Roger Zelazny - Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

But why should demons have to be ruled? In theory, demons were autonomous creatures who followed their impulses, i.e., to do evil. But there seemed to be a built-in perversity in the makeup of intelligent creatures, whether natural or superna­tural, that made them go against the grain, against what was best for them, against all the things they should believe. Thus the demons needed the first necessity of government, a bureau of Conformity, and this cheered them no end because their top theorists believed that the enforcing of the standards of evil was worse, evilwise, than the doing of evil itself. It was difficult to be sure of this, but it seemed reasonable.

Azzie was acting in a nonconformist manner as he burst past the guards, who stared at him slack-jawed, taken aback because this was definitely undemonic behavior. Demons are usually toadies to those above them. But they hesitated to chase after and stop him because the fox-headed young demon had seemed more than a little crazed, and if that were so, he might be divinely inspired, that is, inspired by Satan himself, in whose invisible service all of the powers of evil toiled as an act of faith.

Azzie ran through the corridors of the Ministry, well aware why the guardian demons had not tried to stop him. That was all very well, but he knew he was not inspired, and he also knew that the high council would not be amused by any of this. It occurred to him that he had made a very big mistake, had taken more upon himself than he could deal with. But he thrust that thought from his mind, his determination stiffening. Now that he had begun, he would have to continue.

He raced up one side of an impressive double stairway, turned to his left, almost overturning an urn filled with freshly picked spring weeds, and continued down the corridor, making left turns whenever the choice presented itself, racing past sub­ordinate demons with their hands full of papers, until he came to a high bronze door. He knew this had to be the place. He pushed open the door and entered.

When Azzie burst in, the meeting of the Powers of Evil was in full session. It was not a happy meeting. Discontent was man­ifest on the bestial faces of the major demons. Mouths were turned down, eyes red and swollen.

"What is this?" Belial said, standing up on his goat feet to better peer at Azzie, who was now bowing low.

Azzie, tongue-tied, could only stammer and stare.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Azazel said, hunching his mighty shoulders and ruffling his dark wings. "It's a demon of the common sort who has presumed to break in upon us. I don't know what the young are coming to these days. It wasn't like this in my time. Young demons were respectful then, and de­sirous of pleasing their elders. Now they barge around in gangs, sewer gangs I have heard them called, and they don't care whom they offend with their noisy behavior. Not satisfied with this, they even elect one of their number to break into our inner sanctorum and taunt us."

Belial, an old rival of Azazel's, pounded with his hoof on the table and said, in mincing words, "The right honorable member is sufficiently talented to expand a single demonic in­trusion into an onslaught by a sewer warfare gang. I see no gang: only a single rather foolish-looking demon. I would also point out that sanctum is more correct than sanctorum in this case, which the honorable member would know if he had ever mastered the dear old mother tongue, Latin."

Azazel's eyes smoldered, little wisps of blue smoke came out of his snout, corrosive acid dripped from his nose and ate holes in the ironwood table. "I'll not be mocked," he said, "by a jumped-up nature spirit who has been made a demon rather than born one and who, because of his ambiguous ancestry, cannot be relied upon to understand the true nature of evil."

Other members clamored to be heard, because demons loved to argue about who really understood evil, who was most evil, and by extension, who was insufficiently bad. Azzie, how­ever, had now regained his poise. He realized that the attention of the Lord Demons would soon be turned to him. So he made haste to speak in his own defense.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am sorry to be the cause of this dispute. I would not have broken in on you if I had not some­thing urgent to say."

"Yes," Belial said. "Why have you come? And I notice that you haven't brought any presents, as is customary. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I come without presents," Azzie said, "that is true. It was my haste, and I beg apology. But I do bear something more important."

He paused. It was that dramatic demon sense working in him that made him stop at that moment rather than blurt on.

The Demon Lords also knew a thing or two about drama.

They stared at him in accusing silence. After what seemed like forever, Belphegor, who was anxious to adjourn this committee and get a little sleep, said, "All right, damn you, what do you bear that is more important than presents?"

In a low, husky voice, Azzie said, "What I bear, gentlemen, is that most precious of things: an idea."

Azzie's words hit upon a common concern among the Lord Demons, namely, their need for an idea for the coming Light versus Dark festivities, a drama that would be their entry into the contest of Good versus Evil, and whose outcome would demonstrate, homiletically, as it were, the superiority of Evil, thus giving them the right to dominate man's destiny for the next thousand years.

"What is this idea?" Belial asked.

Azzie bowed low and began to tell them the story of Prince Charming.

Fairy tales have great weight and resonance for demons as well as for humans. All of the Demon Lords knew the Prince Charming story-of how a youth came forth to save a princess who had been enchanted by a spell and cast into a perpetual sleep. This prince was Prince Charming, who, aided by his pure heart and loyal spirit, fought his way through the various dan­gers that beset the Princess, conquered them all, won through the wall of thorns to her castle, climbed to the top of the moun­tain of glass upon which her palace had been set, and kissed her. Whereupon she awoke, and they married and lived happily ever after.

Azzie proposed to stage this pretty story, but with char­acters of his own devising.

"Gentlemen, give me a grant so that I can draw freely upon Supply- and I will create a Prince and a Princess who will act out the Prince Charming-Sleeping Beauty story and turn this insipid tale on its ear. My couple will demonstrate a different ending. Their conclusion to the tale, arrived at by their own free will, with only a minimum of behind-the-scenes tampering on my part, will show conclusively, to the enjoyment of our friends and the confusion of our enemies, that given a free hand, evil must inevitably win in the contests of the human spirit."

"Not a bad idea," Azazel said. "But what makes you think that your actors, given free will, will act the way you want them to?"

"That can be ensured," Azzie said, "by careful selection of the body parts, and appropriate education once they are selected and animated into persons."

"Careful selection?" Phlegethon asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"Here is the very first item," Azzie said, "around which I intend to build my Prince Charming."

He removed from his canvas bag the pair of legs he had won at the demons' poker game. The Lord Demons leaned forward to regard them. By the combined weight of their gaze a cloud of body memory issued forth, and each demon could see for himself the history of this pair of legs, and how their owner had come to lose them.

"A devilish cowardly pair of legs indeed," Belial said.

"True, my lord," Azzie said. "A prince with these legs would never stay the course of a difficult trial. The legs them­selves would almost haul him back to shameful safety!"