“What do we care about human deeds?” Poldarge asked. “But go on, sister. Tell us what you want.”
And Ylith told them about the great Millennial contest, and about Azzie, and about how he was going to enter the lists against the Powers of Good by utilizing two human creatures, resuscitated and set into an inverted fairy tale of ominous import. The Sirens and Harpies applauded. The very thought of the next thousand years being consecrated to evil gave them goose bumps of pleasure.
“I am glad you approve,” Ylith said. “But there is a problem. Azzie has disappeared, conjured up by someone.”
“Now, sister,” Poldarge said, “you know we can do nothing about that. We are forbidden to interfere in the affairs of men or demons, except under certain conditions, which are not met here.”
“I do not ask you to find Azzie,” Ylith said. “I’ll do that myself. But it will take time. And meanwhile his actors, those who will play Prince Charming and Princess Scarlet, remain in their coffins unanimated. And since the glacial ice has run out and the ichor is nearly gone, and Azzie not at hand to call up more, they run the risk of decaying in the warmth of Earth’s springtime and thus rendering Azzie’s grand scheme inoperable.”
“That’s sad, no doubt,” Poldarge said. “But why tell us? We have no glacial ice here.”
“Of course not,” Ylith said. “But you are beings of the air, well accustomed to towing helpless creatures from Earth to their damnation.”
“True. But what has this to do with your Prince and Princess?”
“I thought,” Ylith said, “that you might lend a hand in the preserving of their bodies. It is cold that is needed, the cold of the upper reaches of the atmosphere.”
The Harpies conferred among themselves. Then Poldarge said, “Very well, sister, we will take care of these bodies for you. Where did you say they were?”
“In the mansion of the demon, in Augsburg. The way to find it-”
“Don’t worry,” Poldarge said. “Harpies can find any place on Earth. Sisters, come with me!”
Poldarge spread her dark wings and sped into the upper atmosphere. Two more Harpies followed.
Ylith watched them go. Harpies were known to get easily bored. She had no assurance they wouldn’t abandon their charges, and return to the river and their eternal mah-jongg game. But they had a tradition of honor among peers. She just hoped they felt her a member of that select group.
Ylith went aloft now. She had an idea where Azzie might be.
Chapter 9
When the Harpies went off to carry back the bodies, no one had thought to notify Frike. The first thing he learned of the new arrangement occurred when a pair of Harpies burst through the window. He was sitting on a low stool in Azzie’s laboratory, listening to the drip-drip of melting ice and waiting for Ylith to return. Suddenly there was a great fluttering and a bad smell.
For the purpose of efficient flight the Harpies had retracted their legs, so their wide, brazen wings supported only a trunk with prominent breasts and a head. They cawed in loud grating voices and voided themselves over everything.
Frike yelped and ducked under the table. The Harpies spun around the room, buzzing and shrieking. When they spotted the coffins, they flapped over to them. “Stay away, you wretches!” Frike shouted. He went after them with a set of fire tongs. The Harpies turned and attacked him, driving him from the chamber with their steel-tipped wings and green-tipped nails. Frike hurried after a bow and arrow. Before he could fetch them, the Harpies had lifted the Prince and Princess and, flapping heavily now, rose into the air. Frike at last located the weapons and hurried back. But the Harpies were gone, risen high into the sky, and vanishing into the crack between the real and the unreal. Frike shook his fist and then sat down. He hoped Azzie wouldn’t ask him to explain too much. He had very little idea what had happened.
But for that matter, where was the master?
Chapter 10
Azzie had been working in his laboratory when he felt the familiar psychic tug which tells you that you are being conjured. It is a sort of pull that starts from the inside of your stomach. Not unpleasant, but always an unwelcome signal of what lies ahead. It would be all right, perhaps, to be conjured when you were just sitting around without anything much to do. But people tend to call you up just when you are most heavily engaged in something delicate.