The Alchemaster's Apprentice

Ugglyology


Echo couldn’t remember getting into his basket when he awoke the next morning. He must have fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion in the Alchemaster’s arms; and no wonder, after so many gruelling incidents. Although he had slept for many hours he felt completely shattered and was aching in every limb.

Ghoolion had made him a lavish breakfast - a bowl of cocoa, a plate of scrambled eggs with crispy bacon, three croissants and honey - and deposited it right beside his basket. Echo tucked in at once, finished off every last morsel, then went up to the roof to discuss the previous night’s events with Theodore T. Theodore.

The Alchemaster was pottering around in the laboratory, wholly absorbed in his work. He paid as little attention to Echo as did the squeaking, snoring Leathermice, who were digesting their latest feast of blood in the Leathermousoleum when he passed through. After all his unnerving experiences, Echo relished the fresh air and the view from the roof. He made for the clump of Cratmint and sniffed it until its therapeutic, euphoric properties took effect. Then he climbed to the foot of Theodore’s chimney.

‘I told you he has his ways and means,’ Theodore reminded Echo after learning of his abortive attempt to escape and his encounter with the Snow-White Widow.

‘But how did he do it?’ Echo demanded. ‘I mean, he’s not a magician or anything, but I felt bewitched. I hurried back to the castle as if he were reeling me in like a fish. It was like sleepwalking while awake.’

‘I don’t know how he did it either, but his technique boviously works. He has his ways and means, that’s all.’

‘What do I do now, though? I was almost clear of the town, so he knows I meant to run away. Perhaps he’ll kill me even sooner to prevent me from having another try. He looked straight through me in the laboratory just now.’

‘Yes, it’s true, your bond of trutual must has been severed, so to speak.’

‘I’m at my wits’ end, honestly. All I can do is wait until my time is up.’

Theodore stared at Echo for so long that the little Crat began to feel uncomfortable.

‘Listen, my young friend,’ he said finally. ‘I’ve been giving your broplem a lot of thought.’

‘Really? Have you come to any conclusion?’

‘Yes. I’m going to have to tell you bit about the Ugglies.’

Echo made a dismissive gesture with his paw. ‘I’ve no wish to know anything about the Ugglies. I’ve always steered clear of them.’

‘And why have you cleared steer of them?’

‘Well … Because they smell nasty.’

‘That’s one reason, to be sure. The smell of an Uggly takes some getting used to. Any other reason?’

‘They’re also supposed to bring people bad luck.’

‘Do you believe that?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Echo. ‘I don’t believe it’s unlucky to walk under a ladder, either, but I never do. It’s just a habit.’

‘You could also call it a suterspition.’

‘Call it what you like.’

‘What do you imagine Ugglies do when they aren’t busy bringing people bad luck?’

‘They kidnap little children and turn them into soup.’

‘What?!’

‘I was only joking. They, er, foretell the future.’

‘Aha. What else?’

‘They produce ointments and potions against toothache and warts and so on.’

Theodore raised his right wing. ‘Let me get this straight: they tell people what the future holds in store and produce demicines nebeficial to their health.’

‘Correct.’

‘So why do people clear steer of them?’

‘No idea. Look, I’ve nothing against Ugglies, I just don’t like the way they smell.’

‘If they don’t do anything really bad - if they only do good or at least do no harm - why do you think they’re treated so badly in Lamaisea?’

‘How should I know?’ Echo protested.

‘It’s because of Ghoolion - because he turns people against them.’

‘Oh, yes, maybe. He even writes books about them.’

‘Correct. And why does he turn people against them?’

Echo grunted. ‘What is this, an interrogation? I’m the one who asks the questions as a rule.’

‘Very well, I’ll tell you: it’s because Ghoolion is scared of the Ugglies.’

‘I can’t believe that. He isn’t scared of anything or anyone, not even the Snow-White Widow.’

‘Everyone’s scared of something. Herpaps the Ugglies know something about him. Or he knows something about them that frightens him. Wouldn’t it be interesting to find out what it is?’

‘All right, perhaps he is scared of the Ugglies. So what? How does that help me?’

‘If anyone in Lamaisea has worked out how to put one over on Ghoolion, it’s them. The Ugglies could be your only hope.’

Echo turned thoughtful. ‘But are there any left here? It’s ages since I saw one.’

‘Ghoolion has succeeded in driving most of them out of Lamaisea, it’s true. He did a thorough job, but I know there’s still one around. I’ve sighted her occasionally on my renossaicance flights, gathering herbs in the Toadwoods.’

‘But how am I to find her?’ Echo said plaintively. ‘I’ve never been in the Toadwoods.’

‘She doesn’t live there. She lives right in the middle of Lamaisea, in Uggly Lane.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Ugglies aren’t allowed to live anywhere else. It’s quite simple: since all the Ugglies except her have moved out, all you need to do is go to Uggly Lane after dark. You’ll find her in the only house with wighted lindows.’

Echo shivered. ‘You expect me to go there in the middle of the night? Haven’t you heard all the stories they tell about Uggly Lane?’

‘Yes. Sinister stories.’

‘That’s putting it mildly. They’re quite sinister enough to deter one from going there after dark. I’ve never set foot in the place, even in daylight.’

The Tuwituwu eyed Echo gravely. ‘But the last Uggly in Lamaisea is your only hope. She alone can save you, I’m afraid.’

‘All right,’ said Echo, eager to dispose of such an unpleasant subject. ‘Perhaps you’re right. It’s worth a try.’

‘Then don’t wait too long,’ Theodore advised him. ‘And now, tell me some more about the Snow-White Widow. Was it really an eye you saw in the midst of all that hair? How scafinating!’