Gwyneth stood by her door waiting for the mnemonic page to arrive. He did finally, in a flurry of red and blue awkwardness until he settled himself on her couch with a loud thump. She looked the boy over briefly and sighed. He wasn't exactly what she had wanted, but he'd do. This one was fresh out of the academy.

In her most haughty voice she began, "Page, can you remember everything I say to you word for word?"

"Yes," his voice crackled.

"Good. I would like to place a summons, an ad. I want it called from the town square . . ."

"Is it true that the Demon keeps you here locked up all the time?" his eyes were wide with wonder.

"Yes, now about my ad, I want all the pages to say this every day, until I am free. Wanted: one hero with . . . "

"Is it true that he only allows you one visitor a century, for one hour, and you chose me?" The page's eyes were watering; Gwyneth handed him a tissue.

"I didn't choose. I took a risk in asking for a mnemonic, if the Demon suspects...anyway, I didn't ask for you specifically, I asked for a mnemonic page. Now for my ad, one hero who can jump the unfathomable chasm, hurdle the firewall . . . . "

"Have you been up here long? What does the Demon want with you? Does he hurt you?"

Gwyneth resisted the urge to pull out her hair. "I've been here four hundred years! No, the Demon doesn't hurt me. I am simply a conversationalist. I make great conversation that combined with my beauty makes me a great companion. He talks with me to sort through his ideas, solidify his plans. He reads his demonic speeches to me, to see if they're funny or serious enough. Yes, I am still a virgin. He hasn't ravished me, and he never will. He has had a crush on another Demoness for eons -- who won't even give him the temperature in hell!" she paused and took a deep breath. Learn to control your anger, she chastised herself. This boy was after all the first human she had seen in a hundred years. "The Demon is pleasant to me. He indulges and spoils me."

The boy, oblivious to her anger, continued his questioning spree, "Then why do you want to leave if he treats you so well?"

"Can't you hear my biological clock ticking? Don't you think it's hard on a Lady, even an excellent conversationalist who doesn't get ravished, to be locked up in a tower for four centuries? Don't you think I would like to get out getting some exercise, seeing people, places, things? Live! Don't you think I want to live? I didn't choose this you know. I am being held against my will here, and we only have one hour. Can we please get my advertisement done? Even if only one hero breaks through for one hour it will be worth it!"

Gwyneth watched as the dark-haired boy swallowed and loosened his shirt from around his neck. He was the only one available on such short notice.

"Now, let's get back to my advertisement. Wanted: One hero, who can jump the unfathomable chasm, hurdle the firewall, and climb the unclimbable tower. He must be tall -- at least taller than me, dark, handsome, well-built, funny, intelligent, enjoy taking moonlit strolls, have lots and lots of money, buy me pretty things, and above all be a good conversationalist. I enjoy a good conversation!" Gwyneth hugged a small doll to her breast dreamily. A faint smile tinted her face as she looked out her seven hundred foot obsidian tower.

"Is that all?" The page stood up, ready to recite her message back to her.

Gwyneth started and realized that she had left out a few details, "Oh yes, he also must be kind and caring, and sensitive. I nearly forgot that." Gwyneth paused counting on her fingers, "Do you think, know at least six languages is too much?"

The page looked at her with a grimace on his face, "Well my Lady, you will be cutting down the number of eligible applicants." Gwyneth didn't like the way his voice wavered.

"Yes," she said as an afterthought, "I suppose having them send me their qualifications first would just be silly. Well that's what happens, when one only has a businesslike Demon to talk to."

The page added, "If they can rescue you from this, I think they will have credentials enough."

Gwyneth nodded, as she realized the truth of his statement. She looked out her little window over the dry desert in which she was situated. The obstacles and the tower itself were invisible, unless you had a special charm or a strong belief in magic. After he kidnaped her, the Demon had a cast a forget spell on everyone who knew her, so no one would attempt a rescue. She had lived without hope for so long it had completely amazed her when she had gotten through to the mnemonic academy using the forbidden crystal ball.

The page was reciting her message back to her. It sounded silly. She wiped a tear from her eye.  It would never work. How could she have been so stupid?

Gwyneth sank into a large cushion and buried her face. She hadn't cried once except when she had visits. They always brought out her emotional side.

"What's wrong?" the page asked.

"It isn't going to work. The ad sounds silly."

"No, it doesn't," the page lied, feeling sorry for the girl, who was three hundred and eighty-three years his senior, but she only looked twenty.

"How can I make it better?" she asked him, while she dabbed her tears away with a pink hanky.

"Well, for one thing, you should describe yourself. No one remembers you. Not even the mnemonic masters. If you want a hero to rescue you, from this," he gestured around at the lush apartment. "You have to be appealing. After all he's going to risk his life for you."

"I don't look old do I?"

"No, you're beautiful."

Gwyneth straightened up and wondered what was appealing to men. She knew what was appealing to demons, and she definitely wasn't that. "How about, young, attractive, noble-lady, with blue eyes and long brown hair, who is smart, talented, enjoys swimming, picnics  . . .  "

"And is very curvaceous and attentive to a man's every need."

Gwyneth eyed the page suspiciously, "Where did you learn about things like that?"

He shrugged, "Believe me, if a hero is going to come up here for a woman. She must satiate his needs. He's gonna be a little desperate, or greedy. There's a reward too  . . .  "

"Why yes, of course. I have a fortune in rubies and diamonds, which are rightfully mine. The Demon gave them to me." She was having doubts about the kind of person who would come and rescue her -- what if she ended with someone she hated worse than the boring tower.

The thought disturbed her until she decided there wasn't anything worse.

Her time was rapidly running-out. She could see the hourglass on the mantle, the sand had dwindled down to only a few minutes worth. "I think you should fix up the description of me, but not anything else. Could you do that?"

The page's face flushed slightly. Gwyneth continued, pleased that she had that effect, "I really enjoyed having you here, uh  . . .  "

"Bertram."

"Bert, I will give you three diamonds, each bigger than the last if you promise me your mnemonic academy will not forget me, and will keep crying my message at least once a day, until I'm rescued. Do you swear?"

"Yes," he said solemnly, "Some day your prince will come and rescue you."

"Well he'd better hurry.  It's been one hundred and forty-six thousand days already!"The sand was running out, quicker than she had expected. She didn't have much time left and she didn't want to leave her only link to the outside world thinking she was mean and bitter. "I'm sorry if I yelled at you. It was just that I have so little time. If the Demon comes back and you're still here, he'll kill you. So you better leave now, just in case." She gave him a light peck on the cheek. "The obstacles are reactivated in less than five minutes. Run!"

Bert took the diamonds and placed them in his breast pocket and blew a kiss of farewell to her, leaving with a flourish.

Gwyneth watched as he mounted his black pony and set-off over the whispering desert. She wondered how many years it would be until someone came to rescue her.

It wasn't long before heroes tried to win her. Who wouldn't for a fortune in jewels and a curvaceous conversationalist?

Gwyneth was terribly disappointed when the first wave of heroes began to arrive. They hadn't listened to her advertisement at all. Not one displayed all her specifications!

The first few Gwyneth didn't want to reach her. She could tell by the looks on their faces that they were in it for the money. So she ran to the Demon and told him. He turned up the heat in the firewall and added a few more surprises of his own. Daunted at not being able to rescue her, they gave up. She watched as hundreds of men tried to jump the unfathomable chasm, hurdle the firewall and climb the tower. Whenever she saw a man who didn't look like her prince she began to add dangers. Sending the pet dragon after them or dropping forget spells over the tower sending the knights and brave farmers off in confusion. She decided that some of these men might be good, even if she didn't like the looks of them and supposed she might be a tad paranoid.

So she devised a complex screening procedure. Which she found out, worked only too well!

The numbers of heroes that tried to rescue her steadily declined. They had dubbed it the impossible quest; only those that were considered foolhardy dreamers would ever attempt it. Their numbers dwindled and dwindled.

Until ten years had gone by without a single hero coming to the tower.

Gwyneth stared out of the tower. She was wondering as usual if she should have ever put in the extra tasks.  It seemed there wasn't a person in the world who could save her and still be a kind person. She pouted, thinking of Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella. How come they had all the luck?

"Gwyneth, you won't believe it," Her harpy (also given to her by the Demon) squawked.  She had perched herself on the window ledge and was breathing deeply. "A semi-handsome hero saved me from the evil troll by giving me a kiss. He didn't think I was ugly one bit!"

Gwyneth leaped up from her seat, suddenly excited. Impulsively she kissed the harpy on her cheek. There might be hope. Her fist test, to bestow a kiss on an ugly harpy, proved that the hero was caring. "Where is he now?"

"He's coming to the mirage of treasure," the harpy chirped shrilly.

Gwyneth couldn't stand it. She ran down to the Demon's room. Luckily he was currently in the dungeons working on attack plans.  She opened the chest where he kept the crystal ball and concentrated, bringing the picture of the hero into the crystal. (Four hundred and seventy-five years in a Demon's tower had taught her a little Demon magic, enough to be considered a witch.)

The harpy had flown down to the Demon's window, "He's got a rather aquiline nose and he has a hairy chest, if you like that sort of thing." 

"I don't mind at all. He's beautiful enough!" Gwyneth said. And he was quite good- looking.  However, he was not the type of guy whom every princess was trying to snatch. But she wasn't a princess, anyway. He had a long protruding nose, wide set fiery brown eyes with dark curled lashes and raised eyebrows. His face was framed with dark hair that was almost black but went reddish brown at its curled tips. His forehead was rather proud and pockmarked on the left side, probably from a childhood case of chicken pox that he had scratched. And he wore cheap black leather armor -- bits of stray chest hair curled out and gleamed in the desert sun.  A large broadsword was strapped to his back.

His steed was equally noble, and dark black as well.

They walked by the mounds of treasure, not even turning to gaze at them. Gwyneth wondered if he had any talismans against illusions or if they could see it. All the other heroes, who had ignored it, did so because they had magical talents. Gwyneth herself wouldn't be fooled, but she had lived with a Demon for a long time. It didn't matter, he had made it past her next task, and it supposedly proved that he wasn't greedy. He only had to answer a set of riddles by the dragon, which would prove him intelligent and a good conversationalist. Then he would have to jump the chasm, hurdle the firewall, and climb the tower to her window.

Gwyneth stuck the crystal in a pocket of her robe and left. She was sure he would make it past the pet-dragon and not be thrown into the portal that would take him to the capital.

She had work to do and descended the stairs to the kitchen. Dinner had been served a long time ago, so there wasn't anyone in there. She made a pot of tea, and she put extra sleeping herbs in it. The cook (a minor demon) was an insomniac and she just happened to know where he kept his herbs.  She placed it all on the dumbwaiter along with some cakes and treats she found on the counter. She closed it off and rang a little bell.

She often made tea for the Demon, experimenting with the many different types of herbs. The clear sound of the bell pierced the kitchen's silence. She slid open the dumbwaiter and a little scrawled thank-you note lay there. Tears arose in her eyes and she quickly dried them. She would miss her Demon.

She packed food and water, then checked on the Demon in her crystal. He was fast asleep. Quickly she went back to his chamber and turned the firewall on low (it was a setting to conserve magical energy). Then left to gather her belongings, wishing she could do more for the hero. She checked the crystal ball again, and saw that the hero was riding toward the tower and would be there any minute.     She packed all her rubies and diamonds in velvet pouches and picked her favorite dresses that showed off her complexion into a stout trunk. She took a magical cloak of warmth and put it over her, and she packed a few treasured forget-me-nots and a drawing of her and the Demon at a hell-raising party. She took her magic books, that the Demon had given her to keep her from boredom, and her flute. When she was all packed, she whistled, calling her harpy.

"Can you saddle Brightfoot for me? He's going to make it. I know it this time."

The harpy nodded, and flew off. Gwyneth shrunk all her bags and her trunk, to the size of a pearl and deposited it in her golden heart-shaped locket.

"Gwyneth!" A strangely familiar voice called out, startling her.

"Bert?" she asked quietly, "Is that you?" She went to the widow and looked down. He was wearing special climbing gear.

"Yes it is I. I've come to get you. I promised I would come."

"What...you did," she said astonished. "You should be older."

"I am. My time in the tower slowed my aging, like you. Magic affects some people more strongly. Can you help me up? I'm dreadfully tired."

Of course she could.  She had forgotten her manners. She helped hoist him into the window awkwardly and they fell to the floor in a heap.

"You've broken the spell."

"My love," he said simply, "I could never forget you." He embraced her. She laughed and hugged him back, suddenly overcome with shyness, she had never expected anyone she had known.

"Why did you come for me? You were only a boy."

"A boy can fall in love too, you know. You've tormented my dreams for years. Now I have you." He pulled her so close she could feel his heart throb in his hairy chest.

"No. I have you," she corrected him playfully. "But I thought you were a mnemonic."

"I am, but I've had time to train myself, thanks to being in the tower. So now I am a knight, a bard, a mnemonic, whatever you want me to be. I am your Prince."

"You took long enough getting here, it's been more days than I can count any more."

"I came as soon as I could," Bert said.

"My Prince," she sighed, and they laughed until they cried. "We had better get out of here before he wakes up. I have my unicorn Brightfoot saddled in the stables." She grasped his hand and led him down the tower. She said good- byes to her harpy and the pet dragon. And promised to write, although, she wouldn't put a return address on the envelope.

She had enough of towers for quite some time.

They rode off into the sunset, hand in hand. While Bert conveyed to her his adventures, then they set off to find some adventures of their own.

The mnemonics still shouted her ad in the streets of the capital for a hundred years more, to their amazement. And everyone scoffed, at the impossible quest, saying no one could meet that girl's expectations.