Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

Chapter 7

The pumpkin coach glided up to the canopied reception area, moving silently on its radish wheels. The frog foot­man hopped out and opened the door for Scarlet. She stepped out, taking care not to mess her gown. It was a beautiful thing, pink tulle with a sprig of hyacinth, created especially for her by Michael of Perugia and charged to Azzie's account.

Uniformed attendants welcomed her and led her inside. The ballroom was a blaze of color and light. At the far end was the orchestra. Princess Scarlet was dazzled. Never had she seen a spectacle such as this. It was like something out of a fairy tale, and the fact that she herself was something out of a fairy tale made it no less wonderful.

"You must be Princess Scarlet!" Scarlet was being ad­dressed by a radiantly beautiful young woman of about her own age.

"Are you Princess Cinderella?" Scarlet said.

"How did you recognize me? Do I have soot on my nose?"

"Oh, no ... I just assumed... having gotten your invi­tation... ." Scarlet was filled with confusion, but Cinderella laughed and put her at ease. "It was just my little jest! I am so glad you could come. I heard you are under a sleeping spell."

"Actually it's a napping spell. But how did you hear about it?"

"Word gets around in the domain of fairy tales," Cinderella said. "If you should need them, we have resting rooms upstairs, and a variety of stimulants if your spell responds to chemical means."

"No need," Scarlet said. "I was able to get a temporary rescindment."

"However you did it, I am very glad you could come. This is the debutante event of the season, you know. We have many eligible bachelors here, mostly of the nobility, but also a few enterprising and famous commoners like Jack of the Beanstalk and Peer Gynt. Come, let me get you a glass of champagne and introduce you to some people."

Cinderella gave Scarlet a foaming glass of champagne and, taking her hand, led her around from one group of gorgeously dressed people to the next. Scarlet's head was awhirl, and the music - loud, rhythmic-was setting her dancer's toes to tap­ping. She was pleased when a tall, dark, handsome man in a gold lamé suit and crimson turban asked her to dance.

They whirled around the dance floor. The turbaned man introduced himself as Achmed Ali. He was a fine dancer, con­versant with the newest steps. Scarlet had a dancer's quick instinct for dance steps, and so she soon found herself doing the straddle duck, the limping elbow, the pigmy hop, the de­lirious dogleg, and the double wolverine, all dance sensations of that eventful year of the Millennium. Achmed Ali seemed to float across the floor, matching her consummate skill with his own scarcely inferior efforts. The other dancers moved back to clear a space for them, so obviously superior were they to the common lot. The orchestra segued into Swan Lake, so balletic was the spectacle before them. Around and around Scarlet and Achmed whirled while the trumpets blasted and the steel guitars whined, turning ever more daring pas de deux, whirling, tap­ping, stamping, as the applause mounted. At last, for the finale, Achmed Ali danced her out of the ballroom and onto a little balcony.

The balcony overlooked a little lake. The moon had just risen, and little silvery ripples moved slowly toward the dark shore. Princess Scarlet fanned herself with the Chinese fan that Supply had provided and, turning to Achmed Ali, said in formal tones, "Belike, sir, I've not seen thy match for overall all-in dancing eftsoons."

"Nor I thine," Achmed answered gallantly. His face, which was spread neatly along either side of his hawk nose, had firm, finely cut lips of pale pink behind which teeth of a nacreous white could be seen when he smiled or lifted his lip in the small sneer with which he expressed emotion. He told Scarlet that he was a prince from the court of the Grand Turk, whose lands stretched from the misty frontier of eastern Turkestan to the sea-shrouded coastline of hither Asia. He described the splendor of the Grand Turk's palace, which had so many rooms that they were uncountable save by those skilled in mathematical necromancy. He told her of the palace's main features, the carp ponds, the mineral springs, the great library where could be found writings from all over the world. He mentioned the kitch­ens where delicacies of unusual splendor were prepared every day for the delectation of the ensemble of happy and talented young people who made up the court. He told her how she would dazzle all of the beauties of that court with the previously unheard-of splendor of her delicate and finely proportioned features. He declared that he, despite their short acquain­tanceship, was utterly and entirely smitten with her, and begged her to accompany him so he could show her the splendors of the Grand Turk's domain and, if she so desired, stay on for a while. He described the luxurious presents that he would shower on her, and he went on in that vein and similar veins and tendentious arteries of teasing promises for so long that the Princess' head was turned and turned again.

"I would like to go with you and see these things," Princess Scarlet said. "But I promised my aunt that I would return home immediately after the ball."

"No problem," Achmed said. He snapped his fingers. There was a flapping sound in the air, and Princess Scarlet beheld a large and luxurious Persian carpet which had come seemingly from nowhere and hovered now at the level of the balcony.

"This is a flying carpet," Achmed said. "It is a common means of transport in my land, and by utilizing it I can take you to the Grand Turk's court, show you around, and return you to this very spot before the evening is out."

"It is very tempting, "Scarlet said. "But I really shouldn't. ..."

Achmed Ali smiled a subtle smile of incredible attractive­ness and stepped from the balcony onto the carpet. He turned to Scarlet, extending his hand.

"Come with me, beautiful princess," he said. "I am crazy about you and I will show you a very good time and respect you throughout and I will have you back here in plenty of time to return to your esteemed aunt as you had originally planned."

Princess Scarlet knew she shouldn't. But the unexpected freedom, the temporary relief from the napping spell, the gran­deur of the ball, the mysterious and tantalizing presence of Achmed Ali, the glass of unaccustomed champagne, and the perfume of the Mater Delirium plant that grew beneath the balcony all combined to make her senses reel and cause a feeling of boldness to come over her. Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she accepted Achmed's hand and stepped onto the carpet.