"Listen," he said to Miss Sycophant, "it's been fun and I've really enjoyed meeting you. But I have to be going now. Don't worry, the bill's paid for."
And so saying he set out at once, stepping into a handy conjuring booth that the club had put aside for those fastidious members who didn't like to conjure in public. He directed himself toward the past of the Earth, because he had gotten somewhat ahead of himself. The spell kicked in and years flipped backwards like leaves off a calendar in some future age when such things exist. Moving faster than the speed of recollection, Azzie saw the panorama of time coiling back on itself, swallowing its own tail. Old men grew young, volcanoes receded and returned to their caps, icebergs flowed north and south, and the race of man shrank and dwindled.
At last he passed entirely out of human territory and came into the lands of legend that Homer and others had caused to come into being. There was Lethe ahead, and then the great cavern of Avernus was in sight, and he streaked into it, following its winding and turning as it descended into the depths of Hell and joined up with the Styx. It was like traveling through the intestines of a snake. The whole thing was lit in pale and ghastly colors by towering phosphorescent crags, and sometimes Azzie could see men standing on those rocks, heroic naked men draped in sheets like refugees from a Dore etching. But now he was at the place he had conjured himself to, where the territory of Hell began.
Azzie turned and flew over the Styx itself, until finally he came upon Charon's houseboat, nestled close to the muddy bank. In the back of the craft, Faust and Helen sat and watched the black rippling water and made small talk.
Azzie swooped down and made a neat landing on the houseboat. The boat barely rocked when he set down, so lightly did he step, though Charon did look up to see who had alighted on his boat. Azzie paid him no mind.
"How now!" Azzie cried. "Dr. Faust! Good day to you!"
"Hail to thee, foul spirit," Faust said. "What brings you to these parts?"
"I just thought I'd look you up." Azzie sat down on a folding chair that was propped against the rail.
"How are things going?"
"Well enough," Faust said. "Charon is not so easy to get along with, but I think I have convinced him enough so that he will cooperate with me."
"Convince Charon? How did you manage to do that?"
"I pointed out to him that I was giving him an opportunity to be in on the very beginning of a brave new myth."
"What myth is that?" Azzie asked.
"Why, it is the story of the great meeting between Faust and Charon; of how, with Charon's cooperation, Faust traveled to places unheard-of before, bringing with him the beautiful Helen."
Azzie ignored her. He said to Faust, "I've got another proposition for you."
"I told you before. I will not obey you."
"That's not what I'm asking," Azzie said. "Look. The game for the rulership of the Millennium is running.
This guy Mack is doing it, playing your role. It's not the way I would have done it, but that's what's happened. He's already gone through two episodes. Whether he did well or badly is beside the point.
What's done is done, and there's nothing either you or I can do about it. So I say, let it alone. Stop trying to take over Mack's part. Drop out of the drama. And I'll make it worth your while, Doctor."
"How do you propose to do that?"
"I'm going to pick a period in history that's just tailor-made for your talents. You will be rich, and acclaimed by everyone."
"Is it just me doing this?" Faust asked. "Or will I have a suitable consort along with me?"
There was Faust, bargaining again! Azzie said, "All this will be with Helen at your side, for she goes along with the bargain. Johann, you'll be the envy of all mankind. And you'll be rich, Doctor, rich beyond even your dreams of wealth."
"With your talent for trickery," Faust said, "you'll give me all that but have me brainstruck or paralyzed so that I can't enjoy it. I know your way, demon!"
"You think I would do something like that?" Azzie said. "I may be evil, but I'm not bad. But I'll tell you what, to make it all even better, I'll throw in the full rejuvenation treatment. It'll make you look, feel, be, a new man, intellectually and physically. You'll have many many years of vigorous life ahead of you. And it will be good, Doctor, oh, my, it will be so good!"
So much did Azzie get carried away with his selling job that he kissed his hand in a florid gesture that was not his typical style. But Faust was unmoved.
"No," Faust said, "I'm sorry, I understand your feelings. But I just can't do it."
"But why not?" Azzie wailed.
"It would not be Faustian, you see. I know you have to think about your contest. But I have to think about the greatness of Faust, and, if there's any time left over, to think about the future of mankind in general. I'm sorry, foul fiend, but I cannot oblige you."
"Well, it was worth a try," Azzie said. "What will you do now?"
"I propose to take my rightful place in the contest. I don't know if I have time to get to Florence. But after that, the next act is to begin in London. I have already proposed to Charon that he take me there. It would be a pleasant change for him, to spend a day boating on the Thames."
Charon had been listening. Now he shuffled over, and, laughing his uncanny laugh, said, "Yes, Faust, it was agreed upon, but only on condition that you give me a Traveling Spell that will provide the motive power to take us there. The ship of the dead doesn't run through space and time on oars alone, you know."
Spell. My own is considerably depleted. Do you think you could spare me a spell recharge? Or better yet, give me a whole new Traveling Spell and Charon and I will be on our way."
"Certainly," Azzie said, and took a small spell out of his pouch, surreptitiously tore away the defective—don't use label the Board of Spell Standards had given to it, and handed it to Faust. "Best of luck," he said, and then conjured himself away.
He was very pleased with himself. He didn't have to worry about Faust. The fellow was going to neutralize himself, with a little help from a sly, fox-faced, spell-giving, egg-sucking demon.
CHAPTER 3
"Earlier," Faust asked Helen, while Charon was preparing the boat for a new destination, "what did you mean by 'hah?"
Helen, beautiful and unapproachable, stood at the rail, watching the time fish gulp up odd moments. The dark water turned and roiled, and reflections of the deeds of men and gods played dimly on its surfaces.
Without turning she replied, "It is an expression of contempt, which is the emotion I feel for you and your sexist ways."
"Sexist? Me? But I'm Faust!"
"Good for you! But what about me? You may have a great intellect in some matters, but you still consider a woman an object to be fought over and won as a trophy in the ridiculous wars you men fight to prove such things."
"This line of argument doesn't sound like the Helen we've come to expect," Faust said. "You're talking like an intellectual rather than the pretty piece of puff pastry men have always taken you for. History doesn't record your views on the subject of men."
"That's because History is sexist," Helen said. "The winners get to tell their version of things. And why should it be otherwise? Might makes right and we become what you say we are. Talk about unfair typecasting!"
"What do you have to complain about?" Faust asked. "You're beautiful and famous!"
"But they've got me in an eternal ingenue role. My friends laugh at me. And why? Because fools like you keep on mooning about me and think they're hot stuff because they can enslave me."
Faust said, "Me, enslave thee? Say nay, fair Helen! For rather am I slave to thee, and stand obedient to your slightest whim."
"Yeah? Then how about taking me back to Hades where the demon stole me from?"