Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

"At last!" Azzie said, cracking the shell. The spell whooshed silently out and the room warmed up ten degrees almost at once.

"Now for the animating procedure," Azzie said after some thawing had occurred. "Quick, Frike, the ichor."

The servant hunched over the recumbent Princess and splashed ichor on her face.

"Now the animating spell," Azzie said, and recited it.

The composite creature whom they called Princess Scarlet lay still as death and as pale. Then a faint tremor passed over her cheek. Her finely shaped lips moved and parted, and her little tongue came out to taste the ichor. Then her delicate nose widened, her body stirred, relaxed again.

"Quick," Azzie said. "Put in the eyes!"

The eyes fit into place easily. Another spell was necessary now, a vision-start-up spell, quite rare, but Supply had managed to find one. As Azzie chanted Princess Scarlet's eyelids flittered, fluttered, then lifted. Her new eyes, of deepest sapphire, gazed out at the world. Her face took on expression, animation. She looked around and gave a soft moan.

"Who are you all?" Scarlet said. Her voice was loud and snappish, and conveyed in addition a sense of peevishness. Azzie didn't like the sound of that. But luckily he didn't have to love her. That was Charming's task.

The Princess, a newly created being, had no memory. Now it was necessary to explain matters to her.

"Who are you?" Scarlet exclaimed again.

"Your uncle Azzie, of course," Azzie said. "You remember me, surely?"

"Oh, sure," Scarlet said, though of course she didn't. Death had wiped her mind of its memories, the good and the bad alike, and returned her to the world a tabula rasa.

"What's going on, Uncle Azzie? Where's Mummy?"

That had been an expected question. All living creatures assume they had a mother and never take it into their heads that someone might have sewn them together out of a collection of parts.

"Mummy and Daddy," Azzie said, "which is to say, Their Royal Highnesses, are under an enchantment."

"Did you say 'Royal Highnesses'?"

"Yes, my dear. You, of course, are a princess. Princess

Scarlet. You want to release your parents from their spell, don't you?"

"What? Oh, sure," Princess Scarlet said. "So I'm a prin­cess!"

"They can be released," Azzie said, "only after you have been rescued from your own enchantment."

"I'm under an enchantment?"

"That is correct, my dear."

"Well-take it away, then!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Azzie said. "I'm not the right person."

"Oh. What sort of a spell am I under?"

"You are under a sleeping spell. You spend twenty-some hours a day either sleeping or napping. They call you the Nap­ping Princess. Only one man can break the spell. That is Prince Charming."

"Prince Charming? Who's that?"

"Nobody you've met before, my dear. Prince Charming is a fine, handsome young man of noble family who has just re­cently heard of your plight. He is on his way here to awaken you with a kiss and take you away to a life of bliss."

Scarlet considered. "It sounds good. But are you sure I'm not dreaming this?"

"This is not a dream, except in the sense that all experience, waking or sleeping, living or dead, is possibly a dream. But leaving metaphysics aside, this is real and you have been en­chanted into sleeping. Believe me, trust me on this. Obviously you aren't asleep at the moment, because I need to talk to you and advise you on a few things."

"Maybe the spell isn't working," Scarlet said.

"I'm afraid it is," Azzie said, surreptitiously taking out the sleep spell from his pouch and pressing the little pin that ac­tivated it.

Scarlet yawned. "You're right, I am sleepy. But I haven't even had di

"We'll have it ready for you when you awaken," Azzie said.

The Princess' eyes closed and soon she was in a sound sleep. Azzie, under the watchful eye of Ylith, carried her to her bedroom and tucked her in.

Over the next few days it became apparent that Princess Scarlet was going to be difficult. She didn't want to listen to Azzie. Not even Ylith, with her calm and intelligent ways, could get through to the girl, not even in the guise of her aunt. That Scarlet was beautiful, there was no doubt. Not least of her charms was the fact that her long dancer's legs, olive brown and shapely beyond measure, carried an alabaster-white body topped with a blond head. Her dark legs gave Princess Scarlet the look of wearing silk stockings. This did nothing to harm her beauty.

But those long legs were a problem in themselves, and seemed to carry their own karma. The Princess was caught up with a dancing mania. Azzie had to try a number of spells before he could quench this.

But even under the napping spell, Princess Scarlet walked in her sleep, her long legs guiding her to the great downstairs ballroom, where she danced to flamenco music heard only by herself. Azzie had to take into account the Princess' peregri­nations during sleep.

"Ylith," he asked, "will you stay and look after her? I'm afraid she's a bit unstable. She might fall and do herself harm. But she has spirit, and I'm sure she'll do what we expect of her."

"I suppose so," Ylith said. "By the way, I asked Santa Claus to give Brigitte a fancy dollhouse for Christmas."

"Oh. Thanks."

"I just told you in case you had forgotten you'd promised her one."

"I hadn't forgotten," Azzie said, though he had. "But thanks anyhow. Take good care of her, okay?"

"I'm doing this for you, Azzie," Ylith said, in a melting voice.

"And I really appreciate it," Azzie said, in a voice which expressed the opposite. "Gotta go get Charming up and moving. Catch you later, okay?"

Ylith shook her head as her demon lover departed in a flash of showy fireworks. Why had she ever fallen in love with a demon? And if a demon, why this particular demon? She didn't know. The ways of fate were inscrutable, to say the least.

Chapter 3

I just hope we don't have any trouble with this one," Azzie said. "You got those dragon eyes ready, Frike?"

"Yes, master," Frike said. He opened the waterproof deer­skin bag in which the dragon's eyes soaked in a solution of ichor, salt water, and vinegar. He lifted out the eyes, first remembering to wipe his hands on his smock, for hygiene in those days, while still rudimentary, seemed important in this situation.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Azzie said, inserting them into Charming's eye sockets and applying ichor around the edges.

And indeed they were handsome eyes - colored like smoky topaz, with a deep glitter to them.

"They worry me, these eyes," Frike said. "I believe that dragon's eyes see through falsehood."

"Just what a hero needs."

"But won't he see through this falsehood?" Frike asked, indicating, with a sweep of his arm, Azzie, the mansion, and himself.

"No, my poor Frike," Azzie said. "Dragon's eyes ca

"Ah!" said Frike. "He stirs!"

Azziehad already taken the precaution of assuming his kindly-uncle disguise. "There, there, lad," he said, smoothing back the youth's golden hair.

"Where am I?" Charming asked.

"You might better ask who you are," Azzie said. "And then you should want to know who I am. Where you are comes a distant third on the list of vital questions."

"Well, then... Who am I?"

"You are a noble prince whose original name has been lost but who is referred to by everyone as 'Prince Charming.' "