Roger Zelazny - Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

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 Mi­randa, 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 whore! 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 incan­tation 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. Pronunciation 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."

"If I did," Azzie said, "would you play fair with me and not close the stopper?"

"Yes, sir, that I would."

"Would you swear it?"

"On my immortal soul," Ansel said.

"And the other brothers?"

"We also swear," they said.

"Okay, then," Azzie said. "Watch this." He stepped into the bottle and maneuvered so that he fit entirely inside. As soon as he was all the way in the brothers put in the stopper.

Azzie looked out at them. "Okay, quit horsing around and unplug this bottle!"

The brothers chuckled; Ansel motioned to them. Chor and Hald took up a flagstone from the floor, revealing a stone-lined well. From far below came the sound of water.

"Take note, demon," Ansel said. "We'll push you, bottle and all, into the well, and cover it up, and paint a skull and crossbones on it so people will think it's poisoned. Fat chance your friends will have of finding you then."

"You broke your word," Azzie said.

"Well, what of it? Nothing much you can do about it, is there?"

"All I can do," Azzie said, "is tell you a story."

"Come on, let's get away from here," the two other brothers said. But Ansel said, "No, let's hear him out. Then we can laugh and go away."