The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,89
mouse had made its teeming nest in a heap of bones. Echo had never seen anything more repulsive. He turned away, unable to endure the sight any longer.
‘I cooked an elaborate meal whenever the frenzy of love overcame me,’ said Ghoolion. ‘I dished up those meals and left them to go bad, one after another. Now can you imagine my state of mind?’
Echo fled down the passage in the direction they had come from. Ghoolion left the gruesome banqueting table, closed the doors again and followed him.
‘It wasn’t until you told me the story last night’, he called, ‘that I was released from that years-old curse. I can see clearly once more. Tomorrow I shall get rid of all that frightful rubbish.’
They were now far enough away for Echo to dare to breathe freely again.
‘I’m glad to have been of service to you,’ he gasped. ‘Especially if it results in the disappearance of that mess.’
‘I’m indebted to you, in a manner of speaking,’ said Ghoolion. ‘You may ask me a favour.’
‘How about releasing me from a curse and letting me go?’
‘Ah,’ Ghoolion said with a grin, ‘that would be taking gratitude too far! I was thinking more of a culinary delicacy of some kind. What would you say to some fried mouse bladders?’
Echo sighed.
‘You could do with a decent meal,’ Ghoolion went on. ‘I do believe you’ve lost weight recently.’
They returned to the familiar reaches of the castle. Ghoolion fried some mouse bladders, as he had promised, and Echo manfully ate them to replenish his involuntarily emptied tummy.
That night, as he lay in his basket, he had a certain amount of food for thought. Startling, bewildering and revolting though today’s events had been, they did entitle him to feel vaguely hopeful. The secret of Ghoolion’s culinary activities had been revealed. So the Alchemaster was capable of emotion, even of love. His gloomy mood had evaporated; in fact, he now made a positively reasonable, approachable impression. Before the night was out, Echo had devised a bold plan, but one he couldn’t carry out unaided. He would need help: the help of the last Uggly in Malaisea.
The Botanical Theatre
Echo still hadn’t got used to setting foot in Uggly Lane by night. Although he knew the gnarled old houses were unoccupied, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched as he slunk past them. The mist resembled a living creature, a huge, fluffy, vaporous serpent writhing around the deserted wooden shacks. He padded swiftly along to Izanuela’s house and climbed the veranda steps, which seemed - he could have sworn it - to flinch beneath his paws. He’d not made a sound, but the front door swung open.
The Uggly was seated at the kitchen table, stuffing something quickly into her mouth - something alive, it seemed to Echo. Whatever it was, she hurriedly gulped it down.
‘Good evening,’ Izanuela said in a strangled voice. ‘What a surprise. You’ve taken advantage of your visitation rights sooner than I expected.’ She gave an involuntary belch.
‘Good evening,’ said Echo. ‘I have to make the most of the time I’ve got left. I can’t afford to put things off.’
‘You really know how to prick a person’s conscience, my young friend. I’ve had trouble sleeping since your last visit.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Echo. ‘Look, I won’t beat about the bush: I’ve come to ask your help again.’
Izanuela rolled her eyes. ‘I guessed as much,’ she sighed.
‘It occurred to me that we might pool our talents,’ Echo began. ‘I thought -’
‘What are you talking about?’ she broke in. ‘I don’t possess any talents.’
‘I don’t believe that. You must have some knowledge of Ugglimy. You went to a school for Ugglies. You’ve got a flourishing business.’
‘What of it?’
‘If Ghoolion is preventing you from putting your true abilities into practice, you must be able to do something he’s afraid of.’
Izanuela grunted. ‘So you already said. What are you getting at?’
‘Well, I don’t think alchemy is that far removed from Ugglimy. If your knowledge of the latter is sketchy, I can put all my knowledge of alchemy at your disposal. We could pool our knowledge and create something.’
‘What do you suggest we make?’
Echo hesitated. ‘Well, er … How about a love potion?’
The Uggly rose abruptly to her feet. ‘A love potion?’
‘Well, yes. Certain recent events have led me to believe that Ghoolion’s heart isn’t as cold as everyone thinks. He’s quite capable of falling in love and I thought that a love potion might -’