Roger Zelazny - Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

"Hi, there," a voice said. "Are you a demon?"

"Who's talking to me?"

"Look down near your right foot and you'll see me."

Azzie looked down and saw a worm about six inches long.

"You're a worm?"

"Yes, I'm a worm. You're a demon?"

"That is correct. And if you can help me, I can offer you a deal you can't turn down."

"What is that?" the worm asked.

"If you'll help me get out of here, I'll make you king of the worms."

"Actually, we worms don't have a king. We have district leaders, and a high council."

"I'll put you in charge of the council."

"First I have to become a district leader in order to become eligible."

"So all right, I'll make you a district leader. What's your name?"

"Elton Wormbrood. But my friends call me Tom."

"Okay, Tom, what about it? Will you help me?"

"I might. It's been pretty quiet down here. I just might help you in order to relieve the tedium. Then again, I might not."

"Well, which is it going to be?"

"I'm not sure. Don't rush me. We worms are kind of sluggish thinkers."

"Sorry. Take your time... . Have you had enough time yet?"

"No, I haven't even begun to think about it."

Azzie controlled his impatience. "All right, take all the time you want. Call me when you've decided."

The worm didn't reply.

"Is that all right?" Azzie asked.

"Is what all right?"

"That you'll tell me when you've made up your mind."

"That sounds all right," the worm said. "But don't get your hopes up."

"Don't worry about it. I'll wait."

And so Azzie began to wait and continued turning the wheel. He could hear the worm moving very softly about the chamber, now on the surface, now burrowing under the earth and rock. Time passed. Azzie couldn't tell how much time. It felt like an awful lot of it. What was annoying was that Azzie's chest itched. An itch is a most uncommonly irritating thing when your hands are tied to a wheel. Azzie found that by arching backward, he could just reach around to the front with his tail. Carefully now, since his tail was very sharp-pointed, Azzie scratched himself.

It felt wonderful. But annoyingly enough, there was some­thing which blocked a really satisfying scratch. He worked the end of his tail carefully up and around it. Yes, there it was. Clenching it in his tail, he brought it out farther where he could see it. It was a couple of inches long and seemed to be made of metal.

"I'm still thinking," the worm said.

"That's good," Azzie answered. He lowered his head and got the cord from which the object hung up and over it. He lowered the object and touched it with his fingertips, first re­tracting his claws for better tactile contact. It seemed to be a key. Yes, it was a key! Azzie remembered now. He had kept a spare key to the castle hanging about his neck, where it would be safe no matter how many times he changed his clothing. It was a common sort of key, and it had a small red gem set into its handle. And inside the gem, he remembered now, there was a small spell that he had put there and forgotten about.

He said to the spell, "What is your name and what do you do?"

A tiny voice from the red gem said, "I am Dirigan. I open doorways."

"Gee, that's great," Azzie said. "How about getting these bindings off me?"

"Let me take a look at them," Dirigan said.

Azzie passed the key over his manacled hands. The light within the jewel pulsed softly, throwing out a ruddy glow.

"I think I can do something about this." The jewel glowed more fiercely, then died out. The manacles fell open.

Azzie's hands came free. "Now, guide me out."

The worm lifted his blunt head and said, "I'm still thinking.

"I wasn't talking to you," Azzie said.

"Oh. Just as well. Because I still haven't made up my mind."

"What mind?" Azzie muttered. With his hands free he felt strong, capable of action again. He moved away from the wheel. Let the dragon shit rain down now! He was out of its way!

"Now," he said, "to find the way out. Spell, give me some light."

The jewel pulsed more brightly, throwing shadows across the cavern walls. Azzie walked until he came to a branching of the ways. There were five different directions he could go in. He asked the jewel, "What way should I head now?"

"How should I know?" said the jewel. "I'm just a minor spell. And now I'm used up."

The light faded out.

Azzie had heard about these underground branchings of the dwarves. They held great menace, for often the tunnel floor was undercut so that someone passing over them would fall through. Down below there were pits, noisome places filled with nasty things. If he fell into one of those, he might never get back up. And the worst of it was, Azzie, like many other demons, was virtually immortal. He could stay in the deepest pit for ages, perhaps forever, alive but bored, if no one came to bring him out. There were stories of demons who had been buried by some misadventure or other. Some of them were said still to be trapped underground, where they had been since earliest times.

He moved forward. He heard the worm rustle, then say, "That's not the right way."

Azzie stepped back. "What way should I go?"

"I still haven't made up my mind whether to help you or not."

"You'd better decide pretty soon," Azzie said. "The offer isn't open indefinitely."

"Oh, all right," Tom Wormbrood said. "I guess I'll help. Take the tunnel on the farthest right."

Azzie did so. As soon as he entered it the ground gave way beneath his feet. He was falling. He just had time to scream, "But you said this one was safe!"

"I lied!" the worm cried. "Ha-ha!"

Azzie was falling, falling.

But it was only a short drop. Five feet perhaps. And to his right was a metal door, marked with a faintly phosphorescent EXIT.

Cursing, he pushed through.

In Augsburg, Frike was wringing his hands, pacing up and down the front yard, watching the sky for a sign of the return of his beloved master. Then he saw a tiny dark speck, which resolved itself quickly into Azzie.

"Oh, master, at last you have returned!"

"As quickly as I was able," Azziesaid. "I was detained by a family of dwarves, a load of dragon manure, a work wheel, and a schizophrenic worm. I hope you have had as pleasant a time and kept a watch on Prince Charming."

Frike's face twisted in sorrow. "I watched out for him, sire, as well as I was able. Dragon manure?"

"Dragon manure. Did he break my stricture and go to the locked room upstairs?"

"That he did, master."

"And once within it, did he find the small locked casket in the upper drawer of my bureau in the closet?"

"He went to it at once, master," Frike said.

"And opening it, did he find the little miniature of the Princess Scarlet?"

"That he did, sire, that he did."

"Then why don't you tell me in your own ill-chosen words what transpired next?"

"Well, sire, the Prince looked upon the visage of the Princess, then looked away, then looked again. Holding the minia­ture in his left hand, he tugged at his lip thoughtfully with his right. He cleared his throat, going 'ahem, ahem,' like a man who knows not what to say yet feels under a compulsion to say something. He set the miniature down very gently and turned and walked a stride or two away. Then he returned and raised it again. Then he put it down, looked away, and with his left hand this time, pulled gently at his upper lip."

"This is a wonderful detailing, Frike," Azzie said. "But could you get to the nitty-gritty, as the heart of the matter is sometimes described?"

"Most certainly, sir. After bemusing himself with repeated looks, or I could more properly call them glances, at the portrait of the young lady in question, he turned to me and said, 'Frike, this girl is a corker.' "