“Then know ye, O Volka, that you do not value my powers at all,” the old man said in a hurt voice. “No, no, and no again! You will not be late for your exam. Just tell me what your choice is:

to hold up the exam, or to find yourself immediately at your school gates?”

“To find myself at the gates,” Volka replied.

“Nothing could be simpler! You will now find yourself where your young and honourable spirit draws you so impatiently. You will stun your teachers and your comrades with your great knowledge.”

With the same pleasant tinkling sound the old man once again pulled a hair from his beard; then a second one.

“I’m afraid I won’t stun them,” Volka sighed, quickly changing into his school uniform. “To tell you the truth, I have little chance of getting an ‘A’ in geography.”

“In geography?” the old man cried and raised his thin hairy arms triumphantly. “So you’re to take an exam in geography?! Then know ye, O most wonderful of all wonderful ones, that you are exceptionally lucky, for I know more about geography than any other Genie — I, your devoted Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab. We shall go to school together, may its foundation and roof be blessed! I’ll prompt you invisibly and tell you all the answers. You will become the most famous pupil of your school and of all the schools of your most beautiful city. And if anyone of your teachers does not accord you the greatest praise, he will have to deal with me! Oh, they will be very, very sorry!” Hottabych raged. “I’ll turn them into mules that carry water, into homeless curs covered with scabs, into the most horrible and obnoxious toads — that’s what I’ll do to them! However,” he said, calming down as quickly as he had become enraged, “things will not go that far, for everyone, O Volka ibn Alyosha, will be astounded by your answers.”

“Thank you, Hassan Hottabych,” Volka sighed miserably. “Thank you, but I don’t want you to prompt me. We pioneers are against prompting as a matter of principle. We’re conducting an organized fight against prompting.”