Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming Part 23

"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 minia-ture 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 b.e.s.t.i.a.l 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 b.e.s.t.i.a.l 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 pa.s.sion 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."

"d.a.m.nation!" Azzie cried. He stamped his foot and sank into the earth up to his waist. He extricated himself with dif-ficulty.

Babriel had wandered out of the house upon Azzie's ar-rival. 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."

NONES.

Fairly Lucky Sword

Chapter 1.

Prince Charming rode alone into the great green forest, beyond the familiar fields and hills, into the terra in-cognita 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 exceed-ingly handsome weapon, with its nicely curling pommel and the ta.s.sels around the grip. This was one of the loveliest swords he'd ever seen. It was considerably smaller than the big broads-words 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 cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s 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 be-longed 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 swoon-ing 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 En-chanted 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.