"Charles de Lint - Pixel Pixies" - читать интересную книгу автора (De Lint Charles)

I pretty much keep an open mind about things that most people would consider preposterous.

"I'd like to buy this," the woman went on.

She held up a trade paperback copy of The Beggars' Shore by Zak Mucha.

"Good choice," I said.

It never surprises me how many truly excellent books end up in the secondary market. Not that I'm
complaining - it's what keeps me in business.
"Please take it as thanks for your advice," I added.

"You're sure?"

I looked down at my computer, where my afternoon's work was now safely saved in its file.

"Oh, yes," I told her.

"Thank you," she said. Reaching into her pocket, she took out a business card and gave it to me. "Call
me if you ever need any other advice along the same lines."

The business card simply said "The Kelledys" in a large script. Under it were the names "Meran and
Cerin" and a phone number. Now I knew why, earlier, she'd seemed familiar. It had just been seeing her
here in the store, out of context, that had thrown me.

"I love your music," I told her. "I've seen you and your husband play several times."

She gave me another of those kind smiles of hers.

"You can probably turn your sweater around again now," she said as she left.

Snippet and I watched her walk by the window. I took off my sweater and put it back on properly.

"Time for your walk," I told Snippet. "But first let me back up this file to a zip disk."

That night, after the mistress and her little dog had gone upstairs, Dick Bobbins crept out of his hobhole
and made his nightly journey up to the store. He replaced the copy of The Woods Colt that he'd been
reading, putting it neatly back on the fiction shelf under "W" for Williamson, fetched the duster, and
started his work. He finished the "History" and "Local Interest" sections, dusting and straightening the
books, and was climbing up on to the "Poetry" shelves near the back of the store when he paused,
hearing something from the front of the store.

Reflected in the front window, he could see the glow of the computer's monitor and realized that the
machine had turned on by itself. That couldn't be good. A faint giggle spilled out of the computer's
speakers, quickly followed by a chorus of other voices, tittering and snickering. That was even less good.

A male face appeared on the screen, looking for all the world as though it could see out of the machine.
Behind him other faces appeared, a whole gaggle of little men in green clothes, good-naturedly pushing
and shoving each other, whispering and giggling. They were red-haired like the mistress, but there the
resemblance ended. Where she was pretty, they were ugly, with short faces, turned-up noses, squinting