The Alchemaster's Apprentice

Epilogue


Anyone even vaguely familiar with my writings will know that I have never disguised my profound respect for the works of Gofid Letterkerl. For me, his novel Zanilla and the Murch is still one of Zamonian literature’s outstanding achievements, and most of his other books also rank high in my estimation.

My godfather Dancelot Wordwright read me Letterkerl’s Echo the Crat again and again when I was a youngster, and I have cherished a special liking for that slim novella ever since. I shall not attempt to explain or justify my predilection here; instead, I shall simply leave the story, which can now be read by anyone so inclined, to speak for itself. My sole concern is that Letterkerl’s tale of the Crat and the Alchemaster be accessible to as many readers as possible.

Echo the Crat is the first of seven so-called Culinary Tales, all of them written by Letterkerl and set in the Zamonian town of Malaisea. The ‘culinary tale’, a literary genre originated by Letterkerl himself, has inspired countless imitators. One has only to think of Glorian Gekko’s Princess in Pea Soup, Rimbo Demoniac’s Incorrigible Liver Pâté or Knulf Krockenkrampf’s The Potato Tycoon. But Letterkerl not only founded this genre; he brought it to a pitch of perfection. None of his imitators has ever succeeded in producing such a close-knit fusion of literature and the culinary arts. Even today, many physicians advise their overweight patients to avoid reading his Malaisea stories on the grounds that they promote obesity.

But let us face facts: Gofid Letterkerl is perhaps the supreme exponent of classical Zamonian literature. He attained his greatest popularity hundreds of years ago and his style - I say this with all due respect and circumspection - was considered, even during his lifetime, to be as ponderous as a wardrobe and as much an acquired taste as a trombophone concerto. I myself have always been enraptured by his style because it conveys Orm6 in its purest form. However, I can well imagine that Letterkerl’s linguistic idiosyncrasies are more likely to drive modern readers, especially those of the younger generation, into the arms of certain authors of light fiction whose names I shall refrain from citing here. (The Prince Sangfroid novels are a case in point. Need I say more?)

I have, therefore, taken the liberty of transposing Echo the Crat into a somewhat more up-to-date New Zamonian idiom so as to reacquaint the public with the novella and, I hope, assure it of renewed popularity.

I have also ventured to rework the story a trifle and provide it with a new title. I have called it The Alchemaster’s Apprentice for commercial reasons, I freely admit, because how many modern readers would buy a book about a harmless little Crat named Echo? The word ‘Alchemaster’, on the other hand, immediately conjures up mysterious happenings and hair-raising alchemistic horrors. And so, if you picked up this book purely because of its title, be honest and admit it. Don’t be ashamed of never having previously read such an Orm-infused story because you found its original title insufficiently sensational.

Furthermore, I have been presumptuous enough to amplify Gofid Letterkerl’s story with a few improvisations of my own, for without them the creative element would be lacking.

I can already hear critics accusing me of robbing the dead - of spiritual theft. Suffice it to say that Letterkerl’s oeuvre is out of copyright, and how can anyone steal something that belongs to all?

So go ahead and sue me!

Optimus Yarnspinner





1

A Zamonian mammal identical to a domestic cat in outward appearance and other characteristics, the only difference being that it can talk and has two livers. [Tr.]

2

A Zamonian cousin of the bat, to which it bears only a distant resemblance. It possesses a mouselike or ratlike head of appalling ugliness and is covered in leathery, almost impenetrable skin instead of fur. Vampire bats and Leathermice are quite similar in their social behaviour and diet, notably in their unpleasant predilection for drinking blood. [Tr.]

3

An exceedingly unpleasant Zamonian arachnid. Its appearance precisely matches its name. [Tr.]

4

See the chapter entitled ‘The Trombophone Concert’ on p. 114 of Optimus Yarnspinner’s The City of Dreaming Books. [Tr.]

5

See p. 354 of Optimus Yarnspinner’s Rumo & His Miraculous Adventures. [Tr.]

6

According to Dancelot Wordwright in Optimus Yarnspinner’s City of Dreaming Books, p. 20: ‘A kind of mysterious force reputed to flow through many authors at moments of supreme inspiration.’ [Tr.]