Zelazny, Roger - (With Robert Sheckley) Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming (v1.0)

by Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming [lit]

  "I know, but this is not one of those times. And your loutish servant is staring at me! I must have a wardrobe, Azzie!"

  "And so you shall!" Azzie cried. "Frike!"

  "Yes, master?"

  "Get into the pentagram."

  "Master, I really don't think - "

  "Don't think. Just do it."

  Grumbling, Frike hunched his way into the center of the pentagram.

  "I'm sending you to Athens. Pick up all the lady's garments you can. I'll bring you back in a few minutes."

  Ylith said, "There's a fur-collared deep blue dress in the anteroom. It's the one with three-quarter-length sleeves. Please be sure to bring that! And in the little closet near the kitchen you'll find-"

  "Ylith!" Azzie said. "We can bring more clothing later, if there proves to be a need. Right now I'm in just the slightest hurry."

  Raising his hands, Azzie recited a spell. Frike vanished in mid-grumble.

  "Well now," Ylith said. "We are alone. Azzie, why didn't you call me sooner? It's been centuries!"

  "I was in the Pit. Lost track of time," he explained.

  He escorted Ylith to the big couch that was pulled up to the fire. He brought her wine and a plate of little cakes he knew she liked. They settled down onto the couch, and Azzie em­ployed one of his minor music spells to call forth a chorus of popular airs of the day. He sat down beside her and looked deep into her eyes.

  "Ylith," he said, "I have a problem."

  "Tell me about it," Ylith said.

  Azzie did, forgetting Frike for several hours, so earnest was his explanation. When he finally conjured Frike back, it was dawn, and the servant arrived yawning, draped in ladies' clothing.

  Chapter 5

  Azzie took Ylith to the lab where Charming and Scarlet, now entirely assembled, lay side by side on marble slabs, veiled with two linen tablecloths, since Azzie had often observed that people look better slightly clad than not clad at all.

  "They make a cute couple, don't they?" Azzie said.

  Ylith sighed. Her long, mobile face was beautiful one mo­ment, sinister the next. Azzie tried to adjust his perception so that he would see only her beautiful side, but it was difficult; witches have obscure feature cyclings. Azzie had felt ambivalent about Ylith for a long time. Sometimes he thought he loved her; sometimes he hated her. Sometimes he tried to solve the problem by attacking it head-on; sometimes he preferred to forget it in favor of simpler problems, such as how best to spread evil and further the general bad. Sometimes - a lot of the time - he didn't know what to do. He loved her but he didn't always like her. But she was also his best friend, and when he had a problem he turned to her.

  "They're real cute," Ylith agreed, "except for the lack of eyes. But you know that."

  "It's why I'm showing them to you," Azzie said. "I've already told you that I'm going to enter them in the Millennial contest. They are going to act out the Prince Charming tale, entirely on their own, no urging from me, utilizing the famous free will that all intelligent creatures are said to possess. And they are going to come to the wrong conclusion and condemn themselves forever. But I need eyes for them, not just any eyes: special eyes. I need enchanted eyes. I need them in order to give the story that special air, that flavor, that fairy-tale savor- if you know what I mean."

  "I understand perfectly, my dear," Ylith said. "And you want me to help? Oh, Azzie, you are such a child! What gave you the idea that I would find eyes for you?"

  Azzie hadn't considered that. He scratched his scalp - scaly-that's what the Pit did to you every time-and consid­ered. He said, "I thought you'd do it because it's the right thing to do. I mean, you want evil to win as much as I do, don't you? Consider if good rules human destiny for the next thousand years: it could put you out of business."

  "You have a point," Ylith said. "But it is not entirely persuasive. Why should I help you? I do have a life of my own, and other business in progress. I'm into administrative work for the coven, and I've been doing some teaching. . . ."

  Azzie took a mental breath, the kind he always took before embarking on one of his really big lies. As he drew in that mental breath his genius and all his faculties took heed and helped him into the role he knew was needed.

  "Ylith," he said, "it's very simple. I love you."

  "Oh, really!" she said, scornfully, but not closing off the conversation. "That's rich! Tell me more!"

  "I have always loved you," Azzie said.

  "You sure acted like it, didn't you?" Ylith said.

  "I can explain why I never called," Azzie said.

  "I'll just bet!" Ylith said, waiting.

  "There were two reasons," Azzie said, not knowing at the moment what they were but saying there were two in case one wasn't enough.

  "Yes? Let's hear them!"

  "I've already told you I was in the Pit."

  "And you couldn't even send a postcard? I've heard that 'I was in the Pit' excuse before!"

  "Ylith, you must simply believe me. There are some things a man can't speak about. But take my word for it, things came up. I could explain if there were time, but the important thing is, I love you; the bad enchantment has ended at last, and we can be together again, just as you have always wanted and as I secretly have wanted, too, though I said otherwise."

  "What enchantment?" Ylith said.

  "Did I mention an enchantment?"

  "You said, 'Now the bad enchantment has ended.' "

  "I said that? You're sure?"

  "Of course I'm sure!"

  "Well, I shouldn't have," Azzie said. "One condition for ending the bad enchantment was that I never speak about it. I just hope we haven't set it off again."

  "What bad enchantment?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Ylith drew herself up to her full height and glared at him. He was really the most impossible demon. Demons are expected to lie, of course, but even the worst would occasionally tell the truth. It's almost impossible not to tell the truth sometimes, by accident. Except for Azzie. But that was not because he had a lying heart. No, it was because he was trying so hard to be really bad. She couldn't help but feel for him. He still appealed to her. And it was not the amusing season in Athens.

  "Promise you'll never leave me again," she said.

  "I promise," Azzie said. Then, realizing that he had ca­pitulated too soon, added, "Under normal conditions, that is."

  "What do you mean, normal conditions?"

  "Conditions that are not abnormal."

  "Such as what?"

  "How would I know?"

  "Oh, Azzie!"

  "You must take me as I am, Ylith," Azzie said. "It really is nice to see you. Have you any ideas about those eyes?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have an idea or two."

  "Be a doll and rush off and get them," Azzie said. "I'm running out of ichor and I don't dare resurrect these creatures before I have eyes for them. It might change their develop­ment."

  "They'll have to wait," Ylith said. "Two special pairs of eyes aren't come by quite as fast as all that."

  "We will all await you, my queen!" Azzie said.

  Ylith gave a raucous laugh, but he could tell she liked to hear that stuff. Azzie waved, Ylith twirled, turned into a rotating column of violet smoke, and then disappeared entirely.

  Chapter 6

  She had been content for many years to hang around in Athens, enjoying parties and good times, having many lovers, and redecorating her house. Witches grow lazy with the passing of time, and tend to rest upon their lau­rels. The sins that witches try to make people commit turn up later to haunt them. They lose their knowledge bit by bit, for­getting what they studied in the great witch schools. Ylith had been vegetating for a long while, before she was called up by Azzie.

  Her reaction now was surprise at herself for volunteering to find eyes for the young couple. Was this really what she wanted to do? Did she love Azzie so much? Or was it more a matter of trying to find a duty to perform, to s
erve something greater than herself? Either way, she felt the need for advice when it came to the second pair of eyes.

  And when it came to wise advice, the sagest counsel she knew was that of Skander. . . .

  Dragons live a long time, and smart dragons not only live a very long time, but also change their names from time to time so that people don't get wise to just how long they're living and get jealous. There's nothing a hero likes to kill more than a really old dragon. The years on a dragon are like the rack on a buck.

  Skander and other dragons became aware of how many heroes were hunting for them, and they grew more and more cautious. Gone were the old days, when they hung around and guarded treasure and took on anyone who came along. The dragons were doing very well at that game, too, although all you hear about are hero victories. There were plenty of dragon victories, but there were only a few dragons and an endless supply of heroes. The heroes kept coming, until the dragons got wise to the whole game.

  There was a big conference held, at which many views were heard. The Chinese dragons were the most numerous at that time, but they were so jealous of their wisdom and so determined that no other dragon would get it, that all they said, when their advice was asked, were things such as, "It furthers one to see the great man." "You will cross the water." "The superior man is like sand." And the Chinese philosophers, who had a taste for obscurity, collected these into books, which they sold to Westerners in search of wisdom.

  The final decision at the conference was to bow to neces­sity, give up some of the more aggressive tactics, which had given dragons bad repute, and maintain a low profile. Dragons voted universally to give up their time-old pursuits of Hoarding and Guarding in favor of the new disciplines of Ducking and Dodging. Don't just stand around guarding treasure, they an­nounced to each other. Fade into the landscape, live at the bottoms of rivers - for many dragons were able to live under­water- gilled dragons, they were called, that fed on sharks and killer whales and mahimahi. The land dragons had to adopt a different strategy. Land-based dragons learned to conceal them­selves as small mountains, hills, even as clumps of trees. They gave up their old habits of ferocity, contenting themselves with an occasional hunter who strayed into their territory. Once in a while a dragon went back to the old practices, and eventually got hunted down and killed. That dragon's name would go down in the Dragon Hall of Heroes, and the rest would be advised not to act like him.

  Skander was old even by dragon standards. He was there­fore super wily and stayed out of trouble. He lived in central Asia, somewhere near Samarkand, but he had been around since before the city was founded. You could have searched for ages and not found Skander if he didn't want to be found. But if you did find him he was often a helpful dragon, and he had a vast store of lore. He was also quirky, however, and given to mood swings.

  Ylith knew this, but she had to make the attempt. She picked up a bundle of powerbrooms, the sort you can fly on. These were the witches' greatest accomplishment. They ran on spells, which the Witches' Sisterhood put together at their head­quarters in Byzantium. The power of spells ran in cycles, some years good, others not so good. Spells were subject to natural forces, but these were not clearly understood, and there were occasional recalls.

  The logical starting place, it seemed to her, was the place she had met Skander last time: Dragon Rock. Dragons are clever enough to know that men will never search for a dragon at a place called Dragon Rock.

  Many heroes had ridden through the area, most of them bearing only the light curved sword of the region, which would do no good against a dragon anyway. Not that Skander cared to try issues even with these lightweights. Skander's hide with its overlapping scales was able to withstand the blow of an avalanche, and he thought nothing of swords unless they were backed up with really powerful spells. But humans were sneaky; they'd seem to be aiming at a shoulder, and then, pow, you'd get an arrow in the eye. Somehow dragons, despite their ex­treme intelligence and centuries of experience, were prone to getting arrows in the eye. They never fully caught on to the trick that men used, of pretending to shoot in one direction and then actually shooting in another. It wasn't according to dragon practice, and went against their idea of a warrior's ethics.

  For whatever reason, Ylith had met Skander at Dragon Rock, where she had been visiting relatives who had recently moved to the area from Scythia. Skander at that time had been taking advantage of a rare shape-changing spell that had come his way. Dragons are always in search of shape-changing spells because, being intelligent, they aspire to appear in human so­ciety. Although humans don't know it, dragons in altered shapes have been present in many of the courts of the world, where they love to argue with philosophers. More often, though, drag­ons simply get tired of all the years alone, all the more alone since dragons of either sex are suspicious of dragons of the opposite sex. It is for this reason, not for lack of opportunity or lustiness, that dragons rarely mate, and it is even more rare that they have young. Among the dragons who do have young, there's no agreed-upon rule as to which parent is to bring up the children. There's not even consensus on who bears them. The dragons did away with most of that instinctual stuff ages ago. Creatures of reason now, they fought over these matters among themselves. It is said that in the settling of these argu­ments, much of the race of dragons was wiped out.

  And heroes had a field day against dragons in their con­fusion. It amazed dragons to think that knights-beefy guys in metal suits-could kill them, since the humans were so ob­viously unintelligent and had only their court rituals going for them. But the humans were winning because they were single-minded about killing, while the dragons were single-minded about nothing at all.

  Ylith flew to the Samarkand region and made inquiry in the town of Yar Digi, the nearest village to Dragon Rock. It was a low, miserable place, and there was nothing on its one street but souvenir shops. These were filled with dragon lore, but there were no customers. When Ylith asked about this, a bookstore owner named Achmed told her, "It is because the long-awaited boom in dragon lore has not yet come to pass. Other places are getting all the attention. In Britain, for ex­ample, where no dragons have stirred for centuries, they run guided tours of where they used to be, and outsell us a hundred to one. Where is the dragon? Somewhere up the trail over in his cave at Dragon Rock. But no one ever seems able to find it unless the dragon wants visitors. And you never know about that. He's quirky."

  Ylith went in the direction indicated and, after paying her entrance fee, was allowed onto the path. Moving along it, she rounded a number of turns, passed a small refreshment stand, passed Dragon Rock itself. Nothing resembling a cave was apparent at either hand.

  It was not until she heard a deep, resonant chuckle that she halted.

  "Skander?" she called.

  The sound came again.

  "It's me, Ylith."

  Suddenly she became aware of a shadowy place between two boulders which might be more than shadow. Moving to it, she saw that it continued back into a greater darkness. She entered there.

  At what point she passed within the greater darkness of the hillside she could not be certain. Yet, after a time, the echoing of her footfalls convinced her that she was entirely indoors.

  "Skander?" she repeated.

  There was still no reply, but she became aware of a faint illumination ahead and to the right. Following it around a bend, she entered an area where the stone itself seemed to glow- overhead and at either hand. With this visibility, she increased her pace. The passage branched several times, and in each instance she followed the path of greater brightness.

  At length, she came to a chamber where the dark, scaled form she sought reclined, staring at her. Save for the eyes, she might have missed him in the stillness. She halted upon the threshold, uneasy.

  "Skander. It's me. Ylith," she said.

  He cocked his head and lowered his eyelids slightly.

  "Yes. It is, isn't it?" he observed. "How long has it been?"

  "
Long. What are you doing?"

  "I was dreaming of the Renaissance."

  "What is a Renaissance?"

  "I'm sorry, I'm getting my centuries mixed up," he replied. "The Renaissance comes later. That's the trouble with being prescient. You can never tell then from now."

  "Skander," Ylith said, "I need help."

  "Just as I thought," the dragon said. "What else would bring you out to this remote place? What is it you want, my dear? The old flames are still plenty hot. Want me to burn someone up for you?"

  "I need eyes," Ylith said, and explained about Azzie and Prince Charming and Princess Scarlet.

  "Eyes," Skander murmured, and his hide, normally a red­dish brown, turned pasty white. There was a prophecy she had suddenly brought to mind.

  "Why do you stay in this place?" Ylith asked.

  "It's the quest for fame, you see," Skander said. "The people here are going to publicize me. I promised to put this place on the map. It hasn't happened yet but it's bound to come."

  "Where can I get some really good eyes?" Ylith asked.

  "Eyes," Skander mused. "Why, there are eyes everywhere. Why do you bother asking me?"

  "You know where the best ones are. All dragons do."

  "Yes, of course," Skander said. "But I'd really rather not discuss eyes, if you don't mind."

  "You don't want to discuss eyes?"

  "Just superstitious, I guess. Sorry."

  "Care to tell me about it?"

  "All right," he said. "Long ago, in China, I saw that when­ever the court artist painted dragons he always put in the eyes last. When I asked him of this, he told me that this act gave the painting a special sort of life, and it wouldn't do to summon this life until everything else was done. A wise man had told him that the eyes of my kind are the focus of the spirit. They hold the life, they are the last things to go. I looked up that wise man then-an old Taoist monk-and he assured me that this was true. He also prophesied that a witch asking after eyes in my presence represented a total reversal of Yin and Yang."