The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,84

soon be over. Relax! Enjoy it! After all, you enjoyed being a Leathermouse.’

So this was what a beehive looked like from the inside. The air, which smelt pleasantly of honey, was nice and warm. Oddly enough, Echo felt at home. Except that it wasn’t really so odd. After all, he was a bee.

‘Just relax,’ he told himself. ‘Be a bee. See what happens.’

His head was suddenly transfixed by a thought which - he couldn’t put it any other way - came from outside himself. A Demonic-Bee thought, it took the following form:

‘Gnorkx is great!’

The community of Demonic Bees suddenly stirred. They all took one simultaneous step to the right, then one to the left and ended by turning on the spot. Echo performed the same movements precisely and he knew why he was doing so. These dance steps were a statement in the Demonic Bee language. What was more, he knew what it meant:

‘Gnorkx is great!’

He even knew who Gnorkx was - it was common knowledge among Demonic Bees. Gnorkx was the venerable, supernatural being who had created them all. Gnorkx dwelt on the sun and was believed to be immortal. When a Demonic Bee died it went to Gnorkx and lived with him on the sun for evermore.

‘Good heavens,’ thought Echo, ‘not only am I a Demonic Bee; I even think and feel like one, and it doesn’t feel strange at all. It feels - well, normal. I wouldn’t mind gathering some pollen, and I’m also experiencing an irresistible urge to worship Gnorkx.’

He took one step to the right, one to the left, then turned on the spot. The other bees followed suit. ‘Gnorkx is great!’ they danced again.

This bred a reassuring sensation that they’d worshipped Gnorkx enough for the time being. Absolute silence fell. A Demonic Bee somewhat bigger than the rest ascended a low mound in the middle of the chamber.

‘This must be our leader,’ thought Echo. At all events, he felt bound to obey the insect implicitly. Indeed, he would have been prepared to carry out every one of its orders to the letter.

The big bee broke into a solo dance. It turned in a circle and fluttered its wings, waggled its antennae and shook its head. This meant:

‘Gnorkx is great! Gnorkx is immortal! Because we serve him, we too are immortal. We shall be so even when we die, and will dwell on the sun with Gnorkx the Great for evermore!’

To Echo, this seemed absolutely logical. The leader’s words were carved in stone and incontrovertible. It would never have occurred to him to doubt them. He felt an overwhelming desire to endorse them.

‘Gnorkx is great!’ danced the throng of bees and he joined in.

The bee-in-chief crossed its antennae, fluttered its wings twice and nodded its head. This meant:

‘Today is a very special day!’

‘This is terrific,’ thought Echo. ‘I’m not only getting to know the life of the Demonic Bees at first hand, I’ve hit on a very special day as well. Perhaps they’re holding a celebration, or something of the kind.’

‘Gnorkx is great,’ the leader danced. ‘His name is sacred, so all who deny Gnorkx must be exterminated.’

‘Hear, hear,’ thought Echo. ‘All who deny Gnorkx must be exterminated, that goes without saying.’

‘We are merciless and pitiless,’ danced the leader. ‘We ruthlessly annihilate all who dare to oppose Gnorkx the Great.’

‘Yes, sir!’ thought Echo. When Gnorkx’s interests were at stake, mercy and pity were out. Someone had said it at last. This bee had taken the words out of his mouth.

‘And that’, the leader danced, ‘is why we must die this very day!’

‘Eh?’ thought Echo.

‘The everlasting war against the Elfinwasps requires us to make the ultimate sacrifice, and we shall give up our earthly life willingly for the privilege of dwelling on the sun with Gnorkx the Great for evermore.’

‘Hang on a minute,’ thought Echo, ‘I’ve got no quarrel with the Elfinwasps.’ Besides, he was averse to dying. Surviving for as long as possible was much more to his taste. And what was the point of a war that lasted indefinitely? Anyway, what was all this nonsense about the sun? Nobody could live on the sun, they’d get burnt to a crisp. His Crat’s common sense reasserted itself.

‘The Elfinwasps fly away from the sun, not towards it. That means they deny Gnorkx’s existence!’

‘They probably fly away from the sun because it dazzles them,’ thought Echo. ‘Sensible creatures!’

‘We possess a powerful weapon: our stings. But we can use them only once because we die thereafter. Stinging entails