"And now," Azzie said, "we must go to work. Midnight is past; the time of evil is at hand. Are you up for what may come, Frike?"
"Indeed I am."
"And what do you expect as your reward?"
"Only to continue serving you, lord," Frike said, "after death as before."
Thus Azzie knew that Frike knew who, or rather, what he was. He was pleased to find so intelligent a servant. He bade Frike pack the things. They would set to work at once.
Chapter 6
Before anything else could be done, Azzie needed a place from which to operate. The Inn of the Hanged Man possessed many fine features, but the space was too limited and the other customers too apt to be curious. And as Azzie and Frike gathered their specimens there was the problem of the smell. Azzie knew several master spells to keep human meat relatively fresh, but not even a magic spell could take away the odor of death and decay that hung over his work. Even hiring men to bring down ice from the Alps was insufficient, for keeping constant relays going would be a monumental enterprise. And the Powers of Darkness had vetoed his scheme in this regard, saying it didn't warrant the expense, and it would call too much attention to him and his work.
The question, then, was where to locate the home and alchemical laboratory that would be needed. He needed to stay close to the heart of Europe because that was where the action was. He settled finally upon the town of Augsburg, in the Alps near Zurich. It was a fine small city, located on a trade route. This meant that he could purchase from passing vendors the spices and simples he needed for the work. Augsburg was also good because it was a well-known center for witchcraft. Since everyone there suspected everyone else of sorcery, no undue suspicion was likely to fall upon him.
He met with the burgomeister and arranged the long-term rental of the high-steepled Château des Artes on the northern edge of town. This noble old building, built over the ruins of a Roman villa which had been lived in by a praetor in the old days of the Roman empire, suited him admirably. Since the cellar was extensive there was no problem over where to keep his growing collection of body parts. And finally, he was near enough to Zurich and Basle to ensure a good supply of additional material from the medical schools in those areas.
But it was summer, and even his preserving spells were pushed to their limits. Finally, he had to resort to an additional remedy. It was known of old that when anything organic was put into a vat containing ichor, it kept for a long time. Indeed, ichor was the universal solution, good to drink, capable of miracles when used for other purposes.
Obtaining a sufficient quantity of ichor proved a problem, however. Supply tried to keep every drop of it for themselves. It was only after asking Hermes Trismegistus to intercede for him that Azzie received a quantity adequate for his purposes. And even then he had to counsel Frike, on pain of great torture and possible death, not to touch the precious supplies.
The breasts, haunches, kneecaps, and elbows were easy enough. Ribs and shoulders were in good supply. But Azzie wanted to know the antecedents of every piece of meat he bought, and this knowledge was often beyond the ken of the men he dealt with. Bit by bit, as the warm days wore on with a deepening of greens and the spread of summer flowers, he collected a goodly mess of pieces. But these were the least important parts. The heads, the faces, the hands-these were crucial, and hard to come by.
More days passed, summer storms rattled and rolled, and it seemed he was getting no closer to his goal. He assembled a sample human which stumbled about gibbering until he put it back in the rendering vat, a poor dottering idiot. The creature's brain had evidently decayed before it could be preserved. Azzie began to wonder whether he hadn't bitten off more than he could chew.
But the bright days of summer made the year's-end deadline seem an eternity away, and he called in laborers to repair the château. He hired husbandmen from nearby villages to put in quick-growing crops. He found these chores an oddly satisfying way of passing the time while the head-hunt went on.
The Château des Artes was conveniently situated for journeys south to Italy, west to France, east toward Bohemia and Hungary. So while he filled his time with householder's tasks, he sent Frike far and wide on a big gray horse, two pack animals trailing behind. While Frike turned up many curious and useful items, it seemed a slack season for heads. Heads . . .
He told the mayor of the town, Estel Castelbracht, that he was engaged in various researches to find cures for the plague, the ague, and the tertian fever, which had been sweeping these parts since Roman times. He explained that it was necessary to conduct his researches on human flesh, with methods learned from the great alchemists of the period. The mayor, and then the people, took him at his word, for he seemed a jolly sort, never reluctant to treat local sick, very often with good results.
While doing this, Azzie was also considering the props he would need for his Prince Charming game. He sent to Supply for lists of goods, but their replies were always vague, filled with stipulations such as "if still in stock" or "out of stock, more expected soon." What was especially annoying was their response to his request for two castles, one for Prince Charming, the other for Princess Scarlet. The powers at Supply, speaking to him through an oracular owl, told him that they were clean out of castles at the moment. Azzie argued with them, explaining that this was a priority job which had the imprimatur of the High Demon Council. "Yes," they said, "they are all priority jobs, and we can only do what we can. ..."
He decided he'd better go to Supply, look over their stores himself, and set aside what he would need when his Prince and Princess were ready to be assembled. Yes, it was time to go to Limbo, that ill-defined region where are shaped the supernatural events that push and pull at the mixed destiny of mankind. And keep an eye out for the proper head ...
Chapter 7
Azzie departed with a feeling of regret. He knew that he should not allow himself to get sentimental over land he would occupy for only a short time, and which he lived on only in order to serve a special purpose. Still, all that work on the mansion and fields . . . He had never put that much of himself into a place before, watching it change in accord with his wishes. It was beginning to feel kind of ... homey.
And the journey to Limbo was not without its dangers. There was always difficulty passing from one realm to another. The laws of a realm, like those of Earth itself, are not to be understood completely. How less completely, then, were understood the strange laws which governed the movement between realms.
Luckily, nothing went wrong this time. He made the necessary preparations and spoke the Greek words, the Hebrew exclamation. The fire flared and he suddenly occupied a spot on a long plain, bleak black mountains on either side. The sky was white and hot and there were occasional green swirls in it, as of djinns flying fast in formation.
Just to get around in Limbo was a considerable chore, since its extent was limitless. Luckily, some of its more important places existed reasonably close together and they exerted something of a pull which drew visitors to them. And there was the Roc service, of which Azzie was able to avail himself. The huge birds had been extinct on Earth for a long time, because of difficulties in making a living after the Pleistocene. But with their broad backs, they were admirably suited for taxi service in this place.
Supply looked like a huge series of warehouses set in the middle of the plain. Supply had wanted plenty of room. Here, Supply's space was sufficient to store all of the living rooms on Earth, with plenty of room left for kitchens and stables. In actual fact, they had never tried to fill all their warehouses. The number of things they would need was limited only by human imagination, which at one time or another sought all things. The number of things that could be of use in the invisible powers' continual attempt either to enlighten or subvert humanity was never-ending and called upon everything under the suns. You could never tell when some demon would need a Thracian spear from A.D. 55 or something equally esoteric. Supply simulated most of what was asked for
, and Supply possessed some of the most imaginative scene designers ever known.
Supply was built on a bank of the Styx, that stupendous river that runs through Earth and all the heavens and hells, and upon whose dusky surface the ancient boatman, Charon, plied his way between the centuries and the worlds. The supernatural powers he sometimes served considered Earth the greatest game ever conceived and had no wish to be disconnected from any aspect of it, no matter how far in the future or the past.
Azzie dismounted from the Roc. He walked rapidly, occasionally gliding when walking grew onerous, and made his way down the long streets, both sides of which were flanked with warehouses. All of the warehouses had the sign, UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL STAY OUT. Armed Salis, the neutral spirits of Limbo, stood guard. They were armed with energy dissipators. These weapons, which resembled spears with gun sights and triggers, let forth rays of pattern-disrupting particles (though some said waves) which would disrupt the personality pattern of even the greatest of the demons, "whipping his brains to tapioca" in the phrase popular that year. Azzie gave them a wide berth. Limbo had become a dangerous place of late, and this was due more to the guards than the guarded.
At length he came to a warehouse which had an unguarded door. Over it was the sign, INQUIRIES MAY BE MADE HERE. It was a surprisingly blunt statement for so vague and conceptual a place, but Azzie lost no time going to it.
Inside he found about twenty demons of all sorts and degrees waiting their turn to lodge complaints with a bored young demon clerk who wore a plaid golfing cap in defiance of temporal clothing regulations (demons can go into the past or future, but they are not supposed to bring back souvenirs).
Azzie flashed his black credit card and pushed his way to the head of the line. "This is top priority," he told the clerk. "I've got full clearance from the High Demon Council."
"Is that a fact?" the young demon asked, unimpressed.
Azzie showed his black credit card.
"Is what he says true?" the clerk asked the card.
"BELIEVE IT!" the card flashed back.
"All right," the demon said. "What can we do for you, Mister Big Shot?"
Azzie resented the young demon's attitude but decided now was not the time to make an issue of it.
"The first thing I need," Azzie said, "is two castles. I know that's a lot to ask, but I really need them."
"Two castles, huh?" The young demon eyed him unsympathetically. "I suppose your whole plan will fail if you don't have them."
"That's exactly right."
"Then resign yourself to failure, buddy, because we have only one castle, and even that isn't a proper castle; it's mostly an outline with a real wall and barbicon, but all the rest is mental construct held together by old magic spells."
"That's ridiculous," Azzie said. "I thought Supply had an unlimited number of castles."
"That was true quite some time ago. But recently the premise has been changed. The possibilities have been narrowed. It means a lot more trouble for everyone, but it keeps things interesting. That, at least, is the theory of the Supply-side deviltry."
"I never heard of it," Azzie said. "Do you know what you're talking about?"
"If I did," the clerk said, "would I be in this menial job, telling guys like you they can only have one castle?"
"All right," Azzie said, "I'll take the castle you've got."
The clerk scribbled something on a sheet of parchment. "You'll have to take it as is. We haven't got time to patch it up any further."
"What's the matter with it?"
"I told you about the magic spells that hold the place together. There're not enough of them, so parts of the castle disappear every now and then."
"Which parts?" Azzie asked.
"That depends on the weather," the clerk said. "Since the castle is bound together by dry-weather spells, long periods of rain play hell with its provisional existence."
"Isn't there a plan of some sort showing which parts vanish when?"
"Of course there's a plan," the clerk said. "But it needs updating. You'd be crazy to trust it."
"I want it anyway," Azzie said. He had a lot of respect for scratchings on parchment.
"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 château 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 Hell froze over. Azzie caught the tone and tapped the black credit card. It flashed: "DO WHAT HE SAYS! NO HORSING 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 passed. He went to the Château 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, passing 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 fashion 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 servant, 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 companionship, 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 assistance 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 persons.
"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.
Zelazny, Roger - (With Robert Sheckley) Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming (v1.0) Page 6
