Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming Part 17

"Yeah, well, you might say that, and a lot else."

"But your contest-the fairy tale you're planning to pre-sent- "

"Finished, over with, shot down,connsumatus est, and all that."

"It hardly seems fair," Babriel said. "But why throw in the sponge so soon? I mean, heck, hang it all, isn't there some-thing you can do? "

"I need to get some gutsia for him. But my Supply people can't seem to find any."

"Can't they, now? Bunch of slackers, unless I miss my guess. Let's see what my fellows can do."

Azzie stared at him."You are going to get me gutsia?"

"That is what I propose," Babriel said.

"But that won't doyou any good!"

"Let me worry about that," Babriel said. "You've been such a nice host, I feel I owe you something. And anyhow, the show must go on, eh?"

Babriel stood up, ducking his head because it was a low grape arbor in which they stood, and reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a plastic credit card. It was very much like Azzie's, only white instead of jet black. It bore on one side a golden representation of a constellation moving toward the position it would occupy at the Millennium's end. Babriel looked around for a place to insert it, but couldn't find one.

"Let's take a walk," Babriel said. "Maybe there's some-thing out here. . . . Ah, here's a bay tree, they're always good," He found a slit in the bay's bark and inserted the card.

"What's supposed to happen now?" Azzie asked.

"Give them a moment to respond," Babriel said. "This is an unusual location for a transmission from an angel of Light, you know."

"How's the Gothic cathedral coming?" Azzie asked.

"The walls are a lot higher," Babriel responded.

In a moment there came a soft explosion, then the sound of a carillon, followed by a fanfare of trumpets.

The supply clerk of Light appeared before them. She was a young blond woman who wore a plain white gown which did not prevent Azzie's noting that she looked pretty good and might be fun to cavort with.

He began to hum the ancient melody called "The Night a Sinner Met an Angel" and edged toward her.

The angel slapped him sharply with the small order book she was carrying. "Don't be crude," she said in a nice voice that showed that although she meant it, she didn't hold his att.i.tude against him. Then, to Babriel: "How may I help you?"

Azzie started to tell her how she could helphim, but Babriel frowned and said, "What I need, dear person, is a quant.i.ty of the herb gutsia, which is used by mortals for the acquiring of courage."

"I knew you wanted it for a mortal," the supply clerk said. "I can tell at a glance that there's no lack of courage inthy makeup."

"It is dear of thee to say so," Babriel said. "Praise the Lord!"

"Praise Her!" said the clerk.

"What?" Azzie said. "I had always been led to believe - "

"We use 'He' and 'She' interchangeably when speaking of the Supreme Principle of Good."

"Sometimes we even call her 'It,' " the clerk said. "Not that we believe that She is an It, but we try to show no prej-udice."

"Can't you make up your minds?" Azzie asked.

"It makes no difference," she told him. "Supreme Good is beyond s.e.xuality."

"That's not what we're taught," Azzie said. "According to our experts, s.e.xuality is the highest expression of evil, especially when it's good.

"As it could be between you and me, babe," Azzie ended, his voice going husky and a disturbing odor of musk emanating from him.

The clerk frowned and patted her hair and turned to Ba-briel. "Canst thou not restrain this ill-visaged specter of evil who leers at me with unveiled meaning?"

"Oh, hey," Babriel said, "that's just Azzie. He's a demon, you know. They're supposed to act that way-irreverent and s.e.xual. Poor soul, he knows no better. But not even demons are utterly beyond redemption."

"Praise the Lord!" the clerk said.

"Aye, praise Him," Babriel said.

Azzie said, "Hey, look, can we dispense with the hosannas and get on with the stuff I need? You two can go courting on your own time."

"What a hateful thing to say!" the clerk said, blus.h.i.+ng and looking away. "I'll check on the gutsia. Wait right here."

She vanished in a beguiling manner.

"You've got cuter supply clerks than we have," Azzie said.

"That's because under the rule of the Good all creatures are equal. Perhaps, since we have to wait, I could explain to you some of the more basic points of our doctrine."

"Don't bother," Azzie said. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Is it so easy for you to do that?"

"Evil is known for its eternal vigilance," Azzie said. "Ex-cept when it gets fed up."

He closed his eyes. Soon the even rhythm of his breathing gave evidence that he was either sleeping or doing a good job of faking it.

Left to his own devices, Babriel said a longish prayer for the salvation and regeneration of all beings, even demons. By the time he had finished, the clerk was back.

"I have the extract of gutsia," she said, handing Babriel a small flask in which colors of red, violet, yellow, and blue could be seen coruscating softly.

"Great," said Babriel. "We thank you. You have been most unfailingly courteous, helpful, kind-"

"Let's get on with it," Azzie said. "Thanks a lot, babe. If you ever want to change your luck - "

The supply clerk vanished in a cloud of indignation.

Azzie went to the kitchen to give Frike instructions in how to mix the gutsia with Charming's cream of leek soup. Grateful as he was to Babriel for procuring it for him, he was deeply suspicious. Why had the angel been so helpful? Pure generosity didn't seem a sufficient motive. Were angels capable of double-dealing? What was Babriel up to?

Chapter 2.

Azzie administered the gutsia that evening, and Charm-ing showed a remarkable improvement. Over the next few days, his fencing skill and aggressiveness picked up. He was no longer interested in his dolls.

All in all, it seemed a good time to Azzie to bring up the subject of his quest.

"I've been meaning to speak to you again about your fu-ture," Azzie said one quiet afternoon when he and Prince Charming were together in the big common room of the castle.

"Yes, Uncle?"

"You remember the things I told you about the Napping Princess?" he asked. "It's about time to head off in her direc-tion."

"I wouldn't mind hanging around court," Charming said.

"Forget it. It's a great adventure that's in store for you."

"That's nice, Uncle. But, you know, I've been wonder-ing why I'm supposed to find her and kiss her and all, anyway."

Azzie took on a tone of deepest portent. "My boy, it was written long ago that only a kiss on the lips from her true love would awaken the Princess from the sleep."

"Hope that works out for her," Charming said.

"Of course it will! You, Prince Charming, are the destined lover and husband of this fair maid."

"Are you sure it's supposed to be me, Uncle? I mean, how do you know it's not some other fellow's quest?"

"Because it is so written."

"Written where?"

"Never mind where," Azzie said. "Just take my word for it, if I tell you it's written, it's written. My boy, you are a very lucky youth. Princess Scarlet is the most beautiful of maidens, and she comes with a rich dowry. It will be difficult and dan-gerous getting to her, but I know you will do fine."

"How difficult? How dangerous?"

"There is an enchanted wood to pa.s.s through," Azzie ex-plained. "You must fight the various denizens of the wood. Then there is the gla.s.s mountain which you must somehow climb."

"This sounds extremely difficult," Charming said. "Gla.s.s mountain, eh? Perhaps I could manage it. I don't know, though."

"I'll see that you come to no harm," Azzie told him. "Trust your old uncle Azzie. Never set you wrong, did I?"

"You won't get a chance this time either," Charming said. "I'm not going."

"At least look at her picture. What do you think?" Azzie asked, showing Prince Charming the miniature.

"She looks all right," Charming said, in tones of profound disinterest.

"Pretty, huh?" Azzie said.

"In a common sort of way."

"Fine bright eyes, eh?"

"Astigmatic, no doubt."

"And the mouth!"

"A regular sort of mouth," Charming said.

"Tiny! Dainty!"

"Smallish," Charming conceded.

"She's lovely, is she not?"

"She's okay, I suppose," Charming said. "But I'm too young to have a princess of my own forever and forever. I haven't even dated yet."

Charming's lack of interest was dismaying. Azzie had not expected this. As a fairly typical demon, he was usually in a state of concupiscence. The very idea that this Prince could be so blase about the beautiful Princess astounded him. It irritated him also, and when he thought about it further, it worried him.

If Prince Charming evinced no more than a polite interest in Scarlet, how could he be expected to go through h.e.l.l and high water to reach her bedside and awaken her with a kiss? With his att.i.tude, he'd be more likely to send her a letter saying, "Time to wake up now, miss."

In vain Azzie pointed out the Princess' charms. Charming met them with a devastating indifference which hurt Azzie's feelings, since the Princess was his creation. But he couldn't be too angry since he had created the Prince as well, and thus was more or less responsible for his att.i.tude.

This was a turn of events Azzie had not expected. It had never occurred to him that his Prince would not fall instantly in love with Scarlet. Now that his cowardice seemed somewhat under control it seemed he was romantically sluggish.

"d.a.m.n!" Azzie observed, gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth. "Oh, d.a.m.n! Another design flaw!"

It was a h.e.l.lish situation.

Chapter 3.

In the evening he put Charming out of the way with a magic sleep. Then he headed for his conjuring room. Frike was there, humming to himself as he topped off vials of agius regae, bloodswart, h.e.l.lbane, and other herbs and simples which wizardly demons find useful.

"Put that c.r.a.p away," Azzie said. "I need to do some conjuring. Bring me ten cc's of bat's blood, some demonswart, and a half gill of black h.e.l.lebore."