The Alchemaster's Apprentice by Walter Moers

Author:Walter Moers
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Overlook
Published: 2010-08-30T20:00:00+00:00

The Second Nut

Now that he was entirely dependent on himself, Echo had to use his own grey matter to devise a new strategy. After running the equivalent of a marathon up and down the castle stairs, he had retired to his basket for a rest and was communing with himself.

‘Where is Ghoolion’s weak spot?’ he wondered. ‘Where is he most vulnerable? He smiles, he laughs, he makes jokes - he even weeps occasionally, so he must have feelings like any other creature.’

He turned over on his back and stared at the ceiling.

‘Why does he have such a passion for cooking? Anyone who’s so devoted to an art that gives other people pleasure must surely be capable of unselfishness. Could I appeal to his better nature? If so, how?’

The ceiling above him suddenly turned gold and something even brighter materialised at its central point. At first Echo thought it was the Cooked Ghost, but then he recognised it as the Golden Squirrel from the Tree of Nutledge.

‘Hello again!’ it squeaked. ‘Are you prepared to let me help you undertake some important cognitive processes?’

Echo stared at the apparition open-mouthed. He could feel a warmth that suffused his whole body with a sense of serene well-being.

‘Those are the sympathetic frequencies that emanate from the Cogitating Eggs,’ said the squirrel. ‘They transmit those powerful vibrations from the Valley of the Cogitating Eggs so that I can pass them on to you. I’m their telepathic postman, so to speak.’

‘Vibrations?’ said Echo.

‘Yes. You could also call them faith. Faith is essential when one has visions like the ones you’re having, otherwise you’d lose your mind.’

‘It isn’t my mind I’m worried about,’ Echo replied, ‘it’s my survival.’

‘That’s why I’m here. You’re working out a new strategy, aren’t you?’

‘I’ve been wondering how to arouse Ghoolion’s pity.’

‘That won’t be easy. He’s got a heart of ice.’

‘But I’ve seen him shed tears.’

‘Perhaps he had something in his eye. Or toothache.’

‘No, there was another reason.’

‘Good,’ said the squirrel, ‘that’s a start, but you’d best begin with yourself. Can you remember any incident in your life that moved you deeply? Anything that aroused your pity?’

‘No,’ Echo replied.

‘Then try! Think! Search your memory!’

Echo did his best. Pity? Compassion? No, he’d seldom had recourse to those emotions in his brief existence.

‘The only person I’ve ever felt sorry for is me.’

‘That doesn’t count!’ the squirrel exclaimed. ‘Think harder! Maybe something will occur to you.’

Echo racked his brains.

‘Have you ever wept, but at someone else’s misfortune, not your own?’ the squirrel prompted him.

Echo recalled the occasion when he’d pushed a blind mole into a stream. Except that he hadn’t wept, he’d laughed.

‘That was malicious glee!’ the squirrel told him disapprovingly. ‘That wasn’t pity, it was the opposite.’

‘I know,’ said Echo. ‘I can’t think why it popped into my mind.’

‘It’s a part of your cognitive process,’ the squirrel explained. ‘Your brain is sorting out suitable emotions. Go on looking. Go back as far as you can.’

A vague memory surfaced in Echo’s mind. An incident he’d almost forgotten, it was so long ago.

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