Frike's face twisted in sorrow. "I watched out for him, sire, as well as I was able. Dragon manure?"
"Dragon manure. Did he break my stricture and go to the locked room upstairs?"
"That he did, master."
"And once within it, did he find the small locked casket in the upper drawer of my bureau in the closet?"
"He went to it at once, master," Frike said.
"And opening it, did he find the little miniature of the Princess Scarlet?"
"That he did, sire, that he did."
"Then why don't you tell me in your own ill-chosen words what transpired next?"
"Well, sire, the Prince looked upon the visage of the Princess, then looked away, then looked again. Holding the miniature in his left hand, he tugged at his lip thoughtfully with his right. He cleared his throat, going 'ahem, ahem,' like a man who knows not what to say yet feels under a compulsion to say something. He set the miniature down very gently and turned and walked a stride or two away. Then he returned and raised it again. Then he put it down, looked away, and with his left hand this time, pulled gently at his upper lip."
"This is a wonderful detailing, Frike," Azzie said. "But could you get to the nitty-gritty, as the heart of the matter is sometimes described?"
"Most certainly, sir. After bemusing himself with repeated looks, or I could more properly call them glances, at the portrait of the young lady in question, he turned to me and said, 'Frike, this girl is a corker.' "
"Those were his words, eh?"
"His very words, sir. I didn't know what to respond to that, master, so I made a low bestial noise deep in my throat, figuring the young man could interpret it in any way he pleased. Was that all right, sire?"
"Very judicious, Frike. And what happened?"
"Why, master, he paced around a time or two, and then he turned to me and said, 'Why has Uncle Azzie been keeping this from me?' "
"A-ha," Azzie said.
"Beg pardon, sir?"
"Never mind, it was a meaningless interjection. What did you say to him?"
"I said, 'For reasons best known to himself, young Prince,' and again made the low bestial noise in my throat."
"That was well done, Frike. And what happened after that?"
"After more staring at the painting, and fumbling with his lip, and various other movements which I leave out for the sake of brevity, he said, 'Frike, I must have her.' "
"I knew my scheme would work!" Azzie said. "What else did he say?"
"That was all for the first day," Frike said. "By the second, he was getting impatient. He wanted to know where you were.
Since he is a dutiful lad, he wanted your permission before he set forth after her."
"Good lad," Azzie said. "Where is he now?"
"Gone," Frike said. "Soon after, he decided he couldn't wait."
"But where did he go?"
"Why, after the Princess Scarlet, of course. Just as you wanted him to. He waited five days, master, and longer he could not abide due to the fever of passion her picture had inspired in him. Was that not how you wished it, master?"
"Of course. But he needed to have instructions first and the special quest hunting equipment. What did he take?"
"He went into the heavy-equipment closet and selected a sword and armor from the equipment hanging on the wall. And then he took some money you had left in the chest of drawers and said he was on his way and to tell you he'd be back with the Princess and hoped you wouldn't be annoyed with him."
"Damnation!" Azzie cried. He stamped his foot and sank into the earth up to his waist. He extricated himself with difficulty.
Babriel had wandered out of the house upon Azzie's arrival. He had listened and now said, "What's the matter? He's doing what you want him to, isn't he?"
"Yes, but he shouldn't have left yet," Azzie said. "I've set up this quest to be difficult and dangerous. It's the only kind that will get the attention of the High Powers. He is going up against dangerous matters of magic, which common men had best leave alone. And he has none of the magic protection I have been collecting for him."
"What, then?" Babriel asked.
"I must get the things that he needs to him," Azzie said. "And I need to do this quickly, quickly! Did he tell you where he planned to begin his search?"
"Not a word of it, sire."
"Well then, which way did he go?"
"He went straight ahead that way," Frike said, pointing. Azzie looked in the direction indicated. "North," he muttered. "He went north. A bad omen. Frike, we must find him before it's too late."
Chapter 1
Prince Charming rode alone into the great green forest, beyond the familiar fields and hills, into the terra incognita that lay beyond. His way took him into the north, and as he rode he thought about swords. He knew that a Fairly Lucky Sword was not as good as a Truly Enchanted Sword, but it was a lot better than an ordinary sword. He held up the Fairly Lucky Sword and looked at it. It was an exceedingly handsome weapon, with its nicely curling pommel and the tassels around the grip. This was one of the loveliest swords he'd ever seen. It was considerably smaller than the big broadswords that were in vogue in those days, and it was a straight sword, without a curve, none of your Turkish curlicues, thank you very much. It was double edged, sharpened on both sides, and it had a needle point. This would be enough in itself to establish it as one of a special class of sword, since most ordinary swords were only edged on one side and were hardly ever pointed.
The Fairly Lucky Sword was a nice weapon, but it had its problems. There is a general class of Enchanted Swords, and Azzie, in haste to find a magical weapon for his protege, didn't look at the bin he took it out of. He might have thought all Enchanted Swords were the same. He didn't realize that "enchanted" was a generic term for a certain type of sword; that is to say, swords with enchantments of one sort or another upon them.
Enchanted Swords differ greatly in efficacy. There are (or used to be) Unbreakable Swords, and those that never lose their temper. Swords that unerringly kill their opponents are exceedingly rare, although that is the quality every sword-builder tries to get into his blade. All-Conquering Swords can be found from time to time, but these puissant blades generally don't outlast the life of their owner, who, since he can't be overcome man to man in swordsmanship, is typically poisoned by a close friend, a wife, or a wife of a close friend. Even with a perfect sword, humans don't get out of this world alive.
Prince Charming rode through the tangled forest. It was, of course, an enchanted forest. Magical trees just stood there, dark and gloomy, a green world with black shapes flitting across it. This was like the ancient wood of the Old World, concealing hordes of monsters.
Charming came at length into a clearing, in a bright little meadow surrounded on all sides by darkness and menace. At the far end Charming could see a pavilion made of green and orange cloth. A large black horse was tethered to a tree nearby, tall and fine, a proper battle horse.
Charming walked forward and approached the pavilion. There were arms piled outside it: heavy, black armor, splendidly made, encrusted here and there with pearls. Whoever it belonged to, he must be wealthy and doubtless powerful.
Charming saw that there was a slughorn hanging from a standard outside the tent. He raised the horn and blew a loud blast. Before the echo had faded, there was a stirring within the pavilion. Then a man emerged. He was large, black-haired, and scowling. He dragged beside him a fair maiden in a swooning mode.
"Now who is this blows my slughorn?" the knight said. He was clad in brightly striped smallclothes. Seeing Charming, he scowled more deeply.
"La, sir, I am Prince Charming," Charming said. "And I ride forth to rescue the Princess Scarlet from her sleeping spell."
"Ha!" said the knight.
"Why do you say 'ha'?" asked Charming.
"Because it behooves me to make a scornful sound on hearing of this slight and utterly insignificant quest of yours."
"I suppose your quest is
more important?"
"Of a surety it is!" the man replied confidently. "For know, young man, that I am Parsifal, and I quest after no less a thing than the Holy Grail."
"The Grail, huh?" said Charming. "Is it really in these parts?"
"Of course it is. This is the enchanted forest. In it subsist all things, and the Holy Grail is sure to be found here."
"What about the woman?" Charming asked.
"Beg pardon?"
"That woman you're holding by the hair."
Parsifal looked down. "Oh, her. She signifies nothing."
"But what are you doing with her?"
"Must I spell it out?"
"Of course not! What I mean is - "
"I know what you mean," Parsifal said. "She is here for me to toy with until the Grail is in sight."
"I see," said Charming. "By the way, do you need that horse?"
"My horse?" said Parsifal.
"Just thought I'd ask. Because if you don't, I could sure use him. He's a lot bigger and stronger than mine."
"This is the weirdest thing I've heard in a long time," said Parsifal. "This child knight scarcely dry behind the ears comes riding into my camp and he wants to know do I need my horse. Why, no, certainly not, fellow. You can have him if you want him."
"Thanks," Charming said. He dismounted. "That's really uncommon kind of you."
"But first," Parsifal said, "you will have to fight me for him."
"I was afraid there'd be a condition attached."
"Yes, there is. I see you have a Fairly Lucky Sword."
"I do," Charming said, drawing it and holding it out. "Nice, isn't it?"
"Nice," Parsifal agreed, "but of course it's not an Enchanted Sword like mine." He drew his own and showed it to Charming.
"I don't suppose," Charming said, "a sword like mine would be much good against a sword like yours."
"No, in all honesty, I don't think so," Parsifal said. "Fairly Lucky Swords aren't bad, but you can't expect much of them against a real Enchanted Sword."
"I didn't think so. Look, do we really have to fight?"
"I'm afraid we do," Parsifal said, and attacked.
Prince Charming jumped out of the way and swung his Fairly Lucky Sword. The two swords clanged together with an uncanny sound. This was succeeded by an even more uncanny sound when Prince Charming's blade broke.
"I win!" cried Parsifal, swinging up his Enchanted Sword for the death stroke. "Gawg!"
Charming thought he was finished, so he used his final seconds to think over his memories, which in his case didn't take very long.
But Charming's time on Earth was not quite up. Since his sword had been Fairly Lucky, and a very good example of its kind, it happened that when it broke, a single bright shard of metal had flown upward, penetrating Parsifal's throat, where the gorget revealed a fraction of an inch of flesh.
This was the cause of the "Gawg!" Parsifal voiced, before he fell to the earth with a thunderous sound.
"Sorry, but you asked for it," Charming said. He turned and moved away, figuring that someone else would be along after a while to bury the man.
"Take the handsome sword," a voice recommended.
"Who said that?" Charming asked.
"Me," Parsifal's sword explained. "Take the horse, too."
"Who are you?" Charming asked.
"They call me Excalibur," the sword said.
"What do they say about you?"
"Read my runes," the sword answered.
Charming took up the sword and looked at its gleaming blade. Sure enough, there were runes engraved there, though he couldn't understand them. He looked at the sword with respect and said, "Why did you speak to me?"
"I'm not supposed to," the sword admitted. "But I couldn't just let you walk away and leave me. I'll be out of work, and I love my work. You'll find me very useful. If anyone gives you trouble, they'll have me to answer to."
As Charming turned toward the horse, "Hold, sir!" cried the maiden, rising from her semirecumbent position upon the earth. "I beg thee succor me, by thy knightly oath."
Not recalling any oaths of a knightly sort, Charming nevertheless replied, "What sort of succor did you have in mind?"
"I am a Valkyrie," she explained, "and this man overpowered me on a battlefield by feigning death to lure me near. I can only go home to Walhall now if I summon the Rainbow Bridge and have a suitable trophy to take with me. Can you help me locate my horn, which he appropriated?"
"That seems easy enough," Charming replied, "especially if it's the slughorn I blew on my approach. Is that it hanging from the standard by the tent?"
"Indeed it is," she replied, crossing to it, raising it to her lips, and winding it in an eerie fashion.
Instantly, the end of a rainbow fell from the sky, barely missing Charming.
"Thank you, good sir," she stated, commencing to gather Parsifal's armor.
"Don't you want the dead knight?" Charming asked. "I thought you ladies collected them."
"I've no use for a knight who can't keep his myths straight," she observed. "Good armor, on the other hand, is hard to come by." She dinged the breastplate with a sharpened fingernail, carried the pieces to the rainbow, blew him a kiss, called, "Be seeing you," and vanished in a flash of light.
Charming rode off on the charger through the forest with the sword Excalibur strapped to his shoulder, leading his original horse. It was wonderful to feel the sword there. After a while he heard a low murmur beneath his right ear and realized that it was Excalibur, muttering to itself.
"What is the matter?" Charming asked.
"Nothing much. A touch of rust."
"Rust!" Charming drew Excalibur and examined the shining blade. "I do not see it."
"I can feel it coming on me," said the sword. "I need anointing."
"I have no oil."
"A bit of blood or ichor will do very well."
"I have none."
"Then forget about it, laddie, and let me nap and dream of the old days."
That seemed to Charming a very strange thing to say. But he let it pass. He continued on.
Presently, the sword seemed to sleep, because a low even snoring sound came from it. Charming had no idea that talking swords could also snore. He tried to ignore it, and rode along until he passed a man in a friar's cowl.
The friar greeted Charming, and they went their respective ways. But Excalibur said, "Did ye see the sly-naughty look of him?"
"I didn't notice anything of the sort."
"He was planning your destruction," the sword said. "Such insolence! And such malevolence!"
"I didn't think it was like that at all," Charming said.
"Are you calling me a liar?" the sword asked.
"Certainly not!" Charming said, since it is natural to use caution when talking to a talking sword, especially one with runes.
"I hope we meet that friar again," Excalibur said, and rattled up and down with low, sinister laughter.
Later that day they passed a group of merchants. They were civil enough, but no sooner were they out of sight than the sword told Charming that the merchants were actually thieves who were planning to knock him, Charming, over the head, and steal him, Excalibur. Charming said he didn't think so, but the sword would not listen. He finally pulled himself out of Charming's belt, said, "I'll be right back," and flashed off into the forest. He came back an hour later, bloodstained and wobbling.
After that, the sword swore and sang like a drunken person, and finally began to accuse Charming of planning some evil against him, such as melting him down when he came to the next foundry. It was obvious that the sword had a problem.
That evening, when he lay down for a little rest and the sword had gone to sleep, Charming got up and ran away from Excalibur as fast as he could.
Chapter 2
Relieved of the sinister company of Excalibur, Charming continued his search for Scarlet's castle. He moved silently through the forest, huge trees on all sides, vines a
nd creepers using up whatever space was left. It was an undersea kind of landscape, green and wet, with odd noises coming from all around him.
Prince Charming walked. Unfortunately, Parsifal's big black horse had run off with his first horse when he abandoned Excalibur.
Meanwhile Azzie, in Augsburg, was rushing about his mansion frantically, trying to put together the things he needed to give to Charming once he found him.
"Quick, Frike, better put in a bottle of magic wound ointment."
"The edged-weapons kind, sire, or the clubbed-in-the-head kind?"
"Better pack in both, we can't tell what he's gotten himself into."
"Lady Ylith is back, m'lord," Frike advised him.
"Oh? I thought she was keeping an eye on Scarlet. . . . More bandages."
"That she is, sir. Though in your absence she's felt obliged to maintain the agreement on your behalf by reporting developments to the observer on a regular, daily basis."
"The observer? That being Babriel? Of course. Good girl. Where is she now?"
"In the parlor, I believe, conferring with the observer over tea. . . . Here are the bandages."
"I'd best stop by and say a quick hello before we leave. Thanks, Frike."
Ylith and Babriel were stealing glances at each other over tall flagons of wine and exchanging glances through the haze of burnt mist which surrounded the smoking crumpets. They seemed to have developed a taste for each other's company. You could tell by the way Ylith arched her back at every opportunity. As for Babriel, it seemed that some heavenly analogue to desire was working itself out in him.
Azzie bounded into the room, grinning or grimacing as the case may be, causing Ylith to spring to her feet.
"Azzie, dear, I'd thought you still far gone," she announced, rushing toward him, embracing him. "I was just taking advantage of the opportunity."
"Opportunity for what?" Azzie asked.
"Why, to see how things are going on your end of the business," she stated. "How fares the project?"
Zelazny, Roger - (With Robert Sheckley) Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming (v1.0) Page 18
