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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, accustomed 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 deformed 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 pe
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 appetite 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 I
He took out the black credit card and looked it over carefully. 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.
In the evening he decided to take his di
The people ate and drank and caroused, and Azzie wondered how they could be so light of heart. Did they not know that the Mille
Azziehimself had no need for such vulgar superstitions. He knew that mankind's game was a long way from being played out. There would be contests like this for many thousands of years into the future, as there had been for thousands of years into the past, though the memory of mankind retained only the most confused memories of this.
At last Azzie grew tired and went up to the bedroom. It still lacked a half hour or so of midnight. Azzie didn't believe either Hye or Agatha would return. They seemed not to be made of stern enough stuff. But he decided to show them the courtesy of staying up for them anyhow.
The minutes dragged by, and a hush fell over the village. This was the time Azzie loved best, the minutes approaching midnight, when the complexion of the world changed, when the dusky sanctities of evening had been forgotten, and the saving grace of dawn was still far away. It was in these hours, between midnight and dawn, that evil always felt most at peace with itself, most experimental, most in need of strangeness and sin, most in need of producing the ever-pervading perversions which needed constant renewal, and the doing of which was a delight to the evil soul.