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  Now he turned the knob in the smaller door and pushed through without knocking.

  There was more of a reception than he anticipated. Six men, almost half of the Council of Lords, rose when he entered. “Prince Charming!” they said in tones of awe and respect. The King remained seated, but beamed at Charming with fatherly affection.

  “Welcome home, son. Hello, Wendell.”

  “Hi, Dad. Good morning, gentlemen. I believe I have a little present for all of you.” Charming tossed the game bag carelessly on the table. Lord Isaac Storm, the most powerful of his father’s vassals, shook it out on the table. A large dead bird rolled across the deeply waxed wood. (Carved oak, what else?) The six Lords examined it carefully.

  “Magellan,” they said happily. “At last we are rid of that scourge.”

  “Good old Maggie,” said the King, prodding the bird with a thick forefinger. “A raven, eh. Must have been trying to flee.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t turn himself into a Magpie. Maggie the Magpie. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “I guess he just didn’t have a sense of humor. Fact is, he seemed a bit upset about something. He didn’t even offer me a drink.”

  The Lords exchanged glances and smiled knowingly at this attempt at self-deprecating humor. It proved, they were sure, that the Prince was even braver and more noble than he appeared.

  “Did you save the Princess?”

  “Don’t I always? She’s a little shook up but none the worse for wear, now safe and sound in the arms of her loving family. That’s why we took so long getting back. They had a victory feast in my honor.”

  “They roasted a whole ox,” said Wendell reverently. “They basted it with this sauce made with honey and raisins. It was awesome. But then,” his voice darkened, “all these families invited the Prince to tea and we went to every one of them. And we had to wear our best clothes all the time.”

  “Thank you for that assessment, Wendell,” the King said gravely. “You may go out and play now.”

  Wendell was off like a shot. The Prince shrugged. “It was a good gig, Dad. We definitely scored some diplomatic points down there.”

  “Prince Charming,” said Lord Storm. “I know I speak for all the noble families, and indeed, for all the people of Illyria when I thank you for your service to this kingdom. Your bravery, your honesty, and your devotion to the cause of justice and mercy reflect an ideal unmatched in the history of our beloved country.”

  “Well, thank you, Lord Isaac. But I’m just doing my duty.”

  “And doing it magnificently, your Highness. But I shall speak no more of this, for I can see I am embarrassing you. Besides, words alone cannot express the gratitude with which we are filled.” Around him the other noblemen nodded. “That is why we come today bearing a gift. All the noble families have contributed to its manufacture. We hope you will honor us by accepting it.”

  “Aw gee, guys. You shouldn’t have. What is it?”

  “Sir Tyrone,” said Lord Storm.

  Sir Tyrone Boldstroke stepped forward, cradling a handsomely carved walnut case in his arms. The other lords parted so he could get through to the table and there he set the wooden box. Carefully he snapped the gold-plated latches. Gently he folded back the top. A hush filled the room as Charming looked into the box.

  “Um,” said the Prince. “It’s a sword.”

  It was indeed a sword. It lay in the case, thirty-six inches of gleaming blade, gently curved steel leading to a jewel-studded hilt. The grip was knurled from aged maple, then wrapped with oiled lambskin leather. The handguard was intricately engraved and gold-plated, and a full month had been spent honing the edge so that it “bit” at the slightest pressure.

  “It is named,” said Lord Storm. “Endeavor. The finest craftsmen in the twenty kingdoms have labored a year in its making. It has been specially designed for your height, weight, reach, and grasp. There is none equal to it anywhere in the world.”

  “Nice,” said the Prince. He picked it up. “Has a good feel to it. I like a sword with some weight.”

  He glanced up at the circle of noblemen and saw a tinge of disappointment in their faces. Clearly “nice” was not the reaction they were expecting. He took a deep breath.

  “Gentlemen, this sword is the most magnificent I have ever held. Or even beheld. From this day forth I shall bear no other.” The noblemen smiled. With a dramatic flourish the Prince tore his old sword from his belt and cast it, clattering, to the stone floor. He held the new sword up high, tilting it toward the window, so it caught the light of the morning sun. “Endeavor,” he told the blade, “From this day forth you shall be my constant companion. From this day forth we will fight together to protect the weak, defend the innocent, smite evil wherever it lurks, and further the cause of justice and decency.” He lowered the sword and thrust it into his scabbard. The nobles burst into applause.

  “Well said, son,” said the King. “And I know I speak for everyone here when I say that our hearts and our prayers go with you on each and every one of your quests.” The nobles applauded again.

  “Thanks, Dad. And thank you, gentlemen. Dad, may I speak with you privately? You know, man to man.”

  “Certainly. Your Lordships, if you’ll excuse us.”

  The noblemen filed out, each one pausing to shake the Prince’s hand. Storm gripped his shoulders. “God be with you, young Charming.”

  “And with you, Sir Isaac.”

  Boldstroke was the last to leave. “If that sword gives you any trouble, your Highness, you bring it right back and I’ll have it taken care of. It’s guaranteed for life against defects in material and workmanship. Just fill out the warranty card and return it in the original box.”

  “I’ll remember that, Sir Tyrone.”

  When the room cleared, Charming closed the door, locked it, and shot the bolt. He turned to his father. The King was filling a glass with wine from a hidden tap built into the arm of his throne.

  “Endeavor?” said the Prince. “The Endeavor? I’ve got a whole room full of these pigstickers and now we’re going to start naming them?”

  “Something the PR department came up with,” said the King. He passed the glass of wine to the Prince and began filling another for himself. “Fancy swords with names are great for catching the public imagination. They love that stuff. Think of Excalibur and all those old stories. Anyway, you only need to carry it a few times. After you’ve slain a dragon or something with it, we’ll put it on public display and charge people tuppence to see it.”

  “But Endeavor? It sounds like a battleship.”

  “Count your blessings, it could have been worse. They originally wanted to call it Dragonskewer. They were going to have master engravers etch little scenes with dragons charging up and down the blade. I told Isaac I thought it sounded a bit garish. Form follows function, that’s the ticket. Come on, my boy. What’s really bothering you?”

  Charming was pacing up and down, two fingers drumming methodically against the hilt of the sword. “Dad, it’s this hero trip. You’ve got to take me off of it. I just can’t handle it anymore.”

  The King choked on his wine. “But why? Charming, you’ve been doing a wonderful job. Superlative! The people love you. Your people. And every time you rid the countryside of some evil influence, your popularity increases even more.” The King pulled a paper scroll from under his robes. “Just look at the results of these polls.”

  “I don’t care about the polls! I’ve had enough! Slaying and rescuing, rescuing and slaying, that’s all I ever do anymore. I’m sick of it. Every two-bit sorcerer, every renegade knight, every dragon, troll, or ogre that sets up shop around here, the first thing he does is grab himself a piece of ass. And then everyone says the same thing. ‘Oh, let’s call Prince Charming to the rescue. He’ll save her.’ And I do. But do I get any thanks for it? Nooooooo!”

  “The Princess Gloria didn’t thank you? I’m sure she’ll send a note. She’s very
well bred.” The King sipped his wine again.

  “No, that’s not what I mean. She thanked me. She even kissed me.”

  This time the King choked and sputtered for a full minute, not getting his words out until Charming pounded him on the back. “She did what?”

  “On the cheek.”

  “Ah. On the cheek.” His Highness tapped his fingers against the arm of the throne. “Well, I guess that’s all right then.”

  “No it isn’t. Look, remember that little Duchess I rescued last month? I had to fight my way through a nest of giant serpents just to get to her. And then I had to answer a bunch of stupid riddles from some lion-type thing. And that dragon at the end nearly turned me into toast. And after all that, you know what she did when I finally freed her? She punched me on the shoulder.”

  The King chuckled. “Hillary always was a bit of a tomboy.”

  “I mean, I’m laying my life on the line for these babes and I think I deserve a little something extra.”

  The King instantly grew stern. “Like what?”

  “Well, you know.”

  “I think I do know. And I think I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

  “Gosh, Dad. A man has his needs.”

  “Are you seriously suggesting that you are entitled to defile the fairest daughters of the twenty kingdoms just because…”

  “Okay, okay. Forget the fairest daughters. Just give me a couple of nights off. I’ll head down to Madam Lucy’s and…”

  “Prince Charming! The scion of our royal family, the symbol of virtue and purity, the epitome of everything that is good and noble in young manhood, does not go around rutting in brothels like a common sailor!”

  “Aw Dad.”

  “Anyway, I had Lucy’s shut down last week. Bad for public morality.”

  “Dad!”

  “That’s quite enough, young man! As a public figure and a member of the royal family, it behooves you to set a good example for the nation’s youth. Premarital intercourse would totally destroy your image. And I shudder to imagine the character of any young woman, royal or common, who would consent to such a sordid liaison. Now report to the Minister of Intelligence for your next slay-and-rescue mission.”

  Defeated for the nonce, the Prince gave a resigned shrug and started for the door. “All right, Dad, but I think you’re letting this popularity thing get out of hand. What are you going to do when people start demanding that I usurp your throne?”

  He left just in time to miss the uneasy shifting of the King’s eyes.

  WENDELL FELL INTO STEP beside him as he trudged across the courtyard. The page was eating a large apple and carrying another one, which he offered to Prince Charming. The Prince took it and bit into it half-heartedly.

  “He didn’t go for it, huh?”

  “No,” said Charming.

  “No red-hot weekend?”

  “No.”

  “Did he take you off the hero mission?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, well,” said Wendell. “The reluctant hero. Reluctant heroes are actually the best kind. If you wanted to be heroic, people would just think you were a show-off.”

  “Mmmmph!” said Charming. He swallowed a bite of apple. “What are you talking about? I’m always trying to be heroic. I have to watch every word I say, dress like a costume party warrior, keep in practice with the sword, lance, and bow, and be courteous and helpful to everyone I meet. You think that’s easy?”

  “Well…”

  “Okay, it probably beats the hell out of plowing a field or pounding an anvil, but still, it’s a full time job. I’d much rather be lying on a mossy bank somewhere with a fishing pole.”

  “That’s what I mean,” said Wendell. “People pick up on that. They think you’d prefer a quiet life, so they appreciate you going out on these adventures. It’s the same thing with being Prince Charming. If it were easy for you to be charming, it wouldn’t command respect. It’s the effort you put into being charming that makes it so, well, charming.”

  The Prince had to smile. “You’re getting awfully philosophical for a kid your age, Wendell. Have you been hanging out with Mandelbaum again?”

  “Yeah, I was just up to see him. He said I’m precocious. He’s working on a spell to keep the frost off strawberries. He thinks it will make him big money.”

  “I ought to ask him for a love potion.”

  “He has them. He only gives them to married couples, though.”

  “Figures.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see Norville. We have another assignment.”

  “We just got back!”

  “Now who’s reluctant?”

  THEY WAITED FOR NORVILLE in the small library, which led off from the big library. The big library was usually inhabited by the court lawyers, who spent hours each day poring over musty tomes. The small library, however, was bereft of books, containing instead a great many maps. The walls were covered with maps and hundreds more were rolled up and stacked in glass fronted map cases. They ranged from simple, quick battlefield sketches, hastily drawn on paper in india ink, to elaborate illuminated maps of the twenty kingdoms, drawn with painstaking detail on parchment or vellum. Such a map of Illyria was posted on the wall; the Prince amused himself by picking the smallest towns he could find and piercing them with his dagger at twelve paces. Wendell sat cross-legged on the floor, taking the edge off Endeavor with a piece of ebony. The Prince didn’t like a sword that was too sharp. He thought a cut from a blade that was slightly dull had more shock value.

  “This is neat. This is really neat,” said Wendell. “This is the neatest sword you’ve ever had.”

  “Too gaudy. First chance you get, Wendell, pry those rubies out of the handle, sell them, and give the money to the poor.”

  “All right. Hey, look at this blade. It’s got little dark lines running right through the metal. They won’t polish out.”

  “That means it’s Damascene steel.” Charming had to admit he was impressed. “That’s a really good steel.”

  “And look at this handle. All this other stuff folds out. Look, here’s a corkscrew, and a nail clippers, and a file, and a leather punch.” He opened up the last blade. “What this?” The final accessory was a short piece of springy round wire, slightly pointed, with a gently curved hook at the end. “Is this one of those things for taking stones out of horses hooves?”

  The Prince looked at it curiously. “I don’t know. I think it’s one of those things for splicing rope.”

  Minister of Intelligence Norville entered. He was dressed in black, as befitted the nation’s number one spy, and carried a thick dossier with him. He extracted some papers from the dossier and passed them to Charming, then sat at a table and made a few notes upon a slate. “Good morning, your Highness. You know about the situation in Tyrovia?”

  “Vaguely,” said Charming. He slouched in a chair, one leg dangling over the armrest, looking out the window.

  “The Wicked Queen Ruby treats her daughter most cruelly. Her stepdaughter actually. She is quite vain and extremely jealous of the daughter’s beauty.”

  “Forget it. I don’t get involved in family squabbles.”

  “Our information is that the Queen dresses the girl in rags and forces her to work as a scullery maid.”

  “Good. I’m a great believer in vocational education.”

  “Prince Charming, I really wish you would make more of an effort to live up to your name. The Wicked Queen is capable of powerful magic. She poses a security risk to this kingdom. This provides us with just the excuse your father has been looking for to eliminate a dangerous rival. And when the young princess inherits her throne, we gain a pliable and easily manipulated ally to the west.”

  “Excuse me?” said Charming. “Security risk? Allies? I’m into political assassination now? I think not. I’m a hero, not a hit man.”

  “Your job is to rescue maidens.”

  “I rescue maidens from fates worse than death and deaths wors
e than fate. I protect the weak, defend the innocent, support the downtrodden, and, um, all that stuff. Protecting young girls from household chores is not exactly in my job description.”

  “Ah,” said Norville. “But the Queen has made an attempt on the girl’s life.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? Popular princess, unpopular Queen. When the girl comes of age, there will certainly be competition for the throne. We heard the story from a woodcutter. He said the Queen offered him a substantial amount of money to cut the girl’s heart out.”

  Charming gave him a skeptical look. “This Queen has all this magical power and she has to hire a woodcutter to stab someone for her? And the guy she picks just happens to be one of our informants?”

  “I admit it sounds rather haphazard,” said Norville. “But such situations do occur. Come now, good sir. The Little Princess is young, she is beautiful…”

  “The Little Princess?”

  “Called so by her people as a term of affection,” said Norville, “And reputed to be of breathtaking beauty. Skin like cream, lips like cherries, that sort of thing. Her name is Ann. Consider, good sir. Here is a sweet and innocent young girl, whose life may be in danger. Surely your noble soul is inspired to feats of gallantry?”

  “Huh.” Charming pointed out the window. “See that milkmaid out there? The one with the big knockers? Her little sister fell down a well once. I plunged in and pulled her out. It was my first rescue. I was thirteen. The milkmaid was crying and hugging me and kept telling me over and over again how grateful she was and how she was going to do something that would show her appreciation.”