Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

"I have no idea," Ylith said. "It depends on who did the conjuration, the spell used, and the nature of the obligation that Azzie had incurred."

"But will he be back soon?"

Ylith shrugged. "He could be back in an instant. Or he could be gone for days, months, years, even forever. It is dif­ficult to unravel the truth of these matters a posteriori."

"I'd be glad to sacrifice my posterior if it would bring him back!" cried Frike. He wrung his hands in grief and uncertainty, and then a thought crossed the shadowy places of his mind and he called out afresh, "Oh, no!"

"What is it?" Ylith asked.

"The bodies!"

"What about them?"

"They run peril of decaying, lady! For only this morning we used up our last bit of ice, and we're very low on ichor. I reminded the master of this as soon as he arose, and he said, 'Never fear, Frike, I'll call Supply and get some more as soon as I've had my nap.' "

"Nap? But you said he had just arisen."

"He liked a nap soon upon awakening, mistress."

"Now that you mention it, I remember it well," Ylith said.

She went to the part of the laboratory where the bodies slept in their coffin-shaped open boxes, side by side, awaiting resuscitation. The ice of the high Alps was gone. In the bottom of each box was no more than a little pool of ichor.

"Your master has been very slack," Ylith said.

"He had not expected to be conjured, mistress," Frike said.

"I suppose not. Well, first things first. We must refrigerate these bodies, Frike."

"Beg pardon, mistress?"

"We must find a means of lowering their temperature."

"Can you call up glacial ice, mistress?"

"Not I," said Ylith. "Witches' conjurations do not lean to that sort of thing. Fetching things is demons' work. But our demon has been taken from us. This is a tricky situation." She crossed to the couch and sat down. "Stop whimpering, Frike, and let me think."

She returned to the boxes, bent over, and touched the bodies. They were still perceptibly cold, but Ylith could tell that they were warmer than they ought to be. Another hour or two and Azzie's prize specimens would be rotten meat, probably filled with blowflies. And then it wouldn't matter if he came back or not. The contest would be over.

"I'm going to do something about those bodies, Frike," she said. "I'm going to talk to some people. You had better not watch me depart. This is women's magic, not for men's eyes."

"I'll be in the den when you need me," Frike said, slinking away. Ylith turned to her work.

Chapter 8

Ylith selected a freshly charged broomstick and, first making sure her protective amulets were in place, flew out of the mansion window and up, straight up, into the empyrean blue of the highest atmosphere. As she went she murmured a protective spell to herself, for she was unhappy over what she was about to do. Still, to keep those bodies cold, her first thought had been to ask assistance of the Harpies.

Harpies and witches were friendly toward one another. The Harpies were female demons inducted into the Powers of Darkness after the collapse of classical mythology. Not only did they do evil, but their very presence was disturbing. Their breath was foul, and their table ma

She flew hard and fast, soon passing through the crack that separates the realms of the human from that of the inhuman and superhuman.

Immediately she found herself in a vast cloudland of snowy hills and mountains. And there were rivers, too, and little tem­ples along the riverbanks, all made of clouds. She flew on and, dipping low over this land, saw the manticore and the chimaera and, in a little valley of its own, Behemoth snorted and reached for her with a great talon. She eluded the beast easily and flew on, to a region where the clouds were colored blue, and every­thing below was stained with blue and gold, like the borders of a dimly remembered dream. Descending, she saw, very tiny at first, the figures of beautiful women on the banks of a sleepy river, and close to them, a waterfall where they could sport and slide.

Then Ylith directed her flight downward and came to one of the regions where the Harpies and the Sirens lived together. She slowed and came to a stop on the left bank of the river. This was the Styx, the great river that traveled from deepest past to furthest future. There were trees along it of no known variety, for they still awaited their birth on the earth. Beneath these trees were maidens, lolling at their ease on the grassy banks. There were eight of them, Sirens, and several Harpies. The Sirens were famed for luring people, especially sailors, to their doom with their sweet songs. The Harpies were the more advanced stage of Siren, beautiful and golden-haired, with firm, well-shaped breasts, but with table ma

Although Ylith put on a bold front, she was more than a little afraid, as these ancient demons were given to odd per­versions and strange thoughts, and their mood was always un­certain.

But she put on a bold face and said, "Sisters, I bring you greetings from the world of humans."

One of the Sirens stirred herself. She was large, ash blond, and had a sweet little rosebud of a mouth. It was difficult to believe that this was Poldarge, one of the most ominous of the Chthonian women deities.

"What do we care for the world of humans?" Poldarge said. "The banks of this fine river are our home. Here we entertain each other by singing of fine exploits of the past. And, from time to time, a man falls into our hands, having escaped over the side of Charon's boat. Then we get him from the river deities, and we play with him until he goes mad, and then we eat him, each of us tearing off her share."

"I thought," Ylith said, "that you might care for some diversion, as long as it is in good cause. Because, excellent though this riverbank is, you must sometimes miss the world of humans, where fine deeds can be done."

"What do we care about human deeds?" Poldarge asked. "But go on, sister. Tell us what you want."

And Ylith told them about the great Mille

"I am glad you approve," Ylith said. "But there is a prob­lem. Azzie has disappeared, conjured up by someone."

"Now, sister," Poldarge said, "you know we can do nothing about that. We are forbidden to interfere in the affairs of men or demons, except under certain conditions, which are not met here."

"I do not ask you to find Azzie," Ylith said. "I'll do that myself. But it will take time. And meanwhile his actors, those who will play Prince Charming and Princess Scarlet, remain in their coffins unanimated. And since the glacial ice has run out and the ichor is nearly gone, and Azzie not at hand to call up more, they run the risk of decaying in the warmth of Earth's springtime and thus rendering Azzie's grand scheme inoper­able."