The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,99

the Cratmint,’ Echo said coaxingly. ‘What’s the score?’

‘Five, I’d say. Or even four.’

‘You see? Your fear is subsiding.’

Izanuela reached the top step and stared at Echo in astonishment. ‘How did you do it? Is it a trick you’ve learnt from Ghoolion?’

‘No, just a little applied Cratology. Or Echoism, if you prefer.’

‘Now you’re poking fun at me. Stop it, or I’ll -’

‘There it is!’ Echo broke in. ‘The Cratmint!’

The plant was still in full bloom. In the moonlight its stems looked white as milk and the flowers silver. Nocturnal insects were buzzing round it, attracted by its powerful scent.

Izanuela sighed. ‘It’s superb!’

‘Is it big enough for your love potion?’ Echo asked.

‘The Cratmint won’t be an ingredient of the potion. It doesn’t work like that. I shall distil my perfume from it.’

‘Your perfume?’

‘The erotic spell depends on two factors. The drink itself will merely cause Ghoolion to fall in love. In that state he could fall in love with anything or anyone: with me, with you, even with a tree. Only the perfume I distil from the Cratmint will point him in the right direction. If I drench myself in it, he’ll fall head over heels in love with me.’

Echo nodded. ‘I see. Then let’s dig it up.’

They went over to the plant. Izanuela produced a trowel from her robe and proceeded to dig.

‘I’m quite carried away,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It smells divine. It’s the loveliest scent I’ve ever smelt.’

Echo grinned. ‘It’s the same with me. I love that fragrance.’

‘Look at all the insects,’ she said. ‘They’re absolutely besotted with the plant.’

It was true, the beetles and moths whirring around the Cratmint were displaying almost lovesick behaviour. They kept diving into the flower cups and bathing in the pollen.

‘Your fear of heights,’ Echo remembered to ask, ‘what’s the score?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Izanuela said absently. ‘No idea. One or two, maybe.’

She dug up the plant with surgical precision. ‘One can’t afford to damage the smallest root hair,’ she pontificated. ‘Flowers feel no pain, but they feel something else. There isn’t a word for it in our language, which shows you how ignorant of plants we are. You can hurt them in many different ways.’ Having finally detached the clump of Cratmint from the surrounding soil, she held it up in the moonlight.

‘I love this plant - I could sniff it for ever. It’s wonderful.’

‘We must go now,’ Echo said. ‘How’s the acrophobia?’

‘Acrophobia?’ Izanuela retorted. ‘What’s acrophobia? I feel like dancing in the moonlight with this plant. I’d like to marry it!’

She clasped the Cratmint to her bosom and drew its scent deep into her lungs. ‘Aah!’ she cried. ‘Come, dance with me!’ Rising on her toes like a ballerina, she tittuped off the steps and on to the sloping tiles. Echo was seized with panic.

‘Come on now!’ he hissed. Izanuela was utterly enraptured. There would be a nasty accident if he didn’t take her home. ‘Get back on the steps!’ he said sharply. ‘Move!’

‘Acrophobia?’ she cried exuberantly. ‘Acrophilia, you mean! I’m fearless. I’m like a feather in the wind. I’m lighter than air!’

She leapt boldly over several tiles. When she landed on them with her full weight, they disintegrated like stale piecrust. Her left leg went through and sank in up to her crotch.

‘Ow!’ she wailed. ‘Ow, my leg!’

Echo jumped on to the roof and went over to her. ‘I told you to stay on the steps,’ he grumbled. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.’

Izanuela had come down to earth. ‘Ow,’ she wailed, ‘my leg’s stuck.’ Holding the Cratmint in one hand, she tugged at the imprisoning tiles with the other. One of them came away, then another, then a full dozen. The whole roof started to slide. Echo tried to leap to safety, but it was too late. It was like jumping from ice floe to ice floe while plunging down a waterfall.

‘Whoa!’ cried Izanuela. With a sound like thunder, the whole avalanche of tiles cascaded over the edge of the roof with her and Echo on board.

Then they were in free fall. This time, Echo possessed no Leathermouse wings he could have deployed at the last moment. Quickly, far too quickly, Malaisea came rushing up to meet him. It would be all over in a few seconds. Was this his punishment for trying to redirect his destiny: an even swifter death than at Ghoolion’s hands?

He was almost on a level with the Uggly, who was plummeting to earth in a shower of tiles. Her face betrayed no