by Walter Moers
They escorted him into the ante-room, where he went over to the table with the weapons laid out on it. Pandemonium reigned in the auditorium. Ushan could hear the roaring of wild beasts, the despairing cries of prisoners. He could smell fresh blood and the cold sweat of fear, but there was nothing out there capable of filling him with dread. He was Ushan DeLucca, and he was in the best of spirits.
He scanned the table. Choosing a weapon was no problem. He would naturally take a sword – the first one that came to hand, as long as the blade was good and sharp. He picked one up and slashed the air with it.
‘Ssst, ssst, ssst!’ he went. ‘Ssst, ssst, ssst!’
The diamond tipped pliers
General Ticktock was roaming the streets of Hel. The roadway shattered under his ponderous tread and all who encountered him leapt aside in terror.
What was this pain inside him? Nonsense, he was incapable of feeling pain! He had no nervous system – he was a machine. But in that case why was he in such agony? What was this thought that obsessed him? The thought of Rala’s death? He realised that hidden within him, in the depths of his body with its bristling array of weapons, was something capable of suffering. Never had he felt that more clearly than he did now.
At last he came to a halt. This was the street. This was the house.
It was the weaponsmith’s house where he had found the Metal Maiden – the accursed Metal Maiden, which had once more become a worthless accumulation of junk. She was nothing without the soul that Rala had given her.
He kicked in the door, which he had ordered to be sealed. The workshop looked just as he had left it. The weaponsmith, now a skeleton, was still lying on the floor.
General Ticktock had come in search of something.
He was after the huge, dangerous-looking pliers with diamond-tipped teeth, which looked as if they could have torn a Copper Killer apart. Where were the confounded things? He overturned work benches and shovelled scrap metal aside, sending screws and iron components flying through the air.
There! There were the pliers!
He weighed them in his hand. Yes, they were powerful pliers with an ingenious hydraulic mechanism and sparkling teeth tipped with diamonds of the first water.
General Ticktock applied them to his ribcage. Surely they would help him to discover the accursed thing that was causing him so much pain deep inside.
The Silver Thread
Rumo, Smyke and Kolibri had agreed that Ribble should stay behind with the elderly Wolpertings, pretend to be guarding them and keep the outer door locked. Xugo and Yogg were bound, gagged and carried into the main hall, where they were covered with straw. Smyke, Kolibri and Yukobak would accompany Rumo to the Theatre of Death and release the other Wolpertings. Yukobak’s intimate knowledge of the building would enable them to enter it unobserved.
But their plan was shelved as soon as they left the prison. Before setting off for the theatre, Rumo sniffed the air again, and the scene that unfolded in his mind’s eye was just as dismal and dismaying as his dark, grimy surroundings, which held the scent of many other Wolpertings. That scent led in the direction of the theatre.
But he could also see the Silver Thread.
His heart gave a leap. Yes, it was really here – here in the midst of Hel. Slender but radiant, it floated above the infernal stench. Rala was here, quite close at hand.
‘We must go that way,’ said Rumo.
‘But the theatre’s in the opposite direction,’ Yukobak protested.
‘I know, but I’ve picked up Rala’s scent.’
‘Really?’
‘Huh?’ said Smyke. ‘And who, pray, is Rala?’
Ticktock’s tower
While they were following Rala’s scent, Rumo tried to explain who she was. He told Smyke about Wolperting, Nurn Forest and the casket – getting everything back to front, of course.
‘In other words,’ said Smyke, summarising Rumo’s incoherent recital, ‘you’re besotted with her.’
‘Most interesting,’ said Kolibri. ‘A Silver Thread. Visible smells and emotions, eh? It reminds me of my experiments with the ostascope. A Wolperting’s sense of smell has yet to be fully researched.’
Meanwhile, Yukobak was doing his best to make them look like a motley bunch of prisoners under escort and hoping not to bump into any soldiers. Even so, the combination of a Wolperting, a Shark Grub, a Nocturnomath and a Helling was bound to attract the attention of anyone who passed such a strangely assorted group.
‘Move it!’ cried Yukobak, brandishing Rumo’s sword. ‘Move it, you miserable bunch of slaves!’
At last Rumo paused outside a dark tower.
‘Rala’s in there,’ he said.
Yukobak flinched. ‘What?! In there of all places? That’s General Ticktock’s tower!’
‘You mean General Ticktock is here in Hel?’ asked Smyke.
‘Yes, he commands the Copper Killers. They guard the prisoners in the theatre.’
‘In that case,’ said Smyke, ‘it’s curtains!’
‘I’m going in,’ said Rumo. ‘Rala’s in there.’
‘What if General Ticktock’s at home?’ asked Yukobak.
‘Then I’ll kill him. Give me my sword.’
‘Oh, sure,’ Yukobak said with a sigh, ‘of course you’ll kill him. No problem.’
The threesome
Although convinced that what awaited him there would be unpleasant, Urs felt relieved when he was finally permitted to enter the arena.
The auditorium was packed. Friftar, standing beside the balustrade of the royal box, cried, ‘The Theatre of Death presents … Urs of the Snows!’
Urs was greeted with thunderous applause.
He wondered what it would be this time. Soldiers? Wild beasts? Both at once? Or something even more formidable?
Another gate opened and Ushan DeLucca sauntered into the arena. His sword flickered through the air.
‘Ssst, ssst, ssst!’ went Ushan.
‘The Theatre of Death presents … Ushan DeLucca!’ cried Friftar.
The applause swelled.
Urs was impressed. Another Wolperting? He hadn’t been expecting that.
A third gate opened and Rolv strode in.
‘The Theatre of Death presents … Rolv of the Forest!’
The spectators rose, yelling delightedly and stamping their feet.
Urs was puzzled. Ushan and Rolv? Were the three of them going to fight as a team?
‘Threesome!’ bellowed the audience. ‘Threesome! Threesome!’
The Wolpertings stood in the middle of the arena with flowers and garlands raining down on them. Friftar raised his arm and the applause died away.
‘In case you aren’t familiar with the rules of a threesome,’ he called to the prisoners below, ‘allow me to acquaint you with them.’
Ushan, Rolv and Urs glanced at each other in surprise.
‘A threesome’s main essential,’ cried Friftar, ‘is that two of the participants end up dead, not just one. The stupidest fighter always dies first. He’s the one with the most qualms about killing one of the others in league with the third. Once he has been dispatched, the two survivors fight to the death.’
‘We won’t fight each other,’ Urs shouted up at the box.
Gornab joined Friftar at the balustrade. ‘Tell them!’ he hissed. ‘Tell them wath to ecpext if they feruse!’
‘Oh yes,’ Friftar called, ‘I almost forgot. If you refuse to fight each other we shall march your elderly compatriots into the arena, one by one, to act as targets for the Copper Killers – until you change your mind. And believe me, change it you will. Let the threesome commence!’
‘Threesome!’ the audience chanted again. ‘Threesome! Threesome!’
Ushan made his blade whistle through the air. ‘Ssst, ssst, ssst!’ he went. ‘Shall I tell you what I like best down here?’
Urs and Rolv stared at him.
‘The weather, that’s what.’
‘There isn’t any weather down here,�
� said Urs.
‘Exactly.’ Ushan smiled. ‘I know you couldn’t care less, but you’ve no idea how much it means to me. Down here I feel as if I possess supernatural powers. Ssst, ssst, ssst!’
‘What precisely are you getting at?’ Urs demanded.
‘He wants us to team up against him,’ said Rolv. ‘He wants to play the hero.’
‘I’m not fighting any Wolperting,’ said Urs.
‘We’ll have to fight whether we like it or not,’ said Rolv. ‘They’ll kill our people otherwise.’
‘Then kill me first,’ said Urs, ‘and fight it out between you.’
Rolv groaned. ‘Another hero!’
‘Ssst, ssst, ssst!’ went Ushan. ‘For those who are a trifle slow on the uptake, I’ll say it again. I taught you youngsters the tricks of the trade, but down here I’m worth two of you. Your only hope is to join forces against me. Besides, it’s the only way of gaining time.’
‘Gaining time for what?’ asked Urs.
‘No idea,’ said Ushan. ‘A miracle, perhaps.’
‘Agreed,’ said Rolv. ‘I can use some time. I plan to nab that crazy king of theirs.’
‘In that case,’ Ushan said with a smile, ‘let’s combine business with pleasure.’
A prophecy fulfilled
The copper-sheathed door of the black tower was open and Rumo had entered without hesitation.
This was a warrior’s home, no doubt about it. There were stacks of weapons all over the place – swords, axes and blades of every description. The big mirrors standing among them reminded Rumo of Ushan DeLucca’s fencing garden.
‘Hey,’ Yukobak said in a whisper, ‘I don’t think we ought to snoop around in General Ticktock’s private quarters, it could mean a death sentence.’
‘There’s nobody here,’ said Smyke.
Rumo took the stairs three at a time. On the floor above he found another door ajar. Raising his sword, he kicked it open.
‘Anything up there?’ Smyke called from below.
As Rumo entered the chamber containing the Metal Maiden it all came back to him. Within a single instant, past, present and future, prophecy and fulfilment became fused into one: the annual fair, the gloomy Star Tent, the professor with several brains, the chest-of-drawers oracle. There it was, the sight that Rumo had seen in the open drawer, the sight that had once been the future but was now a terrible reality: he saw Rala’s lifeless body lying in a coffin.
Rala was dead.
Rumo felt faint. He dropped his sword and slumped to the floor. Then he passed out.
Ribble the rebel
Ribble was standing in front of the weapons rack when he heard footsteps approaching. The rack held an assortment of swords, axes and spears. In the sewers he used to be armed with a trident, but it was ages since he’d held a weapon in his hand. Hastily, he grabbed a spear.
Someone rapped on the outer door.
‘Who is it?’ Ribble called as smartly as he could.
‘Orderly officer!’ barked a voice. ‘Open up!’
‘No can do!’ Ribble replied.
‘Why not?’
‘Quarantine. An epidemic has broken out among the Wolpertings.’
‘I’m not here to inspect the Wolpertings, only the guard.’
‘Hell,’ muttered Ribble.
‘What did you say?’
‘Er, nothing.’
‘So open up, or do I have to fetch reinforcements?’
Ribble opened the door.
The orderly officer was a Bluddum. He came in, looked around in a sceptical manner and stationed himself in front of Ribble, whom he topped by several heads.
‘Xugo and Yogg are supposed to be on guard duty. Where are they?’ he snapped.
‘Off sick, sir!’ barked Ribble.
‘Sick? What, both of them?’ asked the Bluddum. ‘I saw them only this morning. They were fit as fiddles.’
‘They’re under observation,’ said Ribble. ‘It’s this epidemic.’
The Bluddum took a step backwards.
‘Is it catching?’
‘Very.’
The Bluddum eyed Ribble suspiciously.
‘What are you doing on guard duty, anyway? I’ve never seen a Homunculus here before.’
‘I’m the first – the first Homunculus in the guard detachment. It’s an idea of Friftar’s.’ Ribble saluted.
‘So why aren’t you in uniform? What’s that outfit you’re wearing?’
‘I had to surrender my uniform for disinfection. The epidemic, you know.’
‘Why are you on your own here? Two sentries are the regulation number.’
‘My comrade has gone off for a pee, sir.’
‘Peeing on duty is against regulations.’
‘Yessir! I know the regulations.’
‘Really? Then I’m sure you also know the regulation that says carrying a crossbow is obligatory while on guard duty. Spears are prohibited.’
‘Yes, I know it, but all the crossbows are needed at the theatre.’
‘Ah, so you know it, do you? That’s odd, because no such regulation exists. Who exactly are you?’ The Bluddum reached for his sword.
Ribble’s spear shot out and caught him in the throat. The Bluddum’s knees buckled. With a gurgle he crashed to the floor and lay inert at Ribble’s feet.
Yes, Ribble asked himself, who exactly am I? A servant? A citizen of Hel? No, no longer. Then it came to him. He gave the Bluddum’s corpse a kick.
‘You wanted to know who I am?’ he said. ‘I’m a rebel.’
For Rala’s sake alone
Rumo regained consciousness to find Smyke, Yukobak and Kolibri bending over him. He was lying on a table on the ground floor of the tower. He tried to sit up, but he was too weak.
‘Lie there for a moment, Rumo,’ said the professor. ‘You’ll soon feel better.’
‘Where’s Rala?’
‘Still upstairs.’
‘Is that the Rala you were talking about?’ asked Smyke.
‘Yes,’ said Rumo. ‘What happened to her?’
‘Someone killed her,’ said Yukobak. ‘What’s more, he must have tortured her first. It can only have been General Ticktock. No one else sets foot in this tower.’
‘She can’t be dead,’ Rumo said. ‘I can see the Silver Thread. I can still detect her scent.’
‘At the risk of sounding irreverent,’ Kolibri said gently, ‘the dead have a scent too. It doesn’t disappear until they turn to dust.’
‘I must go to her,’ said Rumo. He rose with an effort and made for the stairs.
‘Spare yourself, my boy,’ said Smyke.
Rumo climbed the stairs. He knelt beside Rala’s leaden coffin and wept, and the prophecy was fulfilled at last. He remained kneeling there for a long time, just as he had seen himself kneeling in Professor Nightingale’s tent. When he rose to his feet again he made a resolution: everything he did from now on he would do for Rala’s sake alone.
Two against one
Down here, thought Urs, Ushan DeLucca was truly worth two of him and Rolv, if not three or four. He whirled across the arena with them as if this were a dancing lesson, and the fencing master was definitely in charge. Urs had never seen Ushan so light-footed, so good-humoured and full of ideas. What a pity he was wasting his talent on a fight with members of his own kind.
‘Ssst, ssst, ssst!’ cried Ushan. ‘I’m as light as a feather! I’m as venomous as a scorpion! I’m as quick as a dragonfly! Ssst, ssst, ssst!’
The trio had begun by performing some innocuous feints and parries to create the illusion of a genuine fight, but the knowledgeable spectators had soon caught on and started to boo.
‘Is that the best you can do, boys?’ cried Ushan. ‘This isn’t a fencing lesson – we can’t just go through the motions. If you don’t try harder those Bluddums will soon be using our people for target practice. Attack me! Attack me in earnest! Try to kill me!’
‘I can’t do it,’ Urs called back.
‘You aren’t th
at good,’ said Rolv. ‘I could wound you.’
‘No, Rolv, you couldn’t!’ Ushan retorted. ‘No one could. You could try your utmost to kill me and you wouldn’t even scratch me. Try it! Come on, attack me!’
He whirled around them. ‘Take that! And that! And that!’ he cried, showering them with blows. Urs and Rolv felt slight pricks all over their bodies, as if they had run into a swarm of bees.
‘I could have killed you five times over, each of you! Come on, we’ve got to fight! Not for our own lives but for the others. Enough of this fooling around! Try to kill me! You won’t do it anyway, you amateurs!’
‘If I try to kill someone I kill him,’ said Rolv.
Ushan halted and lowered his blade. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? I’m invincible! Must I teach you a lesson?’
He remained motionless as Rolv and Urs circled him.
‘You aren’t in your fencing garden now, Ushan,’ Urs said in a low voice, ‘and I’m not one of your backward pupils.’
‘Yes,’ said Rolv, ‘don’t bite off more than you can chew, old stager!’
‘Ssst, ssst!’ was Ushan’s only response. Rolv and Urs doubled up in pain and clutched their noses, because each of them had sustained a cut on his most sensitive sense organ. The spectators roared with laughter.
‘There,’ said Ushan DeLucca. ‘Now will you attack me? Now are you prepared to kill me?’
Strategic plans
General Ticktock’s tower was now the fugitives’ temporary headquarters. Rumo, who had recovered his composure and gone downstairs again, calmly conferred with the others on what to do next. It was quickly agreed that the puny little Nocturnomath and the overweight Shark Grub would be little use in a fight. Kolibri and Smyke were to remain with Rala’s corpse and guard it, because Rumo insisted on taking it back to Wolperting once he had freed the others. Meanwhile, Yukobak would accompany him to the Theatre of Death.
‘Just do what you did on Roaming Rock,’ Smyke told him.