“Forget it. It’s a great adventure that’s in store for you.”
“That’s nice, Uncle. But, you know, I’ve been wondering why I’m supposed to find her and kiss her and all, anyway.”
Azzie took on a tone of deepest portent. “My boy, it was written long ago that only a kiss on the lips from her true love would awaken the Princess from the sleep.”
“Hope that works out for her,” Charming said.
“Of course it will! You, Prince Charming, are the destined lover and husband of this fair maid.”
“Are you sure it’s supposed to be me, Uncle? I mean, how do you know it’s not some other fellow’s quest?”
“Because it is so written.”
“Written where?”
“Never mind where,” Azzie said. “Just take my word for it, if I tell you it’s written, it’s written. My boy, you are a very lucky youth. Princess Scarlet is the most beautiful of maidens, and she comes with a rich dowry. It will be difficult and dangerous getting to her, but I know you will do fine.”
“How difficult? How dangerous?”
“There is an enchanted wood to pass through,” Azzie explained. “You must fight the various denizens of the wood. Then there is the glass mountain which you must somehow climb.”
“This sounds extremely difficult,” Charming said. “Glass mountain, eh? Perhaps I could manage it. I don’t know, though.”
“I’ll see that you come to no harm,” Azzie told him. “Trust your old uncle Azzie. Never set you wrong, did I?”
“You won’t get a chance this time either,” Charming said. “I’m not going.”
“At least look at her picture. What do you think?” Azzie asked, showing Prince Charming the miniature.
“She looks all right,” Charming said, in tones of profound disinterest.
“Pretty, huh?” Azzie said.
“In a common sort of way.”
“Fine bright eyes, eh?”
“Astigmatic, no doubt.”
“And the mouth!”
“A regular sort of mouth,” Charming said.
“Tiny! Dainty!”
“Smallish,” Charming conceded.
“She’s lovely, is she not?”
“She’s okay, I suppose,” Charming said. “But I’m too young to have a princess of my own forever and forever. I haven’t even dated yet.”
Charming’s lack of interest was dismaying. Azzie had not expected this. As a fairly typical demon, he was usually in a state of concupiscence. The very idea that this Prince could be so blase about the beautiful Princess astounded him. It irritated him also, and when he thought about it further, it worried him.
If Prince Charming evinced no more than a polite interest in Scarlet, how could he be expected to go through hell and high water to reach her bedside and awaken her with a kiss? With his attitude, he’d be more likely to send her a letter saying, “Time to wake up now, miss.”
In vain Azzie pointed out the Princess’ charms. Charming met them with a devastating indifference which hurt Azzie’s feelings, since the Princess was his creation. But he couldn’t be too angry since he had created the Prince as well, and thus was more or less responsible for his attitude.
This was a turn of events Azzie had not expected. It had never occurred to him that his Prince would not fall instantly in love with Scarlet. Now that his cowardice seemed somewhat under control it seemed he was romantically sluggish.
“Damn!” Azzie observed, gnashing his teeth. “Oh, damn! Another design flaw!”
It was a hellish situation.
Chapter 3
In the evening he put Charming out of the way with a magic sleep. Then he headed for his conjuring room. Frike was there, humming to himself as he topped off vials of agius regae, bloodswart, hellbane, and other herbs and simples which wizardly demons find useful.
“Put that crap away,” Azzie said. “I need to do some conjuring. Bring me ten cc’s of bat’s blood, some demonswart, and a half gill of black hellebore.”
“We’re all out of black hellebore,” Frike said. “Would toadswart or anything else do?”
“I thought I told you to keep the stock up.”
“I’m sorry, master. I developed a taste for it.”
Azzie snorted.
“Stuff’ll stunt your growth,” he observed, “and make your palms hairy. Bring me some heliogabulus root then. It will have to suffice.”
Frike brought the root and, following Azzie’s directions, arranged it around a pentagram which was set into the stone floor with mother-of-pearl. He lighted the black candles, and Azzie intoned the invocation. The words employed many double glottal stops, a common feature of the ancient language of evil. Presently, a wisp of gray and purple smoke appeared in the circle. It expanded, filled out, grew larger, taller, thicker, and finally resolved into the tall figure of Hermes Trismegistus.