Roger Zelazny - Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

"Yes?" she said.

"Am I correct in assuming this to be the castle of the Napping Beauty, Princess Scarlet?" he inquired.

"You are," she replied. "But you can't be Prince Charming, can you? It's a little early, and those aren't the right eyes -not that I have anything against big blue ones, mind you."

"Oh, no," he answered. "My name's Babriel. I'm the ob­server for the Powers of Light. I'm a guest of Azzie's and I just thought I'd pop over and check out this end of the operation. Is everything proceeding in good fashion?"

"Why, yes," she said. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you, I will," he replied.

"I'm Azzie's-associate," she said, "in this matter. My name's Ylith. Glad to make your acquaintance."

She offered a hand. He raised it and pressed it to his lips.

"Oh," she remarked, staring at her hand after he released it. "Uh, come this way. I'll take you to see the lady. She's napping now, of course."

"Of course," he replied, seeming to realize suddenly that he was still holding her hand and releasing it quickly, "if it is convenient."

"Certainly, certainly."

She turned and led him across the hall.

"Nice hall," he observed.

"Thanks."

"You and Azzie been together long?"

"Oh, we go way back. But we're not exactly-together- right now. Except on this project, I mean."

"Clever entry you have."

"I suppose so. It's all Azzie's idea. I'm just helping him out, for old times' sake."

"I see. Brotherhood of Evil and all that," he said. "Sister­hood, too, of course," he corrected quickly.

"Sort of. This way," she said, leading him out of the hall and into the sitting room. "There she is. Napping Beauty. Pretty, huh?"

"Lovely," he remarked.

Ylith blushed as she realized he was looking at her. Im­mediately, he suffered a coughing spell.

"May I get you something to drink?" she offered. "A little ichor, perhaps?"

"Please."

"Have a seat. Be comfortable."

She hurried off, returning in a few moments with a pair of drinks.

"Here. Thought I'd join you," she said.

"Thank you."

He sipped it slowly. She seated herself nearby.

"I take it the project goes well," Babriel repeated after a time.

"Oh, Azzie has his problems, I understand," she answered.

"You must be a great help and comfort to him."

"I wouldn't know," she replied. "He's been somewhat un­communicative. "

"I don't understand."

"The last time we talked he was a trifle -cold. It may be he has more problems than I realize, or it may just be -"

"What?"

"That he's just that way - to me."

They sipped their ichor in silence for a time. Then: "It is in the nature of evil to be nasty, I guess," Babriel observed. "Even to its friends and allies."

Ylith looked away.

"He wasn't always like that, to me."

"Oh."

"Your side is nicer about these things, I suppose."

"I'd like to think so."

"But then you have to be... . The nature of things."

"I suppose. But I like to think that we do it because we really want to. It just makes us feel good."

"Hmm." She turned toward Princess Scarlet. "Look at her," she said. "Poor thing has no notion that she's only a counter in a game."

"But she wouldn't exist, save for that."

"Still, it might be better than being used."

"An interesting theological point."

"Theological, hell! Excuse me. But people aren't things, to be manipulated that way."

"No, they have free will. So she's still her own person. That's what makes this whole thing interesting."

"Free? Even when the choices are artificially narrowed?"

"That's another interesting theological point-that is, yes, I suppose it isn't very nice. Still, what's to be done? She really is something of a game piece."

"I guess so. I can't help feeling a bit sorry for her, though."

"Oh, I do, too. We're big on sympathy."

"Is that all? I mean, it doesn't help her much."

"But we're not allowed to help in this. Though now you mention it, I suppose I could recommend her for some grace."

"Wouldn't that be cheating, helping her?"

"Not really. Grace sort of helps without helping, if you know what I mean. It kind of helps you to help yourself. I can't see that as cheating. Yes, maybe I should. ..."

Another sip.

"Have you always been that way?" she asked.

"What way?"

"Kind."

"I suppose so."

"How refreshing. It makes it easier having you as the observer."

"Have you always been a witch?"

"It was a career choice, a long time ago."

"Enjoyable?"

"Most of the time. What sort of entry does the Power of Light have going?"

"Oh, we're calling it a Gothic cathedral-a radically new concept in the architecture of devotion and goodness."

"How does it differ from the regular variety? Here, let me freshen your drink."

"Thanks."

When she returned, he began explaining Gothic cathe­drals. She smiled and nodded regularly, fascinated.

Scarlet paced before Ylith.

"I'm getting so sick of napping," she said.

She continued to pace.

"I'm never fully awake, it seems, and I can't get a good night's sleep either. I need to do something more than stay here in this stupid castle waiting for some guy to come along and wake me up. I want to get out of here! I want to talk to someone!"

"You can talk to me," Ylith replied.

"Oh, Aunt Ylith, you're very nice. I'd be completely out of my mind if you weren't here. But I'd like to talk to someone else. You know ... a man."

"I wish I could help you," Ylith said. "But you know you're not supposed to have any company. You're just supposed to sleep until Prince Charming gets here."

"I know, I know," Scarlet said. Tears filled her eyes. "But it's so boring, just sleeping all the time. And not even sleeping well. Napping! Oh, please, Aunt Ylith, isn't there some way you can help me?"

Ylith considered. She felt more irritated with Azzie than before. She should have known better than to trust him again. Still, there was nothing she could do about it now.

The following day, there came a knocking at the gate: it came during one of Scarlet's rare moments of wakefulness, and she rushed down to open it herself.

Standing at the door was a six-foot frog dressed in foot­man's livery, with a white peruke slightly askew on his warty green head.

"Hello," Scarlet said calmly. She was getting quite used to enchanted visitations. After talking with Azzie-who was very strange, in his puff-of-smoke comings and goings-and Ylith, who spent considerable time before a magic mirror, ob­serving the townspeople at the foot of the mountain, as well as points distant (including the nether regions and lower astral realms)-nothing could surprise her. "Are you the Prince who's supposed to awaken me?"

"Heavens no!" the frog said. "I am a messenger."

"But underneath the frog disguise you're really a handsome young man, aren't you?"

"Afraid not," he replied. "I've been enchanted to possess the power of human speech and made to be six feet tall."

"What are you like when you're not enchanted?"

"I'm six inches tall and I croak."

"What do you want? "

"I have an invitation for you."

He held out a square of cardboard upon which letters had been embossed:

YOU ARE INVITED TO A CELEBRATION

MASKED BALL IN HONOR OF

CINDERELLA AND HER PRINCE

MUSIC BY ORLANDO AND THE FURIOSOS

GIORDANO BRUNO AND THE HERMETIC TRADITION

SPARTACUS AND THE REVOLTING SLAVES

CHARADES, DOOR PRIZES

TASTEFUL REVELRY

"Oh, thank you!" Scarlet said. "But why did Princess "Cinderella ask me? I don't even know her."

"She heard that you are alone here and is sympathetic to your plight. She's had her own problems, you know."