Azzie walked Santa to the front door. He watched as Santa,
moving nimbly for so large a man, scrambled up the trellises to the roof. Soon there was a clatter of hooves and the rest was silence.
Azzie went back inside and opened the package. Within was a miniature mansion and farmyard. It was all nicely detailed with little people dolls, animal dolls. There were tiny windows, mirrors, tables, chairs.
“Could use a little guillotine,” he mused aloud. “I had one here someplace. …”
Chapter 1
Over the next few days Charming continued to progress in the art of fencing. But he did well only when everything went according to form. Unusual things startled him, interrupting his coordination. And he was very distractible. At every birdcall or slammed door he jerked his head around. Irregularities in the ground upset his balance. Every footstep he took forward had a look of retreat to it. Sudden gusts of wind caused him to close his eyes.
But it was mostly his cowardice that bothered Azzie, who knew it to be the real reason for the other signs of ineptitude.
Babriel watched for a long while without comment, though he winced at the young man’s awkwardness and the way he flinched whenever Frike lifted his sword.
“What, exactly, is wrong with him?” Babriel finally asked.
“It’s the coward’s heart I gave him. Instead of imbuing him with basic prudence, as it’s supposed to do, it’s filling his entire system with fear.”
“But if he’s so fearful, how will he go out for his quest?”
“I doubt he’ll go at all,” Azzie said. “I’m trying to motivate him, but nothing is working. It looks like I’m licked before I even get started.”
“Oh, dear,” Babriel said.
“Yeah, well, you might say that, and a lot else.”
“But your contest-the fairy tale you’re planning to present- ”
“Finished, over with, shot down, connsumatus est, and all that.”
“It hardly seems fair,” Babriel said. “But why throw in the sponge so soon? I mean, heck, hang it all, isn’t there something you can do? ”
“I need to get some gutsia for him. But my Supply people can’t seem to find any.”
“Can’t they, now? Bunch of slackers, unless I miss my guess. Let’s see what my fellows can do.”
Azzie stared at him. “You are going to get me gutsia?”
“That is what I propose,” Babriel said.
“But that won’t do you any good!”
“Let me worry about that,” Babriel said. “You’ve been such a nice host, I feel I owe you something. And anyhow, the show must go on, eh?”
Babriel stood up, ducking his head because it was a low grape arbor in which they stood, and reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a plastic credit card. It was very much like Azzie’s, only white instead of jet black. It bore on one side a golden representation of a constellation moving toward the position it would occupy at the Millennium’s end. Babriel looked around for a place to insert it, but couldn’t find one.
“Let’s take a walk,” Babriel said. “Maybe there’s something out here. . . . Ah, here’s a bay tree, they’re always good,” He found a slit in the bay’s bark and inserted the card.
“What’s supposed to happen now?” Azzie asked.
“Give them a moment to respond,” Babriel said. “This is an unusual location for a transmission from an angel of Light, you know.”
“How’s the Gothic cathedral coming?” Azzie asked.
“The walls are a lot higher,” Babriel responded.
In a moment there came a soft explosion, then the sound of a carillon, followed by a fanfare of trumpets. The supply clerk of Light appeared before them. She was a young blond woman who wore a plain white gown which did not prevent Azzie’s noting that she looked pretty good and might be fun to cavort with. He began to hum the ancient melody called “The Night a Sinner Met an Angel” and edged toward her.
The angel slapped him sharply with the small order book she was carrying. “Don’t be crude,” she said in a nice voice that showed that although she meant it, she didn’t hold his attitude against him. Then, to Babriel: “How may I help you?”