Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

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.

"These are dwarves of my tribe," Rognir said. "I could make introductions, but why bother? You aren't going to be here long enough for small talk and amusing conversation."

"But what is this all about?" Azzie said, though he had a pretty good idea.

"You owe me, that's what it's about," Rognir said.

"I know that. But is this any way to discuss it?"

"Your servant wouldn't allow us in when we came to talk to you about it."

"That Frike," Azzie said with a chuckle. "He's so protec­tive."

"Perhaps he is. But I want my money. And I'm here to collect. Immediately. At this moment."

Azzie shrugged. "You've probably already gone through my pockets. You know I don't have anything on me but small change and a spare charm or two."

"You don't even have that anymore," Rognir said. "We took them away."

"Then what more do you want?"

"Payment! I want not only the profit you promised me on my treasure, but the treasure itself back."

Azzie gave a small, amused laugh. "My dear fellow! There was no need for all this. As a matter of fact, I'd come to Paris for the purpose of finding you and telling you how well your investment was doing."

"Hah!" Rognir said, an expletive which could have meant anything but probably implied disbelief.

"Come now, Rognir, there's no need of this. Release me and we'll talk it over like gentlemen."

"You are no gentleman," Rognir said. "You are a demon."

"And you're a dwarf," Azzie said. "But you know what I mean."

"I want my money."

"You seem to have forgotten that the deal was for a year," Azzie said. "The time's not up. You're doing well. When the time runs out you'll get your capital back."

"I've been thinking this over, and I've decided that I don't trust the notion of putting one's capital out to work this way. It seems it might do something terrible to the working classes - like us dwarves. You know, a jewel in the sack is worth two or three on some foreign market that might go bust."

"A deal's a deal," Azzie said, "and you agreed to let me have it for a year."

"Well, I'm disagreeing now. I want my poke back."

"I can't do anything for you tied up like this," Azzie said.

"But if we release you, you'll pop out a spell and that'll be it for us and our money."

That was exactly what Azzie had been planning. To turn attention away from it, he said, "What is this 'us' stuff? Why are these other dwarves involved?"

"They're my partners in this venture," Rognir said. "Maybe you can talk around me, but you won't get around them so easily."

One of the dwarves came forward. He was short even for a dwarf, and his beard was white except around the mouth, where it was stained yellow from chewing tobacco.

"I am Elgar," he said. "You have hoodwinked this sim­pleminded dwarf Rognir, but you're not going to get away with that with us. Give us back our money immediately. Or else."

"I told you," Azzie said. "I can't do anything with both my arms tied. I can't even blow my nose."

"Why would you want to blow your nose?" Elgar said. "It's not running."

"It was a figure of speech," Azzie said. "What I meant-"

"We know what you meant," Elgar said. "You're not going to put anything over on us. We have plans for you, my fine friend, since you can't pay."

"I can pay, but not trussed to a chair like this!" He smiled in a winning manner. "Untie me and give me a chance to go after some funds. I'll come right back, and I'll swear any oath you please to that effect."

"You're not going anywhere," Elgar said. "If we give you an inch, you'll be all over us with your damnable enchantments. No, you have a count of three to produce everything you owe to Rognir. One, two, three. No money? That's that, then."

"What do you mean?" Azzie asked. "What's what?"

"You're for it, that's what's what."

"For what?"

Elgar turned to the others. "Okay, boys, let's take him to the Wheel of Labor."

That was something Azzie had never heard of before. But it looked as if he were going to learn soon what it was. Small horny hands, lots of them, lifted the chair with Azzie in it and bore it deeper into the cavern.