The Alchemaster's Apprentice - By Walter Moers Page 0,81

air is forever filled with the pounding and hissing of machinery, the squeak of rusty hinges and the rattle of chains. Many of its inhabitants are machines themselves. It’s a vile city, perhaps the vilest in all Zamonia.’

Ghoolion nodded again. ‘You’re doing pretty well,’ he said. ‘Very atmospheric. That’s just the way it looks.’

‘You know the place?’ Echo asked.

‘I do indeed. But go on.’

‘Now picture this contrast: the lovely girl and the hideous city. Beauty and the beast. Innocence and a metallic Moloch.’

‘I can imagine it,’ said Ghoolion. He was gazing into the distance once more.

‘She was the daughter of a lead tycoon and lived in his fortress built of precorrodion - that’s a very special kind of metal which rusts on the surface but, beneath that deceptive layer, consists of impenetrable steel. The fortress had loopholes instead of windows and, instead of doors, drawbridges spanning a moat filled with acid.’

Echo paused for a moment. His storytelling was quite a success. He’d ignited a spark of interest in Ghoolion, he could tell.

‘When our lovely heroine at last reached marriageable age, the lead tycoon invited every young man in the city to take part in a contest for his daughter’s hand - provided he had a certain amount of money. Like everything else in Ingotville, the contest involved metal: who could bend the thickest iron bar, who could bring lead to the boil the fastest, who could forge the finest sword, who could throw a gold ball the farthest - that sort of thing. In the end there were only three suitors left. The decision now depended on their mental agility. Our heroine had made it a condition that she would ask each of them three questions and the one who thought of the cleverest answers would be awarded her hand in marriage.’

Ghoolion had grown quite still. He wasn’t even puffing at his pipe, just staring at Echo with an inscrutable expression.

‘But the questions were so subtle and ingenious that none of the suitors managed to come up with sensible answers to them. The lead tycoon was at his wits’ end, the onlookers started to grumble. They felt they’d been duped by our shrewd and beautiful heroine, who seemed unwilling to bestow her heart on anyone at all.’

Echo paused for effect.

‘But then another young man entered the arena. He apologised for being late and whipped through the first part of the contest at lightning speed: he bent the thickest iron bar, brought lead to the boil the fastest, forged the finest sword, threw a gold ball the farthest, et cetera, et cetera. Then, at last, he faced our heroine’s questions.’

Ghoolion had deposited his cold pipe on the kitchen table. He seemed even more affected by the story than Echo had hoped, yet the climax was still a long way off.

‘Well,’ Echo went on, ‘it was obvious to everyone present that our heroine had taken a fancy to this young suitor. He was extremely good-looking, but I shall refrain from giving a description of him in this case too. Simply picture the handsomest young man imaginable.’

‘That’s easy,’ Ghoolion said in a curiously unemotional voice.

‘Really?’

‘I need only picture the opposite of myself.’

Echo was surprised by Ghoolion’s modest self-assessment, but he took it as a good sign.

‘Our heroine put her first question: “How much is one plus one?”

‘A murmur of approval ran round the room, now that it was clear she’d fallen for the young man and wanted to make his path to her heart as easy as possible.

‘“Two,” he said.

‘“And how much is two divided by two?”

‘“One,” he replied.

‘A few people laughed and the lead tycoon heaved a sigh of relief. Our heroine put her third and last question: “If I asked you to do me a great favour, one that would deprive you of your heart’s desire, would you do it?”

‘Another murmur went up and the lead tycoon looked round in bewilderment. What sort of question was that?

‘“Of course,” the young man answered gravely.

‘“Come with me, then,” said our heroine. She took him by the hand and led him from the room, leaving a confused babble of voices behind them. When they came to a secluded part of her father’s fortress, she paused and gazed into his eyes.

‘“Please listen,” she said. “I’ve taken to you, I must confess - very much so, in fact, but the problem is this: I’m engaged already. My heart belongs to another.”

‘The young man didn’t reply.

‘“My father still doesn’t know this,” the girl went on. “I took