“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.”