Still, it was disconcerting to see, as he watched through the window, bits and pieces of the Enchanted Castle disappearing.
He looked again, toward the stables. Half of them had disappeared while he was looking the other way. He reminded himself that they'd have to get out of here soon. This castle wasn't going to last long, the way the power of its protective spells was running down.
"Darling! Come down! Our guests want to meet you!"
Scarlet's voice floated up the staircase to the bedroom where Prince Charming was supposed to be arranging his tunic. He liked to have his clothes look good. He knew this party was a big occasion for Scarlet, because this was the time she was bringing over Cinderella and other storybook friends. Charming wasn't completely sure how he liked having all his friends imaginary beings from folklore, but it seemed to be working out all right.
He was interested in the way the Enchanted Castle worked. As he stood there, watching, he could see a piece of the entrance road which led under the castle wall. Suddenly a section of the wall vanished. A stone gargoyle on one of the battlements disappeared.
"Charming!" Again, Scarlet's voice. "Where are you?"
A slight petulance to the voice ... It occurred to Charming that he didn't know his sweetheart very well. He had assumed that the eternal happiness promised to them in the fable was of the self-creating, self-adjusting kind, not meaning he had to do adjustments himself. All right. . . .
With a final glance at his appearance in a tall mirror, he departed and went down the stairs. Below him, in the great ballroom, an orchestra in black tie and white perukes was sawing away at something polyphonic. The guests stood about, under the great crystal chandeliers, sipping champagne and nibbling canapes.
There was Scarlet, arm in arm with Cinderella, who had become her greatest friend. It had been Cinderella's idea to have a waking-up party for Scarlet. It would also serve as an engagement parry for Scarlet and Prince Charming.
Prince Charming recognized two famous Irishmen among the guests. They were Cuchulain and Finn McCool. Looking around, he saw other heroes from France, Germany, from the Orient - Roland, Siegfried, Aladdin.
They saw him, and a round of applause went up. There were exclamations of "Well done, old man!"-the words one wants most to hear after having awakened the Napping Princess. They sang a rousing chorus of "For He's a Jolly Good Hero."
Yes, moments didn't get much better than this, Charming decided. Even if bits of your enchanted palace are breaking away, even if Princess Scarlet has a bit more of a whine than you might have wished, his moment of triumph was sweet.
So he felt all the more trepidation when there came a loud pounding on the gate. It reverberated through the castle, and every guest stood still and gazed at the doorway.
Prince Charming said to himself, Rats! Good events don't usually introduce themselves so emphatically.
"Who is it?" he called.
"One who would crave a favor," came a muffled voice from outside.
Charming was about to say no, but then he realized that on this day of his triumph he had to face up to what came along. Storybook heroes who are about to marry the Napping Princess don't refuse to answer the door of the Enchanted Castle to anyone, no matter how bad the premonitory vibes.
"Well," Charming said, "I really don't have time for a big favor, but maybe a little favor ..."
He unbarred the door. The man who entered reminded him of someone. But where could he have met this tall, grim-faced warrior with the brazen helmet pulled down about his ears?
"Who are you?" Charming asked.
The warrior pushed back his helmet. Charming found himself looking into the bearded half-mad face of Frike.
"Frike!" Charming said. "It's you! But there's something different about you ... let me think a moment. . . . I've got it! You used to be rather small and hunchbacked, and now you are quite tall, well muscled, and with no indication of a limp."
"You are observant," Frike said, smiling in a bloodthirsty manner.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"As for that," Frike said, "my master, Azzie, sent me."
"I hope he is well."
"He is fine. He has sent me here to fetch him something which I shall put in here."
Frike opened a leather satchel he carried. Within it was a sharp odor.
"Vinegar!" said Charming.
"Ye say true," said Frike.
"And why bearest thou a satchel filled with vinegar to this enchanted castle?"
"The vinegar is for the purpose of preserving that which I would bring away with me."
Charming did not much like the way the discussion was going, but he said, "And what would you bear back from here in vinegar, Frike?"
"Ah, lad, it's thy head I've come for."
"My head?" cried Prince Charming. "But why should Uncle Azzie want that of me?"
"He's angry at you, boy, because Princess Scarlet didn't kill you when she was supposed to. Thus he lost the contest between Darkness and Light which is played out on the eve of each Millennium. He's decided you're sly and unreliable and he wants your head."
"But it was not my fault, Frike! And even if it had been, why should Azzie hold a grudge against me merely for trying to preserve my life?"
"It's illogical, I'll grant that," Frike said. "But what can you do? He's a demon, and he's bad, very bad. He wants your head and I'm here to take it to him. I hate to tell you this, for it is your wedding day. But I have no choice over timing. Say good-bye to your Princess. It is to be hoped you have enjoyed her favors betides, because there'll be no aftertides when I've taken your head ensor."
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Charming said.
"Better believe it. I'm sorry, kid, but that's how it goes in fairyland. Ready?"
"Wait!"
"Nay, I wait for nothing!"
"But I have no sword!"
"No sword?" Frike said, lowering his blade. "But you must have a sword! Where is your sword?"
"I need to get it."
"You're supposed to have a sword on your person at all times."
"Give me a break, it's my wedding day."
"Well, go get your sword, but be quick about it."
"Frike, you were practically a father to me. How can you do this?"
"Well, I'm playing a pretty traditional role," Frike said. "The crippled servant who is slightly sympathetic but still has a fatal bias toward evil. Nothing personal, but we must fight it out with swords."
"Well, rats," Charming said. "Wait right here. I'll be back with my sword."
"I'll be waiting," Frike said, and went over to sample the buffet.
When Prince Charming had been gone almost half an hour, Scarlet went to look for him. She found him in what remained of the stables. He had just finished saddling up the swiftest goat he could find.
Scarlet said, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I don't know how to tell you this," Charming said, "but I think I've got to get out of here."
"Coward!" Scarlet said.
"Bitch," Charming said.
"But our new life together has hardly begun!"
"What matter a new life if I'm too dead to enjoy it?"
"Maybe you could defeat him!"
"I don't think so," Charming said. "Frankly, though, I'm not happy about running out like this. I sure need the advice of some wise spirit."
There was a flash of light. A voice said, "I thought you'd never ask." It was Hermes Trismegistus.
Chapter 3
Never had the demigod looked handsomer. His dark cloak, draped artfully over his massive white marble body, looked miraculously beautiful. Every strand of his hyacinthine hair was in place. A faint Oriental tilt to his eyes gave him a look of unutterable beauty and wisdom. The blankness of his eyes, which, in the classic statuary mode, were without pupils, made him seem preternaturally wise. Even his sandals gave off an air of sapience.
"O Hermes," Charming said, "what Azzie i
s doing isn't fair, sending out Frike to take my head, and all because I haven't fallen in with his scheme of having Princess Scarlet murder me."
"It does seem unfair," Hermes said. "But who ever said demons were otherwise?"
"Has he even the right by divine law to send his servant to take my head?"
"Let me see," Hermes said. He removed from a fold of his cloak a thick scroll. He threw it into the air and it unwound, soaring upward with paper spilling down.
Hermes snapped his fingers and a small spotted owl appeared.
"Find me the relevant passage for laws regulating the actions of demons' assistants," Hermes said.
"You got it," said the owl, and fluttered up into the air, darting close to the endlessly long page of the scroll. Finally it darted in on a section, pinched the parchment in its beak, and brought it back to Hermes.
Hermes read the entry and shook his head sorrowfully. "As I feared. He can do anything he wants with you via a servant, since he created you. Assembled, actually, but it comes to much the same thing."
"But why should that give him power of life and death over me?"
"That's how it goes in the creation game. But you are not without recourse."
"What can I do?"
"Kill Frike."
"You think I might be able to? He looks awfully strong to me."
"Yes, but you're a hero. Maybe if you had a good sword ..."
"I had Excalibur but we parted ways. It was trying to kill me."
"You must get it back. It will take a magic sword to kill a supernaturally augmented demon's assistant."
"I think I ought to mention, I'm very scared," Charming said.
"That's because you were given a coward's heart. Don't worry about it, though. Everyone's scared."
"Everyone?"
"Those who are too courageous perish too quickly to leave a record. Cowardice is nothing to be ashamed of, Prince Charming. It is like measles - most people get it at least once in their lives. Just ignore it and it'll go away. Carry on without it. The metaphor is unclear, but your path of duty is not. Get out of here, Charming, and find the sword. Tell your coward's heart to stop fluttering and get on with destroying this knave of a Frike and claiming your Princess for forever after. She's very pretty, by the way."
"Yes," Charming said, "isn't she? But I'm afraid she's sulky."
"The good ones always are," Hermes said. "Come on, let's go get that sword!"
Chapter 4
There wasn't much time for Charming and Hermes to find Excalibur. Hermes took them first to the Bureau of Lost Swords. They had the sympathetic vibration print of every sword ever forged, all kept in a central registration point on the planet Oaqsis IV. Hermes found a trace of Excalibur and followed it back to Earth, carrying Prince Charming along with him.
On Earth again, Prince Charming soon found himself in a tavern. Guided by Hermes, he went to the kitchen. There he beheld a sword, all nicked and dented, but unmistakably of fine temper, being used by a scullion to decapitate radishes and turnips, eviscerate cabbages, decorify carrots, and all the rest of the homely life of domestic steel. Yet despite this, the sword recognized Charming as soon as he came in.
"Master, here I am!" it said in a breaking voice. "Your own forsaken sword!"
"What has happened to you?" Charming said. "Did you really have to cut vegetables?"
"It's not my fault," the sword said. "How can I help the base purposes men put me to? Take me back into your employ, master, and I'll show thee good service."
"Come on then," Charming said.
The sword leaped to his hand. One of the tavern drudges looked ready to put up a quarrel, but a single glance, nay, a bare glancelet at the yard of steel gleaming in Prince Charming's hands put a stop to that. And so it was that Charming turned, sword in hand, and through the magical attentions of Hermes was able to return to the Enchanted Castle with Excalibur.
Seeing him, Frike put down the cracker spread with chopped chicken liver at which he had been nibbling whilst awaiting Prince Charming's return, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and said, "Are you ready?"
"Aye, ready!"
"Then here we go!"
The swords clashed. The fight was on.
Chapter 5
Charming's blade, Excalibur, grunted with the weight of Frike's blow, bent like a willow, and then snapped back. Excalibur beat down hard on Frike's iron casque, forcing him backward. Frike took two steps to recover balance, then stomped forward again, his sword swinging in blinding patterns of advance and foil. Excalibur met the other's thrusts and parries with equal ardor and undaunted skill. The guests, who had gathered on the staircase and on the small interior balcony above to watch the fight, gasped and held their breaths.
Then Frike smiled, for he knew the fatal flaw in Excalibur. It was a demented demon-sword, and upon the signal, it responded to a hellish master. Fitting that description fully, Frike waited until their swords were crossed once again. Then he cried, "Come to thy master, O mighty Excalibur! Come to me!"
"Not likely!" snarled Excalibur, slashing off Frike's right arm.
"I command you!" shouted Frike, his high berserk temper feeling no pain as he whirled a battle-ax around his head with his good, or rather remaining, hand, the left, or sinister one.
"But you didn't say it in Runic," Excalibur replied, lopping off Frike's other arm in response to Prince Charming's valiant swing.
"Spare me this fuscating of quiddities!" Frike shouted, now attacking with both feet, which were armed with scythes of a wicked temper. "By the arts of the ancient wicked ones, I bespeak thee, come now to me and at once and without further palaverations!"
"Why," Excalibur said, "if you so desire, then so be it!" And the great shining sword sprang from Charming's grasp, described a graceful arabesque in the air, and came to Frike point first, not stopping until it had pierced the man's armor and run him through his deepest extent.
"Alack, I am finished," Frike said.
Charming turned to the Princess. His eyes were ablaze. It was in his mind to end all ambiguity now.
"Give me one final kiss!" Charming said. "And then stab away to your heart's content, if this desire still be present, for no death is as dear as that bestowed by the beloved at the moment which should, if things had worked out otherwise, be that of highest bliss."
"I'll give thee kiss, and kiss for kiss, and then more kisses to repay those kisses betides!" Scarlet said. "Speak not of death. That was the old way. Now shall we go on forever in our pleasures!"
And so it was.
Chapter 6
Moondrench was a young spirit who had not had his sexual awakening. Although he was called "he," he was in fact a neutral in matters of sexuality. Agrippa was an older spirit who had been around for a very long time and was more than a little jaded. He did like fresh young spirits, however, and he may have had something of a sporting nature in mind when he invited Moondrench. He liked the naive responses of young spirits. They gave him something to be superior to.
They arrived at the north entrance to Limbo at the time appointed for the Millennial Awards Dinner. Together they mounted the cloud-staircases that led to the building where the banquet was to be held. Clouds are not easy to walk on, even if you are a demon. In no time at all, Moondrench began complaining.
"I'm sick of walking," he said. "Let's fly."
"It's not allowed," Agrippa said.
"But we always fly! Remember that flying game you taught me?"
"Please, let's not speak of that here. It is said that we walk today in honor of our victim's ancestor, Adam."
"Adam, shmadam," Moondrench said. "I just don't want to get my new outfit sweaty."
"Stop complaining, " Agrippa said.
Ahead lay a great cloud-pasture. It seemed to expand like an unbounded metaphor. It had Corinthian columns which added to its classical look.
They walked to the entrance. A demon in a powdered wig and beige silk stockings checked Agrippa's invitation, ho
lding it up to the light to make sure it had the watermark. The Millennial Awards was such an important event that many spiritual beings tried to lie their way in, or get by with forged credentials. Luckily for Agrippa, his excellent connections with the High Demon Council, for whom he threw parties and literary soirees, had assured him and his friend of places at the banquet.
Agrippa, many centuries old, had the leathery skin and deep wrinkles of a rottweiler.
The attendant verified his invitation and let them continue inside.
Within the banqueting hall they came to a table so long that it disappeared from sight at either end. Luckily, Agrippa and Moondrench's seats were near the middle. They found little name tags in the form of paper pennants stuck into grapefruits.
Taking their places, they nodded to their neighbors on either side. The speeches from the high table had already begun. Agrippa found himself sitting next to a Nubian angel with an ebony halo. Moondrench looked around, still considerably in awe, and saw food being passed.
"Can I eat now?" he asked Agrippa in a loud whisper.
"Yes, but don't make a pig of yourself."
Moondrench snarled at him and speared a turkeydogleg from a platter as it went by. He followed it up with a glass of mescal ichor. This had the embryonic dragon at the bottom of the glass, identifying it as genuine. He munched and looked around. He stared at the tall blond creature with big blue eyes who sat across the table from him. "Hot damn," he remarked to Agrippa. "That's what I call some kind of sexy."
"Forget it," Agrippa said. "That's an angel and he's not for the likes of you."
It was a fact that demons were always lusting after angels, who, it is said, were flattered by the attention. This occasion of the Awards Dinner was one of the few times they were able to mingle freely with each other.
Waiters hurried back and forth with trays of food and drink. Many of them wore the ethnic masks which were so popular in celestial circles. Their masks matched the type of food they were serving. Italian angels served tiny pizzas, Vietnamese angels had eggrolls and Pho soup, and Arab spirits bore silver trays with kebabs piled high on them.
Zelazny, Roger - (With Robert Sheckley) Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming (v1.0) Page 21
