“Nachos,” the servitor said.
“What are they?”
“Something which François the Expeditious brought back from the New World.”
So Azzie had the nachos, which turned out to be oat chips covered in a smelly Camembert with tomato sauce over them. He washed them down with a piggard of dark ale imported from England and started feeling better at once.
As Azzie was eating he had the feeling that someone was watching him. He began looking around the room. There was a table in a far corner which was dark, unlighted even by a candle. He could perceive movement in the gloom. The sense of being watched seemed to emanate from there.
Azzie decided to ignore it at first. He ordered up another plate of nachos and switched to wine. After a while he began to grow tipsy. Then, as the evening rollicked on, Azzie became drunk. Not just pig drunk, but demon drunk. That was very drunk indeed. He began to sing a little song that demons from Canaan sing when they are having a good time. The lines went:
Oh, I am feeling no pain
And I haven’t any name
For the fine old fun
That often doth come
When I’m drunk and feeling no pain.
The song had several other verses, but he was having difficulty remembering them, or, indeed, anything else. It was very late. He had the feeling he’d been in this place a long time. Looking around, he saw that the other patrons had fled. What had they put into his wine? He was dizzy now; far more than tipsy, he was staggering drunk. There was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he wasn’t sure he could stand up. Finally, with great deliberation, he brought himself to his feet. “Who’s doing this to me?” he said, but the words came out all garbled.
“Hello there, Azzie,” a voice said behind him.
Azzie had the feeling he’d heard this voice before. He tried to turn around. But just then something heavy crashed into the back of his head, near the left ear, always a delicate spot in demons. Normally he could throw off the effects of a blow like that. You don’t put a demon down easily. But this time, combined with the strong spirits and with whatever somebody may have mixed into the drink, he had no resistance. Damnation! He had gotten himself into a spot. And that was all he thought at the moment, because he passed out so quickly he wasn’t aware of doing so until much later.
Chapter 10
Azzie awoke some undetermined time later. He came back to consciousness groggily and not too happily. He had a hangover which was monumental in its size and extent. He tried to roll over to ease the aching in his head and found that he could only move slightly. His arms seemed to be tied. Also his legs. And he himself was strapped to a very large chair.
He opened his eyes two or three times, experimentally, then opened them definitively and looked around. He was in a sort of underground grotto. He could see the walls of the cave, shining with phosphorescence from the mica in the rocks.
“Hello!” he called. “Is anyone there?”
“Oh, yes, I’m here all right,” a voice said.
Azzie strained and after a while perceived a figure in the gloom. It was a small figure, and it had a beard. He recognized the features, such features as were visible under all the facial hair.
“Rognir!” For it was indeed the dwarf whom he had gotten to give him the felixite and his treasure.
“Greetings, Azzie,” Rognir said. His voice was bright with malice. “Not feeling too good?”
“Not exactly good, no,” Azzie said. “But never mind, I’ve got great powers of recuperation. I seem to be entangled in something that is holding me to this chair. If you would kindly release me, and give me a drink of water, I think I’d be quite all right.”
“Release you?” Rognir said. His laughter was scornful, as the laughter of dwarves so often is. Others joined in, following it up with mutterings.
“Who are you talking to?” Azzie asked. Now that his eyes were growing more accustomed to things, he could see that there were other figures in the cavern with him and Rognir. They were small men, dwarves all, and their eyes glittered as they stood in a ring, peering up at him.