Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming Part 4

It was not certain whether the chain of command stopped at Ananke or went on to even higher levels.

Ananke was as far as demoniac theorists had reached. The theorists had difficulty communicating with Ananke because it was so mysterious, so difficult to pin down, so unbodied, and so uncommunicative that it was impossible to be sure of any-thing about it except that it seemed to exist. Ananke judged the contests between Good and Evil which were held every thousand years. Its decisions were reached mysteriously. An-anke was a law unto itself, but it was a law that showed only glimpses of itself, and never stood still for explication.

But why should demons have to be ruled? In theory, demons were autonomous creatures who followed their impulses, i.e., to do evil. But there seemed to be a built-in perversity in the makeup of intelligent creatures, whether natural or superna-tural, that made them go against the grain, against what was best for them, against all the things they should believe. Thus the demons needed the first necessity of government, a bureau of Conformity, and this cheered them no end because their top theorists believed that the enforcing of the standards of evil was worse, evilwise, than the doing of evil itself. It was difficult to be sure of this, but it seemed reasonable.

Azzie was acting in a nonconformist manner as he burst past the guards, who stared at him slack-jawed, taken aback because this was definitely undemonic behavior. Demons are usually toadies to those above them. But they hesitated to chase after and stop him because the fox-headed young demon had seemed more than a little crazed, and if that were so, he might be divinely inspired, that is, inspired by Satan himself, in whose invisible service all of the powers of evil toiled as an act of faith.

Azzie ran through the corridors of the Ministry, well aware why the guardian demons had not tried to stop him. That was all very well, buthe knew he was not inspired, and he also knew that the high council would not be amused by any of this. It occurred to him that he had made a very big mistake, had taken more upon himself than he could deal with. But he thrust that thought from his mind, his determination stiffening. Now that he had begun, he would have to continue.

He raced up one side of an impressive double stairway, turned to his left, almost overturning an urn filled with freshly picked spring weeds, and continued down the corridor, making left turns whenever the choice presented itself, racing past sub-ordinate demons with their hands full of papers, until he came to a high bronze door. He knew this had to be the place. He pushed open the door and entered.

When Azzie burst in, the meeting of the Powers of Evil was in full session. It was not a happy meeting.

Discontent was man-ifest on the b.e.s.t.i.a.l faces of the major demons. Mouths were turned down, eyes red and swollen.

"What is this?" Belial said, standing up on his goat feet to better peer at Azzie, who was now bowing low.

Azzie, tongue-tied, could only stammer and stare.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Azazel said, hunching his mighty shoulders and ruffling his dark wings. "It's a demon of the common sort who has presumed to break in upon us. I don't know what the young are coming to these days. It wasn't like this in my time. Young demons were respectful then, and de-sirous of pleasing their elders. Now they barge around in gangs, sewer gangs I have heard them called, and they don't care whom they offend with their noisy behavior. Not satisfied with this, they even elect one of their number to break into our inner sanctorum and taunt us."

Belial, an old rival of Azazel's, pounded with his hoof on the table and said, in mincing words, "The right honorable member is sufficiently talented to expand a single demonic in-trusion into an onslaught by a sewer warfare gang. I see no gang: only a single rather foolish-looking demon. I would also point out that sanctum is more correct thansanctorum in this case, which the honorable member would know if he had ever mastered the dear old mother tongue, Latin."

Azazel's eyes smoldered, little wisps of blue smoke came out of his snout, corrosive acid dripped from his nose and ate holes in the ironwood table. "I'll not be mocked," he said, "by a jumped-up nature spirit who has beenmade a demon rather than born one and who, because of his ambiguous ancestry, cannot be relied upon to understand the true nature of evil."

Other members clamored to be heard, because demons loved to argue about who really understood evil, who was most evil, and by extension, who was insufficiently bad. Azzie, how-ever, had now regained his poise. He realized that the attention of the Lord Demons would soon be turned to him. So he made haste to speak in his own defense.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am sorry to be the cause of this dispute. I would not have broken in on you if I had not some-thing urgent to say."

"Yes," Belial said. "Whyhave you come? And I notice that you haven't brought any presents, as is customary. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I come without presents," Azzie said, "that is true. It was my haste, and I beg apology. But I do bear something more important."

He paused. It was that dramatic demon sense working in him that made him stop at that moment rather than blurt on.

The Demon Lords also knew a thing or two about drama.

They stared at him in accusing silence. After what seemed like forever, Belphegor, who was anxious to adjourn this committee and get a little sleep, said, "All right, d.a.m.n you, what do you bear that is more important than presents?"

In a low, husky voice, Azzie said, "What I bear, gentlemen, is that most precious of things: an idea."

Chapter 3.

Azzie's words. .h.i.t upon a common concern among the Lord Demons, namely, their need for an idea for the coming Light versus Dark festivities, a drama that would be their entry into the contest of Good versus Evil, and whose outcome would demonstrate, homiletically, as it were, the superiority of Evil, thus giving them the right to dominate man's destiny for the next thousand years.

"What is this idea?" Belial asked.

Azzie bowed low and began to tell them the story of Prince Charming.

Fairy tales have great weight and resonance for demons as well as for humans. All of the Demon Lords knew the Prince Charming story-of how a youth came forth to save a princess who had been enchanted by a spell and cast into a perpetual sleep. This prince was Prince Charming, who, aided by his pure heart and loyal spirit, fought his way through the various dan-gers that beset the Princess, conquered them all, won through the wall of thorns to her castle, climbed to the top of the moun-tain of gla.s.s upon which her palace had been set, and kissed her. Whereupon she awoke, and they married and lived happily ever after.

Azzie proposed to stage this pretty story, but with char-acters of his own devising.

"Gentlemen, give me a grant so that I can draw freely upon Supply- and I will create a Prince and a Princess who will act out the Prince Charming-Sleeping Beauty story and turn this insipid tale on its ear.

My couple will demonstrate a different ending. Their conclusion to the tale, arrived at by their own free will, with only a minimum of behind-the-scenes tampering on my part, will show conclusively, to the enjoyment of our friends and the confusion of our enemies, that given a free hand, evil must inevitably win in the contests of the human spirit."

"Not a bad idea," Azazel said. "But what makes you think that your actors, given free will, will act the way you want them to?"

"That can be ensured," Azzie said, "by careful selection of the body parts, and appropriate education once they are selected and animated into persons."

"Careful selection?" Phlegethon asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"Here is the very first item," Azzie said, "around which I intend to build my Prince Charming."

He removed from his canvas bag the pair of legs he had won at the demons' poker game. The Lord Demons leaned forward to regard them. By the combined weight of their gaze a cloud of body memory issued forth, and each demon could see for himself the history of this pair of legs, and how their owner had come to lose them.

"A devilish cowardly pair of legs indeed," Belial said.

"True, my lord," Azzie said. "A prince with these legs would never stay the course of a difficult trial. The legs them-selves would almost haul him back to shameful safety!"

"Is that the destined outcome of your planned charade?" Belial asked.

"No, it is not, lord," Azzie said. "I crave your indulgence not to force me to reveal the conclusion of my scheme too soon, for much of the pleasure in its making lies in following a creative intuition without knowing too firmly in advance its outcome."

There may have been difficulties about Azzie's plan, but the time to select an entry was at hand, and nothing better had come along. The a.s.sembled Lord Demons nodded. "I think we have something here,"

Belial said. "What do you think, my colleagues?"

The others humphed and griffed but finally gave their a.s.sent.

"Go forth, then," Belial said to Azzie, "and do what you have promised. You are our entry, our chosen one. Go, and produce horror and evil in our name."

"Thank you," Azzie said, genuinely moved. "But I'll need money to do this. Body parts such as I want don't come cheap. And there is the matter of the other things I'll need-two castles, one for each protagonist, and a mansion for myself from which to operate. Also the wages of a servant, and quite a few other things."

The lords issued him a black credit card with his name embossed in fiery letters above an inverted pentagram, insert-able anyplace dark and sinister. "With this," Belial said, "you will have instant and unlimited credit with Supply. You can call them up anytime and anywhere, so long as you find some-place foul in which to insert the card. But that should be no difficulty, the world being what it is. It is also good for control of meteorological phenomena."

"But you must supply your own hero and heroine," Azazel told him. "And, of course, the directing of the action is all your responsibility."

"Accepted," Azzie said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Chapter 4.

If someone had been watching, from a high window in the steeply pitched narrow old house above the main square in the village of Hagenbeck, he might have seen a man arriving in the public coach from Troyes. This man was tall and attractive. He was neither young nor old. His face was not displeasing, and had about it a sternness that marked its owner as a person of some consequence. He wore clothing of good English cloth, and his shoes had fine bra.s.s buckles. He got off at Hagenbeck, went directly into the inn, and asked for rooms. When the owner, Herr Gluck, wondered about the new arrival's ability to pay, Azzie (for such it was) produced a purse in which rested innumerable pieces of Spanish gold cast in doubloons.

"Very fine, indeed, sir," the innkeeper said, cringing to show his appreciation. "We have our finest apartment open. Usually it is occupied, but everyone is gone to the great fair in Champagne."

"Then it is mine," said Azzie.

It was very fine, the main room having a large bower window. There was even a little bathroom in which to clean up, not that demons make much use of such things.

At first Azzie lay down on the big bed with its feather down coverlet and its fine plump pillows. It seemed to him that his career was finally beginning. He was amazed at how quickly he had moved, from a lowly servitor in North Discomfort 405 to the impresario of a fine new game for the Millennial cele-brations. He lay on the bed and pondered his good fortune for a time, then bestirred himself, anxious to get his scheme started.

The first thing he needed was a servitor. He decided to consult the landlord about this requirement.

"Of course you must have a servitor," the fat landlord said. "I was amazed that such a fine gentleman as yourself didn't come equipped with servants and a considerable traveling chest. Since you have money, that shouldn't be hard to put to rights."

"I need a special sort of servant," Azzie said. "One who may be called upon to do deeds of a most unusual nature."

"Might I inquire," the landlord asked, "just what nature your excellency is speaking about?"

Azzie looked keenly at the landlord. He was fat and com-placent looking, but there was a sinister cast to his features. This man was no stranger to evil deeds. He was a man who would stop at nothing, and who knew a sort of glee at the thought of evil deeds, finding in them the excitement his normal life lacked.

"Landlord," Azzie said, "the deeds I will require may not be entirely within the ken of the king's law."

"Yes, sir," the landlord said.

"I have prepared here," Azzie said, "a little list of the requirements I need in a servitor. I wish you could tack this up somewhere. ..."

He handed a sheet of parchment to the landlord. The landlord took it, moved it back and forth to get into reading range.

It read: "Servitor needed, a man not squeamish, accus-tomed to blood and gore, honest and reliable, up for anything."

He read it several times, then said, "A man like this might be found, if not in our village of Hagenbeck, then in nearby Augsburg. But I shall be pleased to nail this on our front wall, along with the listings for hay and oats, and we shall see what comes of it."

"Do that," Azzie said. "And send me up a flagon of your best wine, in case the wait becomes onerous."

The landlord louted low and took his departure. Within minutes he sent up the servant girl, a poor creature with de-formed face and halting gait, carrying not only the flagon of wine, but also some small cakes which the cook had baked just that day.Azzie rewarded her with a silver penny, for which she was pathetically grateful. He then sat himself down and feasted. Demons do not really require food, of course, but when they take human form they also take on human desires. This appet.i.te for food was one of them.

Azzie dined well, and af-terward sent for the blackbird pie he could smell baking in the inn's well-founded kitchen.

It was not long before the first applicant knocked at his door. He was a tall young man, thin as a weed, and with wild light blond hair that floated around his head in a sort of nimbus. His clothing was presentable, although much patched. He held himself well, and bowed low when Azzieopened the chamber door.

"Sire," the stranger said, "I read your notice belowstairs, and I have come quickly to present myself to you. I am Augustus Hye, and I am a poet by trade."

"Indeed?" said Azzie. "This is a somewhat unusual post for a poet."

"Not at all, sire," Hye said. "Poets must perforce deal with the most extreme of human emotions. Blood and gore would suit me fine, since they would prove good subjects for my poems, in which I will consider the vanity of life and the inevitability of death."

Azzie was not entirely satisfied with what he heard. The poet didn't seem really suited for the task. But Azzie decided to give him a trial.

"Do you know the local graveyards?" Azzieasked.

"Of course, my lord. Graveyards are a favorite place for poets who crave contemplation to bring to their minds great and dolorous deeds."

"Then hie you to such a place this evening, when the moon is down, and bring me a nicely aged human skull, with or without hair, it makes no difference. And if you can bring me some ladies' fingers, all the better."

"Ladies' fingers, sire? You are referring to the confection of that name?"

"Not at all," said Azzie. "I am referring to the actual and literal objects."

Hye looked uncomfortable. "Such items are hard to come by."

"I know that," Azzie said. "If they were easy, I would go forth and get them myself. Now go and see what you can do."

Hye left, not happily. Already his hopes were fading. Like all poets he was more used to talking about blood and gore than actually getting his hands into it. But still, he decided to attempt the task because Lord Azzie, as he called himself, was evidently a wealthy man and might be counted upon to give out much largess.

Azzie's next caller was an old woman. She was tall and lean, dressed entirely in black. She had small eyes and a long nose; her lips were thin and bloodless.

"I know you advertised for a man," she said, after dropping a deep curtsy, "but I hoped that you might not be adamant in that choice. I will make a wonderful servitor for you, Lord Azzie, and you can enjoy my favors into the bargain."

Azzie shuddered. This old beldame really fancied herself if she thought that any lord, or any demon masquerading as a lord, would fancy her for anything more than pulling off his boots after a hard day's riding. Nevertheless, he decided he would be fair about it.

He repeated the instructions he had given the poet Hye. The aged beldame, whose name was Agatha, also seemed taken aback. She was one of those who believed that appearance was the better part of evil. For many years she had gotten by in Hagenbeck solely by her appearance, and the reputation it had given her for evil deeds. She had thought this job would be just the right thing for her, since she already looked the part of one who would stop at no evil deed and would take delight in blood and gore. But, despite her appearance, she was one who had difficulty even in cutting off a chicken's head.

Nevertheless, she said she would do her best and promised to return at midnight with her spoils.

That was the end of the applicants for that day. Azzie was not well satisfied. The people in these parts seemed to have little appet.i.te for his sort of work. But he would see. Having a servant was absolutely necessary.

Chapter 5.

That afternoon, Azzie went to nearby Augsburg and spent the rest of the day strolling about observing its ancient churches. Demons are very interested in churches, which, though Powers of Good reside in them, can as often as not be twisted to serve evil. In the early evening he returned to the Inn of the Hanged Man in Hagenbeck, but learned from the landlord that no other persons had applied for the post he had offered.

He took out the black credit card and looked it over care-fully. It was a beautiful thing, and he had the desire to call up something that would amuse him, like dancing girls. But he decided against it. First things first. He needed a good human servitor. After that, both the work and the fun would begin.