“Ylith,” he asked, “will you stay and look after her? I’m afraid she’s a bit unstable. She might fall and do herself harm. But she has spirit, and I’m sure she’ll do what we expect of her.”
“I suppose so,” Ylith said. “By the way, I asked Santa Claus to give Brigitte a fancy dollhouse for Christmas.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“I just told you in case you had forgotten you’d promised her one.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” Azzie said, though he had. “But thanks anyhow. Take good care of her, okay?”
“I’m doing this for you, Azzie,” Ylith said, in a melting voice.
“And I really appreciate it,” Azzie said, in a voice which expressed the opposite. “Gotta go get Charming up and moving. Catch you later, okay?”
Ylith shook her head as her demon lover departed in a flash of showy fireworks. Why had she ever fallen in love with a demon? And if a demon, why this particular demon? She didn’t know. The ways of fate were inscrutable, to say the least.
Chapter 3
I just hope we don’t have any trouble with this one,” Azzie said. “You got those dragon eyes ready, Frike?”
“Yes, master,” Frike said. He opened the waterproof deerskin bag in which the dragon’s eyes soaked in a solution of ichor, salt water, and vinegar. He lifted out the eyes, first remembering to wipe his hands on his smock, for hygiene in those days, while still rudimentary, seemed important in this situation.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Azzie said, inserting them into Charming’s eye sockets and applying ichor around the edges.
And indeed they were handsome eyes – colored like smoky topaz, with a deep glitter to them.
“They worry me, these eyes,” Frike said. “I believe that dragon’s eyes see through falsehood.”
“Just what a hero needs.”
“But won’t he see through this falsehood?” Frike asked, indicating, with a sweep of his arm, Azzie, the mansion, and himself.
“No, my poor Frike,” Azzie said. “Dragon’s eyes cannot see through the falsehood in their own situation. They can detect the flaw in others, but not in themselves. He won’t be easily led astray, our Prince Charming, but he won’t be wise enough or sufficiently farseeing to discover his own situation.”
“Ah!” said Frike. “He stirs!”
Azzie had already taken the precaution of assuming his kindly-uncle disguise. “There, there, lad,” he said, smoothing back the youth’s golden hair.
“Where am I?” Charming asked.
“You might better ask who you are,” Azzie said. “And then you should want to know who I am. Where you are comes a distant third on the list of vital questions.”
“Well, then . . . Who am I?”
“You are a noble prince whose original name has been lost but who is referred to by everyone as ‘Prince Charming.’ ”
“Prince Charming,” the youth mused. He sat up. “I suppose that means I’m of noble blood, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Azzie said. “You are Prince Charming, and I am your uncle Azzie.”
Prince Charming accepted that readily enough. “Hello, Uncle Azzie. I don’t remember you, but if you say you’re my uncle, that’s fine with me. Now that I know that, can I ask where we are?”
“Certainly,” Azzie said. “Augsburg.”
“That’s nice,” Charming said, a little vaguely. “I’ve got a feeling I’ve always wanted to see Augsburg.”
“And so you shall,” Azzie said, smiling to himself to think what a docile creature he’d created. “You’ll get a good look at it during training, and again when you ride out of town on your quest.”
“My quest, Uncle?”
“Yes, lad. You were a famous warrior before the accident that took away your memory.”
“How did I come by this accident, Uncle?”
“Fighting bravely against many foes. You slew numbers of them-you’re very good with a sword, you know-but one of the caitiffs sneaked up behind you and hit you over the head with a broadsword when you weren’t expecting it.”
“That hardly seems fair!”
“People are often unfair,” Azzie said. “Though you’re too innocent to realize that. But never mind. Your pure heart and lofty spirit will win you golden opinions wherever you go.”
“That’s nice,” Charming said. “I want for people to think highly of me.”