The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,86
Was he to be eaten by Theodore because he’d eaten him? No, that made no sense. How could the Tuwituwu be here if he’d eaten him?
‘Echo?’ someone called. ‘Echo?’ It was the Alchemaster’s voice.
With his own name ringing in his ears, Echo disappeared into Theodore’s open beak. Everything went light and dark, light and dark by turns. Then he bade farewell to his existence as a Demonic Bee.
The Banquet
Echo opened his eyes to find himself looking into the Alchemaster’s face. Crouching down beside his basket, Ghoolion was just replacing a big hypodermic syringe in his cloak.
‘Now you know what collective insanity feels like,’ he said. ‘That’s another experience granted to very few.’
Echo rubbed his eyes and yawned.
‘I brought you back from your trip before time because I was worried about you,’ Ghoolion went on. ‘You were groaning and moaning and kicking like a mad thing.’
‘I was a bee,’ Echo said reproachfully. ‘A Demonic Bee.’
‘Yes,’ said Ghoolion, ‘it was essential, I’m afraid. That’s why I put an undeactivated bee in the honey and diluted your milk with Blue Tea. It must have been a fantastic metamorphosis.’
‘It certainly was,’ Echo said grumpily. ‘But why was it essential?’
‘For the same reason I turned you into a Leathermouse,’ the Alchemaster replied, as if both transmutations were a matter of course.
‘There was a reason?’ Echo asked, struggling into a sitting position. ‘What was it?’
‘Well, I still don’t have any Leathermouse or Demonic Bee fat in my collection, and I can’t get hold of any in the time available. It’s quite impossible.’
‘Why? You’ve got a whole loft full of Leathermice and dozens of Demonic Bees in your honey.’
‘In order to extract a creature’s essential fat, I have to render it down within a minute of its death. Cadavers become useless shortly afterwards. Whenever I come across the corpse of a Leathermouse, it’s generally been dead for hours, sometimes days. The most I can do is make it into black pudding. And you know why I don’t lay hands on the live vampires in my loft.’
Echo climbed out of his basket,
‘As for Demonic Bees, catching them alive is a difficult and extremely hazardous business,’ Ghoolion went on. ‘Only the beekeepers of Honey Valley have mastered the technique. Unfortunately, dead bees preserved in honey are quite useless for alchemical purposes.’
‘But what’s that to do with my transformations?’ Echo asked.
Ghoolion smiled. ‘If I can’t obtain the unadulterated fat of those life forms,’ he said, ‘I can at least preserve their fundamental characteristics: the dogged tenacity of the Leathermouse, the insane fanaticism of the Demonic Bee. That’s where you come in. You’ve experienced them both. They’re both in here!’ He tapped Echo’s little head with a long fingernail. ‘I need only extract them.’
‘You’re really fond of doing deals with animals, especially if they cost you nothing,’ Echo grumbled. He proceeded with his morning wash. It was nice to be a Crat again. To hell with Gnorkx!
‘Oh, come,’ said Ghoolion, ‘it must have been interesting, surely? Do the bees really communicate by dancing?’
‘Yes. But I was nearly devoured by Th - er, by a bird.’
Ghoolion grinned. ‘It’s impossible to die during a metamorphosis. Do you really think I’d risk your precious life?’
‘Nice to know that after the event,’ Echo said sulkily.
‘I told you once before: too much information can spoil or even eliminate the hypnotic effect. It must come as a surprise, without any preparation. Anyway, how are you feeling now? I gave you an alchemical injection that curtailed your trip. It also neutralised the other after-effects of the bee venom.’
‘I’ve felt better,’ said Echo. ‘Still, I’m not as bad as I was after my Leathermouse trip.’
‘There are various ways of ending such a trip,’ Ghoolion said. ‘The commonest is a post-hypnotic command to terminate it if danger threatens; then you either lose consciousness or return to your real body. In this case I summoned you back by alchemical means. You’ve now experienced all three methods.’
‘What I still don’t know’, said Echo, ‘is whether I’m really experiencing these things or only dreaming.’
‘Why not ask yourself whether your other dreams are real? You go on trips and undergo the strangest experiences every night. How do you know they only take place in your mind?’
Echo shook his head, which was buzzing with the after-effects of his trip and the Alchemaster’s bewildering remarks.
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I’ve had enough. I won’t eat another morsel unless you promise not to dish up any more metamorphotic meals. I prefer being a Crat.’