Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming Part 6

"Where do you want me to put this castle?" the clerk asked.

"Just a minute, this won't work. I really do need two castles. I have two different beings. One of them has to get from his castle to the castle of the woman he loves, or thinks he loves. I really need two castles."

"How about one castle and one very large house?"

"No, it's entirely out of the spirit of the game."

"Make do with one," the clerk suggested. "You can shuttle them around. It's easy enough to change the appearance of a castle. Especially when rooms keep on disappearing."

"I suppose I'll have to," Azzie said. "Or I could use my chateau for one of them. How soon can you send it?"

"Hey, for you I'll get on it right away," the clerk demon said, in a voice that implied Azzie wouldn't see that castle before h.e.l.l froze over. Azzie caught the tone and tapped the black credit card. It flashed: "DO WHAT HE SAYS! NO HORS-ING AROUND!"

"All right," said the clerk. "I was only kidding. Where do you want this castle delivered?"

"Do you know a region of Earth called Transylvania?"

"Don't worry. I'll find it," the clerk said.

"Uh, wouldn't know where I could turn up a good head, would you? Human? Male?"

The clerk just laughed.

And so it was that Azzie left Supply and returned to Earth, where nearly a week had pa.s.sed. He went to the Chateau des Artes and was irritated to discover that Frike was nowhere to be found. He went outside and mounted his horse. He was going to ride into Augsburg and seek him out.

Storming into the office of Estel Castelbracht, he asked directly whether he had seen the man. There seemed no need for great subtlety.

"Indeed I did," Castelbracht said. "He was hurrying down the street, and he went into the house of Dr.

Albertus over yon. I heard him muttering something about a head - "

"Thank you," Azzie said, pa.s.sing him money, as was his wont on dealing with anyone in an official capacity, when he could afford it.

Chapter 8.

The doctor's house was at the end of the little lane that led to the town wall. The house stood all by itself, a tall, narrow old building with ground floor of stone and upper levels of dressed timber. Azzie marched up the steps and swung the great bronze knocker.

"Who knocks?" came forth a voice from inside.

"One who requests knowledge," Azzie said.

The door was opened. Standing in the doorway was an elderly, white-haired gentleman who wore a fine Roman tunic in spite of this garment having been out of fas.h.i.+on for some hundreds of years. He was tall and stooped, and he walked with the aid of a long cane.

The old gentleman said, "I believe it is Lord Azzie, is it not?"

"That is correct," Azzie said. "I've been told that my ser-vant, Frike, might be found here."

"Ah, of course, Frike," the old gentleman said. "Won't you come this way, sir? By the way, I am Master Albertus."

He led the way into a gloomy interior, past a cluttered parlor, past an unkempt kitchen and scullery, to a cheerful little drawing room in the back.

Frike was standing by the fireplace at the far end of the room. He smiled when Azzie came in.

"Frike!" cried Azzie. "I thought you had deserted me."

"Nay, master," Frike said, "I would not dream of it. What happened was that during your absence, I took myself to the village tavern in search of companions.h.i.+p, and there to quaff the strong red wine that gives this region its ferocious valor. There I met this gentleman, Messer Albertus, who is my old master from the days when I was an apprentice in Salerno."

"Yes," Messer Albertus said, his eyes twinkling, "I know this rogue Frike well enough, Lord Azzie. I was overjoyed to hear of his good luck in getting into your employ. I brought him to my house to give him a.s.sistance in the matter he is helping you with."

"What help exactly are you speaking of?" Azzie asked.

"Why, lord, it seems that you require a few first-rate body parts. And I happen to have a particularly choice item in my laboratory."

"Are you a doctor?" Azzie inquired.

Albertus shook his white-tressed head. "I am an alchemist, my lord, and body parts are often useful in my occupation. If you will come this way ..."

Azzie followed the aged gentleman, and was followed in turn by Frike. They went down the hall to a barred door. Albertus unlocked it with a key carried on a thong around his neck, and they followed him down winding flagstone stairs to a well-made alchemist's laboratory in the cellar. There Albertus lit an ancient oil lamp. By its glow, Azzie could see tables covered with alembics and cysters, and on one wall, a chart of chakra locations from India. On the bookcases that lined one side of the room there were mummified bits and pieces of per-sons.

"A pretty place," Azzie commented. "My compliments, doctor! But these specimens are very old. They may have an antiquarian value, but they are of no interest to me."

"These are simply surplus items," Albertus said. "Now, look here and see what I have."

He went to a small vat resting on a side table. From it Albertus lifted a human head severed at the neck.

The face was that of a young man, deathly pale, but quite handsome, and this despite the fact that where eyes had been there were now only reddened holes.

"How did he meet his fate?" Azzie asked. "And what happened to his eyes?"

"He had the bad fortune to lose them, my lord."

"Before or after his death?"

"Before, but only moments before."

"Tell me about it."

"With pleasure," Albertus said. "This fellow's name was Phillipe, and he lived in a village not far from here. Handsome indeed he was, far handsomer than a young fellow had any right to be. Everything came easy for him, and the more he got, the more he wanted, and the less satisfied he became. One day he beheld Miranda, daughter of a wealthy man hereabouts. She was just fifteen at this time, and beautiful as dawn upon the mountain. Delicate and pure she was, and she had planned to live her life in utmost purity, aspiring only to do good.

"Having seen her, Phillipe became inflamed of her, and though it is said he was a coward, he aspired still to winning her. One day Phillipe climbed the wall around her father's house and went into the churning room and spoke to her. Miranda had been raised in isolation, and had never seen a man like this.

Everyone in her father's household was old except for her three brothers, and they were away fighting in one war or another.

"Phillipe seduced her with sweet words and impa.s.sioned tales of his own trials. Miranda was softhearted, and she was greatly moved to learn that he was sickly and apt to live but a little while longer.

A lie, so he thought, but a prophecy as it turned out! He feigned a fainting spell, and she let him put his arm around her to support himself. They touched. And so one thing led to another.

"It is a tale often told, alas. In brief, he seduced her, and she ran away with him, for he swore that he would take care of her. But when they came to the first large city, Civalle in Provence, Phillipe abandoned her and went his own way.

"Alone, Miranda had a desperate time of it until she became the model for the painter Chodlos. She lived with him for some months as his mistress and they seemed happy enough. Chodlos was a big bear of a man, but not strong despite his size. He was always jolly, though too much given to drink. He painted his famous Magdalene with Miranda as his model. He could have been truly great. But before the year was out, he was dead, his head broken in a tavern brawl.

"Miranda was heartbroken, because she had loved the painter. Chodlos' creditors took away all the furniture and his paintings, and turned Miranda out of the apartment. She had no money and no place to go. Finally, as the only alternative to starvation, she went to work in a brothel. But bad luck was not through with her yet. One night a madman came to the brothel. No one knows what transpired between him and Mi-randa; but before anyone could stop him, he had put out her eyes, and then cut her throat.

"Hearing of this, her brothers, Ansel, Chor, and Hald, came to the city for revenge. The madman was already dead, torn to pieces by a mob. The brothers found Phillipe drinking in a tavern with a new light o'

love. They bent him back over a table, told him he would die as Miranda had died. Then they tore his eyes out and cut his throat. That is the history of the head that you here behold."

"It's actually a very nice head," Azzie said, lifting the head and looking into its ruined eye sockets. "Now what I need is a matching female head. This Miranda. A madman killed her, eh? Master Albertus, do you know what happened to her body? And most especially, her head?"

"Alas, I know not," said Albertus.

"You have helped me greatly," Azzie said. "Name your price for this head."

PRIME.

Don't Leave h.e.l.l Without It

Chapter 1.

"Master, look at this."

It was the fourth head Frike had broughtin that week. This one was a dark-tressed lady who still looked pretty good, especially if you could repair her nose, which the worms had gotten at.

"No, Frike, it won't do." Azzie sighed and turned away.

"But why, lord? She's perfect!"

"There's only one who could be considered perfect."

"Who is that, lord?"

"Frike, the perfect accompaniment to our Prince Charming will be Miranda, the girl Phillipe seduced."

"But we do not know where she is!"

"Not yet." Azzie got up, prowled around restlessly for a moment. "But we will find her."

"The head has probably gone moldy by now."

"You can never tell. If by some good fortune her face is not obliterated, she will be my Princess Scarlet in the little charade I am preparing."

"But, lord, we have no clues as to its whereabouts."

"We'll start in Civalle, where she died. She's probably buried there."

"Master, it's a waste of time. You have little time left anyhow before the contest, and there is much to do."

"Pack our horses, Frike. I am an artist in these matters. I must have Miranda's head for my Princess."

"She had a gaudy history, master, but why this particular wench?"

"Don't you see, Frike? It makes my plan more elegant. We will bring these lovers together again after death. Their conscious memories will be gone, of course. But something will remain. Something that will help bring a fine conclusion to my tale of Prince Charming and Princess Scarlet. We must find her body and hope that the face is still all right. Go, ready the horses."

Frike packed the horses and they set out to Civalle in southern Provence. It was late June and travel was easy and pleasant. Frike had hoped that Azzie would transport them by super-natural means. Azzie said the distance was too close to go to all the bother of setting up a travel spell and activating it.

They arrived in Civalle, a pleasant southern city near Nice. From Albertus' description it was easy to find the brothel where Miranda had been killed. Azzie made inquiries of the madam and learned that her brothers had taken her remains away, no one knew where. Azzie rewarded her well for the information and asked if a garment of Miranda's remained. The madam found an old s.h.i.+ft and sold it to him for two gold soldi. Whether it was indeed the genuine article, he could not be certain-yet.

When they left the brothel, Frike said, "What now, mas-ter?"

"You'll see in due course," Azzie replied.

He and Frike departed the town and pa.s.sed into the forest. After a long while they camped, making a dinner of cold meat pie and boiled leeks. Afterward, at Azzie's instructions, Frike built a fire. When its flames finally leaped high, Azzie removed a small vial from the chest in which he carried his magical paraphernalia. He removed from it a single drop of dark liquid and let it fall into the fire.

The flames flared even higher. Frike cringed back.

"Pay attention," Azzie ordered, "for this is educational. Perhaps you have heard of the fabulous hunting dogs of the old G.o.ds? We have something better nowadays."

As the flames subsided three large birds flew into the camp and landed near Azzie. They were ravens, with small, sinister eyes.

"I hope all is well with you," Azzie said to them.

"We are well, Lord Demon," one of them replied.

"Meet my servant, Frike. Frike, meet the Morrigan. They are supernatural Irish birds, and their names are Babd, Macha, and Nemain."

"Pleased to meet you," Frike said, remaining well back, for they looked upon him with fierce appraisal.

"What can we do for your lords.h.i.+p?" Macha asked.