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Authors: Walter Moers

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BOOK: The Alchemaster's Apprentice
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‘I’d like to visit the mother of all roofs again. For the very last time.’
‘Oh,’ said Ghoolion, relaxing, ‘if that’s all it is, of course you may.’ He turned to Izanuela. ‘I meant to show you the view from up there in any case, my blossom. It’s absolutely breathtaking.’
True Love
T
he three of them climbed the stairs to the Leathermousoleum. The vampires were fast asleep at this time of day, so they were accompanied on their way by the sound of a thousand snores. The stench was so appalling they couldn’t get out on to the roof fast enough.
Once outside, Izanuela froze just as she had the first time. She clutched her bosom.
‘Isn’t this wonderful?’ said Ghoolion. ‘You can see all the way to the Blue Mountains. You’d think they were close enough to touch.’
‘Yes, it’s wonderful,’ Izanuela gasped. She swayed, her false eyelashes quivering.
The view was as impressive as ever, but this time it left Echo cold. With so much at stake, how could he be expected to enjoy it?
‘It isn’t until one has climbed through that stuffy Leathermousoleum that the view exerts its full effect,’ said Ghoolion. ‘The best things in life are free. I feel a different person every time I come up here. Lately, alas, I’ve scarcely had time to do so.’
‘It’s, er … glorious.’ Izanuela croaked the words, digging her fingers into her floral gown.
‘She must get over her fear before she asks him,’ thought Echo. ‘She must put her request in a self-assured tone of voice, not with a dry throat.’
Ghoolion drew several deep breaths, then pointed downwards. ‘You see Malaisea?’ he said to Izanuela. ‘The town makes such a tranquil, benevolent impression from up here, yet every house is occupied by people who hate me.’
He laughed.
‘And why do they hate me? Because they’re afraid of me. I have to put the fear of God into them in order to control them, otherwise they’d march up the hill and tear me to pieces. It’s an endless vicious circle. If you only knew how tired of it I am. How weary it makes me.’
The Alchemaster was clearly in a philosophical mood, just as Echo had hoped. But they must keep their nerve and take care not to rush things. The Uggly must calm down first. They must wait for the ideal moment.
‘May I take a last look at the lake of milk?’ Echo asked diffidently.
Ghoolion looked down at him.
‘You liked that, didn’t you?’ He grinned. ‘I thought you might like to visit it again, so I refilled it with fresh milk.’ He turned to Izanuela. ‘Would you care to accompany us, my blossom? It’s a bit of a climb.’
‘No thanks,’ she said hastily. ‘I’d sooner stay here and, er, enjoy the view.’
‘Let’s go, then.’ Ghoolion relaxed his grip on the chain and allowed Echo to precede him up the steps. The wind had got up and it was growing warmer, just as he had predicted.
‘You may not believe me,’ he said, ‘but I shall miss your company. Your presence has a beneficial effect on me. I’m reluctant to dispense with it.’
‘Very flattering,’ said Echo. ‘You could always change your mind, of course.’
‘If only it were that simple,’ Ghoolion sighed. ‘The die is cast, I’m afraid. Tonight’s the night!’
‘Are you really sure it’ll work? The experiment, I mean?’
‘One can never be absolutely sure. Every venture contains the seeds of failure. Any experiment can go wrong.’
Echo recalled Izanuela’s moment of weakness on the stairs. She had said something very persuasive.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘sometimes it can be better to abandon a venture than come to grief. Better not to climb a mountain than fall to your death. Better not to cross a desert than die of thirst. You can still tell yourself you
might
have succeeded.’
‘That’s an overly convenient attitude to doing one’s duty.’ Ghoolion laughed. ‘It isn’t mine. I’d reproach myself for ever if I didn’t try it. No, you can’t change my mind. Not you, my young friend!’
‘Not me,’ thought Echo, ‘but maybe someone else can.’
They had reached the lake of milk. This time Echo had no eyes for the idyllic beauty of the spot, still less any appetite, but he pretended to drink greedily. He even fished out a crispy roast quail and nibbled it. He had to gain sufficient time for Izanuela to regain her composure.
‘I almost degenerated into a vampire myself,’ said Ghoolion, leading Echo around on his chain, ‘but I eventually realised that day existed as well as night. I want to make it up to Floria. It would really mean a lot to me if you gave us your blessing.’
‘What a nerve!’ Echo thought. ‘He intends to do me in, but he wants my blessing first.’ But he played along with the Alchemaster’s cruel game and said, ‘You can have it.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ghoolion. ‘That means a lot to me. In another world I’m sure we would have been good friends.’
Echo nodded. ‘Yes, in another world.’
The sun was now beating down and hot gusts of wind were ruffling the grass. Conditions on the roof were becoming steadily less pleasant.
‘Well,’ said Ghoolion, tugging at Echo’s chain, ‘time’s up. We must go back inside now. Duty calls.’
When they made their way back to Izanuela, Echo could tell from afar that a change had come over her.
Gone were her darting glances and nervous movements. But there was something else. The overpowering scent of Cratmint was stronger than ever before. She had positioned herself so that the wind carried it to Ghoolion’s nostrils when he and Echo were still halfway down the steps.
‘At last,’ thought Echo. ‘She’s recovered her wits.’
‘One!’ said the Uggly, just as they reached her.
‘One on a scale of one to ten,’ Echo amplified in his head. ‘Good, she’s conquered her fear.’
‘What was that?’ Ghoolion asked.
‘Er, one …’ Izanuela stammered. ‘One, er, can only describe the view from up here as unique - genuinely uplifting. It’s as if all one’s cares had been blown away by the wind.’
Ghoolion was standing directly in the current of air that was transmitting Izanuela’s perfume from her to him. He looked mesmerised. His eyes were glazed and he was swaying slightly. His face wore a blissful smile.
‘Now it’s
my
turn,’ Echo told himself. ‘I must appeal to his emotions and arouse his sympathy.’
‘It must be a glorious feeling,’ he said shyly, ‘to stand up here in the throes of a new-found passion. I wish I knew what it was like. I’ve never been in love myself.’
‘What, never?’ said Izanuela. ‘How sad.’
Echo gazed into the distance and sighed.
‘I’ve heard it said that, over there beyond the Blue Mountains, there’s a kind of Crat that could teach me the meaning of love. But I suppose it’s too late for that now.’
He cast a surreptitious glance at the Alchemaster. Ghoolion was standing motionless. Was he really unmoved or in an emotional turmoil? Were insanity and compassion, love and malevolence fighting for the upper hand within him? Or had he seen through their amateur dramatics long ago, and was he merely thinking of some alchemical formula to do with the extraction of his, Echo’s, fat? It was impossible to tell, but that didn’t matter, Echo decided. The moment had come. The perfume must now have taken full effect. It was now or never! He gave Izanuela a meaningful nod.
‘I’d like to ask a favour of you,’ she said, turning to Ghoolion.
He pricked up his ears. ‘Ask away, my blossom. Your wish is my command.’
‘I’d like you to let the Crat go. I couldn’t bear anyone to die on such a happy day.’
‘Perfectly put,’ thought Echo. ‘Boldly and self-confidently phrased in full reliance on the potent effect of the Cratmint.’
The Alchemaster gave Izanuela a lingering look.
Echo’s heart was in his mouth. What would Ghoolion do next? Laugh hysterically? Fall on his knees? Turn into a raven? In his case one had to be ready for anything.
‘So that’s what you want?’ he said. ‘That I let Echo go?’
Izanuela nodded, looking him steadfastly in the eye.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘No,’ Ghoolion cried, drawing himself erect. ‘With respect, my blossom, you cannot gauge what that would mean - no one could. You might as well ask the sun to stop shining or forbid a storm to break. My whole life, my whole life’s work would forfeit its meaning just like that!’ He clicked his fingers. Izanuela gave a start.
‘It would be like ripping the heart from my body and devouring it before my eyes. Would you really do that to me? Is that really what you want?’
The Uggly, who hadn’t been expecting such a reaction, was utterly at a loss. She didn’t even dare glance at Echo in search of support, she merely continued to stare at Ghoolion, doing her best not to faint.
A long, awkward silence fell. Echo didn’t dare breathe.
‘However,’ Ghoolion said gravely, ‘that’s precisely why I shall do as you ask. I’ll show you what true love means. I already lost my true love once in my life and nearly went mad as a result. This time I shall hold on to her at the expense of my life’s work. So be it.’
He took the little padlock key from his cloak and bent down. ‘Well,’ he whispered to Echo, ‘how was it?’
Echo was bewildered. ‘How was what?’ he asked.
‘My monologue, of course!’ Ghoolion said in a low voice. ‘I’m not a trained actor, after all.’ Straightening up again, he said loudly, ‘Did I sound relatively convincing? What do
you
think, Izanuela?’
The name jolted Echo like an electric shock. He had addressed the Uggly by her real name! No more ‘blossoms’. No more ‘Florias’.
Ghoolion suddenly underwent a remarkable transformation. All the loving kindness and compassion left his voice and demeanour. He reassumed the callous, tyrannical expression he wore in his darkest moments. This was the Alchemaster in his true persona.
‘Do the pair of you know how people of the Middle Ages discovered whether an Uggly was innocent or guilty?’ he asked. ‘They hurled her off a roof. If she survived by flying through the air, she was guilty. If she fell to her death, she was innocent. Simple but just.’
He went right up to Izanuela and gave her a push. Only a gentle one, but enough to throw her off-balance.
‘Whoops!’ he said.
Izanuela took a few clumsy little steps down the sloping roof and tumbled over the edge without a sound. Not until she had completely disappeared from view did Echo hear her long-drawn-out, high-pitched scream, which must have been audible all over Malaisea.
He dashed to the edge of the roof himself, only to be brought up short by the chain in Ghoolion’s hand, and stared down in horror. Izanuela was plummeting into space like an enormous wedding bouquet, leaving a long, multicoloured trail of flowers behind her as she spun and somersaulted through the air. She plunged into Malaisea’s expanse of rooftops and her scream died abruptly. All that could be heard thereafter was the whistle of the wind.
‘So she was innocent!’ Ghoolion exclaimed, looking perplexed. ‘Who would have thought it?’ He pocketed the key again, then dragged Echo away from the edge of the roof. ‘I must advertise for another Uggly at once,’ he said. ‘What’s the use of a municipal Alchemaster if he doesn’t have a single Uggly to torment?’
The Wrong Heart
‘I
can’t make up my mind which was your biggest insult to my intelligence: the belief that I wouldn’t have rendered myself resistant to that herbal potion of yours, or the childish expectation that an Uggly could triumph over an alchemist. I really can’t decide between the two. And to think of all I’ve taught you about alchemy, the mother of all sciences! I’m immensely disappointed in you.’
Ghoolion had chained Echo to the alchemical furnace. He was striding back and forth across the laboratory and fiddling with various pieces of equipment while he lectured his captive. The clouds that could be seen racing past the windows grew steadily thicker and darker until they were pierced by only an occasional ray of sunlight. The room was fitfully illuminated by Anguish Candles, of which Ghoolion had lit several dozen.
BOOK: The Alchemaster's Apprentice
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