The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,128

shape.

‘An ancient mechanism left behind by the Rusty Gnomes,’ Ghoolion explained. ‘It still works, but I don’t know how.’

So he knew of the existence of the dwarfish race whose skeletons Echo had discovered in the building. Echo made no comment because he was far too fascinated by what was happening now. Light was issuing from the aperture. Only a little at first, but the bigger it got the brighter the light became.

‘What’s that?’ Izanuela enquired nervously.

‘It’s the entrance to my treasure chamber, my blossom,’ Ghoolion replied. ‘Or should I say, to our treasure chamber? Your assumption that you were being wooed by a poverty-stricken wretch wasn’t entirely correct, so the fact that you accepted my proposal notwithstanding does you twice as much credit. It has intensified my love for you to an immeasurable extent! I should now like to acquaint you with my true financial circumstances. Kindly follow me, my dears, and feast your eyes on a thing of beauty: the greatest treasure in Malaisea!’

He ducked through the opening, which had now attained the dimensions of a doorway, gently pulling Echo after him. Izanuela hesitantly followed. They were suddenly bathed in a golden glow that seemed to come from all directions at once. The chamber was as spacious and high-ceilinged as several others in the castle, but this one was unique. It consisted entirely of gold. A gold floor. Walls papered with gold leaf. A gold ceiling composed of massive gold panels. A huge, thick carpet woven out of gold thread. A candelabrum of gold with gold candles. A gold fireplace with gold coals in a gold grate. Gold pictures in gold frames on the walls. A gold library comprising thousands of gold books. Cupboards, armchairs, upright chairs and a long refectory table, all of gold. A gold pipe in a gold ashtray. Even the knocked-out ash and the charred match were of gold. Beside them were a half-eaten apple and an open book with a pair of glasses lying on top of it. They, too, were of solid gold.

Echo and Izanuela were dazzled by all this splendour, and even Ghoolion shaded his eyes with his hand. The chamber was invested with its magical refulgence by the dozens of Anguish Candles that were creeping or standing around on tables, shelves and cabinets.

‘Isn’t gold the loveliest of all the elements?’ Ghoolion asked without waiting for an answer. ‘Not the rarest, nor the most useful, nor the most effective, but the loveliest.’

Echo tried to tread on the carpet, but the pile pricked his paws like needles. He swiftly removed them.

‘You gilded the whole room?’ said Izanuela. ‘Why?’

Ghoolion smiled. ‘I didn’t gild it. Everything here is made of solid gold. The table, the shelves, the books, every stone in the walls. Go and touch it.’

Izanuela went over to the table and picked up the apple. It was quite an effort.

‘My, that’s heavy!’ she gasped. ‘You’re right, it’s solid gold!’

Ghoolion walked across the chamber with his arms outstretched. ‘Yes indeed!’ he exclaimed. ‘Tons and tons of it. More than a hundred men could carry.’

‘Was it always here?’ Echo asked. ‘Did you discover this chamber?’

‘The chamber and its secret mechanism, yes. I found an old parchment in the cellar and managed to decipher it. It bore the formula required to open the door, the language of the stones. But the walls and furniture, floor and ceiling, carpet and books - they were still composed of the materials such things are usually made of. Stone, wood, iron, wool, leather, paper.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Izanuela. She was admiring her own reflection in a pot-bellied gold vase. ‘How did all these things turn into gold?’

‘Echo,’ Ghoolion commanded, ‘quote me alchemy’s four supreme objectives.’

Echo didn’t have to think for long. ‘To find the Philosopher’s Stone. To construct a perpetual-motion machine. To attain immortality. To transform lead into gold.’

Ghoolion nodded proudly as the last words were uttered.

‘Can you really transform lead into gold?’ asked Izanuela.

‘Not only that!’ Ghoolion said triumphantly. ‘I can transform almost anything into gold. Any relatively solid substance. Any metals, of course, apart from quicksilver. Wood, too. Stone. Dust. Wax, as long as it’s firm. Lead too, naturally.’

‘You told me once it was impossible,’ said Echo.

‘I had to keep it a secret, of course. You have a nimble tongue, my friend, not to mention a command of every language in existence. Imagine what would happen if it became known that I can manufacture gold - any amount of it! This castle would be under siege! Every mercenary