Section F: Fairy Tales & Physicists

Chapter 12

"You brought me a new vessel! How lovely."

Peregrine and Fields exchanged a glance, as Fields' misgivings about allowing the entity to come with them—convoluted back-story and pan-dimensional capabilities notwithstanding—continued to grow. He glared at the old man, shuffling along behind the younger, more sprightly members of the party, i.e., everyone else.

"What's that?"

Ken pointed at the rear seat of the Jag. "The strapping, young, comatose man there. That looks like just the body for me. I'll have no trouble keeping up with you lot, once I jump behind the steering wheel of that little number. Just give me a few minutes to get wired in, and we can be on our way."

Peregrine paused in the act of opening the driver's side door. "Er, I don't think you can do that, Ken. We don't know a lot about good old Prince Power Nap there, but presumably he's going to want his body back, if and when he decides to wake up."

The old man peered through the rear window. "Wake up? Oh, I don't think so. I can't read minds, Peregrine, but I can certainly sense brain function, and I can assure you that young fellow has all the mental faculties of an overcooked cabbage. Possibly less. His brain makes Ken's seem positively showroom fresh."

"Well, maybe he's just not very bright," suggested Embers. "Take my husband...er, that is to say, in my experience, sometimes princes are not necessarily the sharpest swords in the armoury." Her eyes took on a faraway, wistful look. "Or the longest."

There were a few seconds of intensively contemplative silence before the entity went on. "Ahem. Well, be that as it may, if said armoury contained cannonballs, even they would be sharper than the young man in the back seat there. Quite frankly, his brain is mush. Or, in other words, perfect for my needs."

"So, the witch's curse fried the prince's brain?" asked Fields, painfully aware of how well that one little question neatly encapsulated the mind-bogglingly surreal absurdity of his day—so far.

"Curse?" The entity frowned at the younger man. "What on this Earth are you on about? There's no such thing, you idiot. You know, you struck me as being positioned somewhere towards the less endowed end of the intelligence spectrum, but I didn't realise quite how far along. Peregrine, when this partner inevitably goes the way of your last dozen or two, I'd suggest next time you look for one a little quicker on the uptake. Now, shut up the lot of you, while I jump ship."

And, just like that—the change sudden yet subtle—the old man was transformed. There were no dramatic movements, he didn't utter a sound, yet it was clear to everyone present something had happened—something fundamental. The eyes, glittering and alive with intelligence, glazed over. The face, formerly so animated and expressive, became slack. The indefinable air of restless, keen interest, evident since the entity had first woken, was now, without question, gone. Standing before them was an old man blinking vacantly in the sunlight, and nothing more.

There was barely time to absorb this transformation, however, before movement in the back seat of the Jaguar drew everyone's attention. The prince—until now still and seemingly lifeless—twitched. His eyelids flickered. He drew a long, shuddering breath. And then his eyes, which had been so long shut, at last opened.

Sapphire blue. Fields sighed. Of course. And bloody captivating. Typical.

A frown of mild puzzlement marring his tanned, chiselled features, the prince surveyed his surroundings, pausing as his gaze came to rest on Embers. Ever so slowly, the frown morphed into a smile, which although faint and somewhat vague, still somehow managed to be sufficiently lascivious for the princess to blush to the roots of her cascading blonde hair. And then, with great care and deliberation, as if working out how to do it for the very first time, the prince winked. The gaze moved on.