"Craig Shaw Gardner - Ebenezum 03 - A Night in the Netherhell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Craig Shaw)

The wizard and I go back a long way. I started writing about Ebenezum “way back” in 1977. (In fact,
my first major published story was “A Malady of Magicks” in the October 1978 issue of Fantastic.)
Now, almost ten years later, the Ebenezum Trilogy is finished and in your hands. I couldn’t have done it
without the help, encouragement, and general all-around browbeating of a lot of people, including Ted
White, Orson Scott Card, Marvin Kaye, Lin Carter and Jim Frenkel, who bought the original short
stories; my ever-encouraging agent Merrilee Heifetz; and my editor with the great sense of humor (i.e.
she likes my stuff), Ginjer Buchan-an—along with the rest of the incredibly helpful editorial staff at
Ace/Berkley. Thanks, and a tip of Hubert’s top hat, are also due to Mary Aldridge, Michael Barton,
Stephanie Bendell, Victoria Bolles, Richard Bowker, Jeffrey A. Carver, Amy Sue Chase, Caryl Fox,
Charles L. Grant, Heather Heitkamp, Maggie Ittelson, Spike MacPhee, Jonathan Ostrowsky, Alan
Ryan, Charlotte Young and Tina Zannieri, for services above and beyond the call of duty.




And then there’s my dedication:

This one’s for Elisabeth especially without whom . . .

ONE
Contrary to rumor, working side by side with a group of fellow wizards is not the most
unpleasant task in which a magician might participate. In fact, I can think of numerous other
experiences, such as breaking both arms and legs while being pursued by a ravenous demon,
which, under certain conditions, could conceivably be even worse.
—from The Teachings of Ebenezum, Volume XXII
Vushta was gone.
 We stood on the rocky shore of the Inland Sea and stared at the spot where once the greatest city in
all the world had reached its towers to touch the sky. How could an entire city simply vanish? I had
looked forward all my short life to visiting Vushta, city of a thousand forbidden delights, where great
knowledge and great temptation go hand in hand. How I had longed to see the great University of
Wizards, and walk the whole length of the Grand Bazaar, and, just perhaps, skirt a corner of the
Pleasure District, where, it is whispered, brave men had yielded to their baser drives and had never been
seen again. But no, the university, the bazaar, even, yes, the Pleasure District, were beyond me now. Of
all the cities in the world, why was Vushta the one to go?

The boatman had left the seven of us here, on the shore which once led to the city that was the goal of
our quest. Each of us had had a reason to come on this perilous journey to come at last to Vushta, a
place where we might realize our hopes and cure our ills. Now we were all silent, staring at the empty
sky, waiting, perhaps, for the wind to tell us what to do.

“Doom,” intoned Hendrek, the large warrior at my side. His great bronze breastplate, which housed a
girth fully as wide as he was tall, glinted blindingly in the midday sun. All shade had gone with the city and
the wind brought nothing but choking dust.

Hendrek nervously stroked the bag that held his weapon, the cursed warclub Headbasher, which no
man could own, but only rent. His mood, I could tell, fit the rest of our small party. The wizard
Ebenezum, once the greatest mage in all the Western Kingdoms, and the leader of our quest, stroked his
long, white beard reflectively, the tattered remains of his once tasteful robes flapping in the unnatural
breeze. The others in our party watched his grim countenance—the demon Snarks, Hubert the dragon