Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

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?"

Azzie started to tell her how she could help him, but Babriel frowned and said, "What I need, dear person, is a quantity of the herb gutsia, which is used by mortals for the acquiring of courage."

"I knew you wanted it for a mortal," the supply clerk said. "I can tell at a glance that there's no lack of courage in thy makeup."

"It is dear of thee to say so," Babriel said. "Praise the Lord!"

"Praise Her!" said the clerk.

"What?" Azzie said. "I had always been led to believe - "

"We use 'He' and 'She' interchangeably when speaking of the Supreme Principle of Good."

"Sometimes we even call her 'It,' " the clerk said. "Not that we believe that She is an It, but we try to show no prej­udice."

"Can't you make up your minds?" Azzie asked.

"It makes no difference," she told him. "Supreme Good is beyond sexuality."

"That's not what we're taught," Azzie said. "According to our experts, sexuality is the highest expression of evil, especially when it's good.

"As it could be between you and me, babe," Azzie ended, his voice going husky and a disturbing odor of musk emanating from him.

The clerk frowned and patted her hair and turned to Ba­briel. "Canst thou not restrain this ill-visaged specter of evil who leers at me with unveiled meaning?"

"Oh, hey," Babriel said, "that's just Azzie. He's a demon, you know. They're supposed to act that way-irreverent and sexual. Poor soul, he knows no better. But not even demons are utterly beyond redemption."

"Praise the Lord!" the clerk said.

"Aye, praise Him," Babriel said.

Azzie said, "Hey, look, can we dispense with the hosannas and get on with the stuff I need? You two can go courting on your own time."

"What a hateful thing to say!" the clerk said, blushing and looking away. "I'll check on the gutsia. Wait right here."

She vanished in a beguiling manner.

"You've got cuter supply clerks than we have," Azzie said.

"That's because under the rule of the Good all creatures are equal. Perhaps, since we have to wait, I could explain to you some of the more basic points of our doctrine."

"Don't bother," Azzie said. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Is it so easy for you to do that?"

"Evil is known for its eternal vigilance," Azzie said. "Ex­cept when it gets fed up."

He closed his eyes. Soon the even rhythm of his breathing gave evidence that he was either sleeping or doing a good job of faking it.

Left to his own devices, Babriel said a longish prayer for the salvation and regeneration of all beings, even demons. By the time he had finished, the clerk was back.

"I have the extract of gutsia," she said, handing Babriel a small flask in which colors of red, violet, yellow, and blue could be seen coruscating softly.

"Great," said Babriel. "We thank you. You have been most unfailingly courteous, helpful, kind-"

"Let's get on with it," Azzie said. "Thanks a lot, babe. If you ever want to change your luck - "

The supply clerk vanished in a cloud of indignation.

Azzie went to the kitchen to give Frike instructions in how to mix the gutsia with Charming's cream of leek soup. Grateful as he was to Babriel for procuring it for him, he was deeply suspicious. Why had the angel been so helpful? Pure generosity didn't seem a sufficient motive. Were angels capable of double-dealing? What was Babriel up to?