermouse and the stuffed Demonic Mummies that had come to life in his nightmare. Even while dreaming, he realised that he was being shown the whole of his life to date in a condensed form but completely out of order, like a stage play whose director has got his pages mixed up. The actors performing this farrago of a play swapped voices and roles as they pleased. Ghoolion spoke in the Uggly’s voice and vice versa, Theodore was a Leathermouse and the Snow-White Widow his mate. They all gave him conflicting advice and bombarded him with meaningless drivel as he roamed restlessly through the streets of Malaisea and along the castle passages in search of something, not that he could remember what it was. A huge Woodwolf with resin dripping from its open jaws came lurching out of the darkness. ‘Don’t believe a word an Uggly says,’ it declared in the Golden Squirrel’s voice, ‘especially when it’s to do with the Alchemaster! If you have trouble with him, better consult your doctor or pharmacist!’

Echo awoke with those words ringing in his ears. Feeling utterly bemused, he scrambled to his feet. Beside his basket was a bowl of cold milk and a plate containing a slice of bread and honey cut into bite-sized morsels. The handwritten note lying beside it read:

My dear Echo,

I regret my inability to offer you a particularly lavish breakfast this morning, as I will be engaged on a research project all day. However, the honey on the bread is very special. It’s made by the Demonic Bees of Honey Valley.

Don’t worry about the dead bees in it, they’ve had their stings removed and they make the honey nice and crunchy. But be sure to chew with care. It sometimes happens, though very rarely, that one of the bees has not had its sting removed. Although a prick in the gum or tongue wouldn’t kill you, it would certainly give you an unpleasant time. This risk factor is said to be part of the enjoyment one derives from eating a slice of bee-bread.

Bon appétit!

Succubius Ghoolion

‘Well, well,’ Echo thought sleepily, ‘Demonic Bees from Honey Valley. Whatever. After last night I’d eat a grilled Sewer Dragon, with or without its knilch.’ He hurriedly devoured a few morsels and took a swig of milk. The milk tasted odd - soapy, somehow - so he wolfed another piece of bee-bread to take the taste away - and instantly felt a stabbing pain in his tongue.

‘Ouch!’ he said, but that was as far as he got. The room began to revolve, alternately bathed in light and darkness, and he went plummeting down a black-and-white shaft that spiralled into the depths, losing consciousness on the way.

When Echo came to, he seemed to be looking into a shattered mirror that reflected many little fragments of the world around him. It wasn’t long before the tiny images assembled themselves into one big picture, and he saw that he was in a chamber with a huge domed roof composed of cells of yellowish wax. It was dimly lit by the few rays of light that filtered through cracks between the cells. What impressed Echo most of all, however, was not the chamber in which he’d recovered consciousness, but the company in which he found himself. There were bees in front of him and bees to his right and left. He felt sure he would also find bees behind him if he looked round, but he wasn’t brave enough. They were Demonic Bees the size of full-grown mastiffs, and there must have been thousands of them.

‘Just a minute,’ he thought. ‘Bees the size of dogs? I must think this over before I get into a panic. What happened before I passed out? The milk tasted odd - Ghoolion probably spiked it with something. If I bit on a bee sting, you can bet he put it there. This can only be one of those trips in another body he so generously arranges for me - a metamorphotic meal.’

Echo looked down at himself. Bristly black hairs were sprouting from his chest, and his legs - six of them! - were insectile legs of glossy black chitin. And what were those things waving around in front of his eyes, antennae? Yes, they really were.

‘I’m a bee,’ he thought, ‘a Demonic Bee, and these creatures aren’t so big at all. It’s simply that I’ve shrunk. This is just a trip,’ he went on, trying to reassure himself. ‘It’ll