Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

"Is that a fact?" the young demon asked, unimpressed.

Azzie showed his black credit card.

"Is what he says true?" the clerk asked the card.

"BELIEVE IT!" the card flashed back.

"All right," the demon said. "What can we do for you, Mister Big Shot?"

Azzie resented the young demon's attitude but decided now was not the time to make an issue of it.

"The first thing I need," Azzie said, "is two castles. I know that's a lot to ask, but I really need them."

"Two castles, huh?" The young demon eyed him unsym­pathetically. "I suppose your whole plan will fail if you don't have them."

"That's exactly right."

"Then resign yourself to failure, buddy, because we have only one castle, and even that isn't a proper castle; it's mostly an outline with a real wall and barbicon, but all the rest is mental construct held together by old magic spells."

"That's ridiculous," Azzie said. "I thought Supply had an unlimited number of castles."

"That was true quite some time ago. But recently the prem­ise has been changed. The possibilities have been narrowed. It means a lot more trouble for everyone, but it keeps things inter­esting. That, at least, is the theory of the Supply-side deviltry."

"I never heard of it," Azzie said. "Do you know what you're talking about?"

"If I did," the clerk said, "would I be in this menial job, telling guys like you they can only have one castle?"

"All right," Azzie said, "I'll take the castle you've got."

The clerk scribbled something on a sheet of parchment. "You'll have to take it as is. We haven't got time to patch it up any further."

"What's the matter with it?"

"I told you about the magic spells that hold the place together. There're not enough of them, so parts of the castle disappear every now and then."

"Which parts?" Azzie asked.

"That depends on the weather," the clerk said. "Since the castle is bound together by dry-weather spells, long periods of rain play hell with its provisional existence."

"Isn't there a plan of some sort showing which parts vanish when?"

"Of course there's a plan," the clerk said. "But it needs updating. You'd be crazy to trust it."

"I want it anyway," Azzie said. He had a lot of respect for scratchings on parchment.

"Where do you want me to put this castle?" the clerk asked.

"Just a minute, this won't work. I really do need two castles. I have two different beings. One of them has to get from his castle to the castle of the woman he loves, or thinks he loves. I really need two castles."

"How about one castle and one very large house?"

"No, it's entirely out of the spirit of the game."

"Make do with one," the clerk suggested. "You can shuttle them around. It's easy enough to change the appearance of a castle. Especially when rooms keep on disappearing."

"I suppose I'll have to," Azzie said. "Or I could use my château for one of them. How soon can you send it?"

"Hey, for you I'll get on it right away," the clerk demon said, in a voice that implied Azzie wouldn't see that castle before Hell froze over. Azzie caught the tone and tapped the black credit card. It flashed: "DO WHAT HE SAYS! NO HORS­ING AROUND!"

"All right," said the clerk. "I was only kidding. Where do you want this castle delivered?"

"Do you know a region of Earth called Transylvania?"

"Don't worry. I'll find it," the clerk said.

"Uh, wouldn't know where I could turn up a good head, would you? Human? Male?"

The clerk just laughed.

And so it was that Azzie left Supply and returned to Earth, where nearly a week had passed. He went to the Château des Artes and was irritated to discover that Frike was nowhere to be found. He went outside and mounted his horse. He was going to ride into Augsburg and seek him out.

Storming into the office of Estel Castelbracht, he asked directly whether he had seen the man. There seemed no need for great subtlety.

"Indeed I did," Castelbracht said. "He was hurrying down the street, and he went into the house of Dr. Albertus over yon. I heard him muttering something about a head - "

"Thank you," Azzie said, passing him money, as was his wont on dealing with anyone in an official capacity, when he could afford it.

Chapter 8

The doctor's house was at the end of the little lane that led to the town wall. The house stood all by itself, a tall, narrow old building with ground floor of stone and upper levels of dressed timber. Azzie marched up the steps and swung the great bronze knocker.

"Who knocks?" came forth a voice from inside.

"One who requests knowledge," Azzie said.

The door was opened. Standing in the doorway was an elderly, white-haired gentleman who wore a fine Roman tunic in spite of this garment having been out of fashion for some hundreds of years. He was tall and stooped, and he walked with the aid of a long cane.

The old gentleman said, "I believe it is Lord Azzie, is it not?"

"That is correct," Azzie said. "I've been told that my ser­vant, Frike, might be found here."

"Ah, of course, Frike," the old gentleman said. "Won't you come this way, sir? By the way, I am Master Albertus."

He led the way into a gloomy interior, past a cluttered parlor, past an unkempt kitchen and scullery, to a cheerful little drawing room in the back.

Frike was standing by the fireplace at the far end of the room. He smiled when Azzie came in.

"Frike!" cried Azzie. "I thought you had deserted me."

"Nay, master," Frike said, "I would not dream of it. What happened was that during your absence, I took myself to the village tavern in search of companionship, and there to quaff the strong red wine that gives this region its ferocious valor. There I met this gentleman, Messer Albertus, who is my old master from the days when I was an apprentice in Salerno."

"Yes," Messer Albertus said, his eyes twinkling, "I know this rogue Frike well enough, Lord Azzie. I was overjoyed to hear of his good luck in getting into your employ. I brought him to my house to give him assistance in the matter he is helping you with."

"What help exactly are you speaking of?" Azzie asked.

"Why, lord, it seems that you require a few first-rate body parts. And I happen to have a particularly choice item in my laboratory."

"Are you a doctor?" Azzie inquired.

Albertus shook his white-tressed head. "I am an alchemist, my lord, and body parts are often useful in my occupation. If you will come this way ..."

Azzie followed the aged gentleman, and was followed in turn by Frike. They went down the hall to a barred door. Albertus unlocked it with a key carried on a thong around his neck, and they followed him down winding flagstone stairs to a well-made alchemist's laboratory in the cellar. There Albertus lit an ancient oil lamp. By its glow, Azzie could see tables covered with alembics and cysters, and on one wall, a chart of chakra locations from India. On the bookcases that lined one side of the room there were mummified bits and pieces of per­sons.

"A pretty place," Azzie commented. "My compliments, doctor! But these specimens are very old. They may have an antiquarian value, but they are of no interest to me."

"These are simply surplus items," Albertus said. "Now, look here and see what I have."

He went to a small vat resting on a side table. From it Albertus lifted a human head severed at the neck. The face was that of a young man, deathly pale, but quite handsome, and this despite the fact that where eyes had been there were now only reddened holes.

"How did he meet his fate?" Azzie asked. "And what happened to his eyes?"

"He had the bad fortune to lose them, my lord."