Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming Part 7

Azzie brought out Miranda's gown. "Find this woman," he said. "The one who last wore this. She is dead, by the way."

Babd sniffed at the cloth. "You didn't have to tell us that," he said.

"I forgot the extent of your powers. Go, peerless ones. Find this woman for me!"

When the ravens had flown away, Azzie said to Frike, "Let's make ourselves comfortable. This may take a while, but they will find her."

"I never doubted it," Frike replied.

Azzie and Frike ate more cold meat pie and leeks. They discussed the weather and the possible nature of the heavenly entry in the Millennial contest. The day wore on. The bra.s.sy blue sky of Provence was a huge dome radiating sunlight and heat. They ate more leeks.

After a long while a raven returned, announcing itself as Nemain. It circled twice, then settled upon Azzie's outthrust wrist.

"What did you find?" Azzie asked.

Nemain c.o.c.ked his head, then, in a small voice, replied, "I believe we've located the one you want."

"Where is she?"

The other two ravens fluttered down. One perched on Azzie's head, the other on Frike's shoulder.

Macha, the eldest, said, "Yes, it's definitely the woman you want. The scent is unmistakable."

"I suppose sheis dead?" Azzie asked.

"Of course she's dead," Macha said. "That's the way you wanted her, isn't it? If not, you could always have her killed."

Azzie didn't bother explaining that there were rules against that sort of thing. "Where will I find her?"

"Go a couple of leagues down this road and you'll come to a town. She'll be in the second building on your left."

"Thanks, baleful bird," Azziereplied.

Macha nodded, then rose into the air. The others followed. In a moment they were gone.

Azzie and Frike mounted and headed downroad, south. It was an old Roman road that crossed southern Europe, headed toward the great fortress city of Carca.s.sonne, in better condition than many roads they had taken. They pa.s.sed along it in silence, and after a time they came to a fair-sized village.

Azzie sent Frike on ahead to locate accommodations while he tended to the matter of Miranda's head.

He walked to the house the ravens had indicated. It was the largest in the lane, and dark, with an unpleasant look to its little slit windows and ill-thatched roof.

He knocked at the door. No answer. He tried the latch. It was not secured. He walked into the main room.

It was dark inside, with only a little light showing through cracks in the ceiling. There was a strong smell of wine.

His sense of danger kicked in, a moment too late. He plunged through a hole in the floor and fell into the room below, landing heavily. When he sat up, he found himself inside a bottle.

Chapter 2.

It was a gla.s.s bottle with a wide neck, of a type not seen much in these days, large enough to hold a medium-sized demon like Azzie. The fall had made him dizzy for a mo-ment, and he heard a noise above his head but didn't know what it was until he looked up. Then he saw that the bottle had been stoppered with a wooden plug. Azzie recovered his senses quickly. What was he doing in a bottle, anyhow?

Peering through the green-tinged sides, Azzie saw that he was in a room illuminated by many candles.

There were three rough-looking men standing around a little table, arguing.

Azzie tapped on the gla.s.s to get their attention.

They turned. One of them, the one with the ugliest fea-tures, came forward and spoke to him. Since the bottle was stoppered, no sound came through. Azzie indicated this by pointing to his own ear and shaking his head.

When the loutish fellow understood, he told the others. Once again their argument raged, this time more furiously. Finally, they came to a decision. The first man climbed up a ladder set alongside the bottle and loosened the wooden plug slightly.

"You can hear now," he said, "but if you try anything, we'll push the plug in tight and go away and leave you here forever."

Azzie made no move. He figured he had a decent chance of driving it out before they could hammer it in securely. But he was interested in hearing what they had to say.

"You came for the witch, didn't you?" the man said.

"It might be easier if I knew your names," Azzie said.

"This is Ansel, here is Chor, and I am Hald. We are brothers, and the dead witch Miranda is our sister."

"Indeed," Azzie said. "Where is she?"

"We have her close by. We've preserved her with ice."

"Bought at great expense," his brother Ansel reminded him. "We must get back the cost of the ice. And that's only the beginning."

"You're going too fast," Azzie said. "What makes you think this sister of yours, whom you call a witch, is worth anything at all?"

"The doctor told us."

"What doctor is that?" Azzie asked.

"Old Dr. Parvenu. He is also our local alchemist. After that crazy fellow killed Miranda and we brought her back, our first thought was to consult Dr. Parvenu, who is an expert on these matters. This was after we had killed Phillipe, of course."

"Yes, I know about her seducer, Phillipe," Azzie said. "What did Dr. Parvenu tell you to do with your sister's body after she'd been murdered?"

"He advised on the entire affair-and he told us to keep her head."

"Why?"

"He said that beauty like hers would surely tempt a demon!"

Azzie saw no need to enlighten these fellows as to what he intended to do with Miranda's head. He felt quite at ease. Demons learn early how to cope with the bottle trick, and these fellows didn't seem too clever. ...

"This crazy fellow who killed Miranda-who was he?"

"We heard only that his name was Armand. None of us ever saw him, because he was dead by the time we reached the brothel. After the people found out what he had done to Mi-randa, they were so incensed that they beat him to death and tore his body into rags."

"And now you would sell your own sister's head?"

"Of course! She was a wh.o.r.e! What difference does it make what we do with her head?"

"I guess I could give you a few pieces of gold for her," Azzie said. "Unless her features are all battered and distorted."

"Not in the slightest!" Ansel said. "She looks as good now as she did while she was alive. Better, perhaps, if you like the languid type."

"Before I buy," Azzie said, "I must see her."

"You shall. But from the bottle, of course!"

"Of course,"Azzie said. "Trot her out."

Ansel called to his brothers to bring out Miranda's head. Chor and Hald scuttled to the back of the cellar. Soon they returned, bearing an object. Before presenting it, Ansel wiped it with his shirt, to get off the ice crystals.

Azzie saw that she was quite lovely, even in death. The long, sad lips were slightly parted. Her ash-blond hair clung to her forehead. A drop of water glistened on her cheek. . . .

Azzie knew at once that his instinct had been correct; she was indeed the one he needed.

"So what do you think?" Ansel asked.

"She'll do," Azzie said. "Now let me out of here and we'll discuss the fee."

"How about granting us three wishes first?" Ansel asked.

"No," Azzie said.

"Just that? No?"

"That's right."

"No counteroffer?"

"Not while you have me in this bottle."

"But if we let you out, we won't have anything to threaten you with."

"That's right," Azzie said.

Ansel and his brothers held a whispered conference. Ansel came back. "They told me to tell you that we know an incan-tation that can make life very difficult for you."

"Do you really?" Azzie said.

"Yes, we do. Really."

"Then incant away."

The three brothers began to chant.

"Excuse me, fellows," Azzie said, "but I think you have some of the words a little wrong. You should say fantago, not fandrago. Subtle, but there it is. p.r.o.nunciation is everything in the matter of magic spells."

"Come on," Ansel said. "Grant us a couple of wishes, what's it to you?"

"I know you think demons have all sorts of special powers," Azzie said. "But that doesn't mean we have to use them."

"What if we don't release you? How would you like to spend years in a bottle?"

Azzie smiled. "Have you ever wondered what happens when the demon and the people who have captured him can't reach an agreement on his ransom? The old stories don't tell about that, do they? Be sensible now. Don't you think I have any friends? Sooner or later they'll see I'm missing and come looking for me. When they find me here, your prisoner-well, perhaps you can imagine what they might do."

Ansel thought about it and didn't like what he came up with. "But why should they do anything to us? By the rules of magic, we are allowed to trap demons. We caught you fair and square."

Azzie laughed. It was a horrible sound he had practiced for occasions such as this.

"What do you poor fools know of the rules of magic, or for that matter, of the laws that govern the conduct of creatures supernatural? You'd do better to confine your dealings to human things. Once you get into the supernatural area, you can never tell what might happen."

Ansel was trembling now, and his two brothers looked ready to flee. "Great demon," he said, "I didn't mean to intrude. It's just that Dr. Parvenu said it would be so simple. What do you want us to do now?"

"Unstop the bottle," Azzie said.

Ansel and his brothers tugged out the stopper.Azzie stepped out. He adjusted his height so that he was about one and a half feet taller than Ansel, the tallest of the three.

"Now then, my children," Azzie said. "The first thing to learn about dealing with supernatural creatures is this - despite the folklore to the contrary, they will get the better of you every time. So don't try to trick them or cheat them. Note how you opened the bottle for me when actually I was helpless."

The brothers exchanged looks.

After a moment, Ansel asked, "You mean we actually had you at our mercy?"

"Indeed you did," Azzie replied.

"That you were a helpless prisoner?"

"That is correct."

"Sure fooled us," one of the others observed, nodding slowly.

Another round of glances was exchanged.

Ansel cleared his throat then. "You know," he said, "at your present size, great demon, I don't see any way you could be gotten into that bottle. I daresay your excellency couldn't even put yourself into it now if you wanted to."

"But you'd like to see me try, is that it?"

"Not at all," Ansel said. "We are entirely at your orders. I just wish you would show me that you can do it again."