"Roger Zelazny & Robert Sheckley - A Farce To Be Reckoned With" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

Westfall was all alone in his upper chamber. He turned to the talisman. "All right, let's get to work," he
said. "I don't know which magical incantations to use, but if you're a genuine charmed object, a mere
indication should be enough. Fetch me a spirit here to do my bidding and be quick about it."

Before his eyes the little stone talisman seemed to heave and sigh. The black sign on its side changed
color, first becoming golden, then deepest red. It began to vibrate as if it had a small but powerful demon
inside. A sort of high-pitched hum emanated from it.

The light in the chamber dimmed as if the talisman were stealing power from the sun. A whorl of dust
rose from the floor and began to rotate in a counterclockwise direction. There were deep sounds
apparently coming from the air, like unto the bellowing of impossibly large cattle. A cloud of green smoke
filled the room, setting Westfall to coughing. While he caught his breath he watched the smoke dispel,
revealing a young woman with lustrous black hair and an expression of pert beauty. She was wearing a
long full skirt with many pleats, and a red silk blouse with dragons embroidered on it in thread of gold.
She had on little high-heeled shoes, and a variety of tasteful jewelry. Right now she was very angry
indeed.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ylith demanded. For it was Ylith whom the talisman had captured,
probably because Azzie's last thoughts had been of her. The talisman must have picked up the
impression.

"Why, I conjured you," Westfall said. "You are a spirit, and you must do my bidding. Right?" he added
hopefully.

"Wrong," Ylith said. "I am an angel or a witch, not a mere spirit, and I am not bound to your talisman. I
suggest that you recalibrate and try again."

"Oh, sorry," Westfall said, but as he spoke Ylith disappeared. Westfall said to the talisman, "Do be more
careful this time. Fetch me the spirit you're supposed to. Do it!"
The talisman quivered as if it felt bad about being reprimanded. A musical note came from it, and then
another. The light in the chamber dimmed again, then returned to full brilliance. There was a puff of
smoke, and from it stepped a man wearing a complicated suit of dark satin and a conical hat. From his
shoulders flowed a navy blue satin cloak embroidered all over with magical signs in gold thread. The man
had a mustache and beard, and he looked entirely out of sorts.

"What is it?" he asked. "I told everyone I was not to be disturbed until after my next sequence of
experiments. How can I be expected to pursue my investigations unless I am left in peace? Who are you
and what do you want?"

"I am Peter Westfall," Westfall said. "I have conjured you by the power of this talisman." Westfall held it
up.

The bearded gentleman said, "You conjured me? What are you talking about? Let me see that!" He
looked closely at the talisman. "Originally Egyptian, but familiar somehow. Unless I miss my guess this is
one of the original series with which King Solomon bound a larger collection of spirits back quite some
time ago. I thought all of these had been retired. Where did you get this?"

"Never mind," Westfall said. "I have it. That's the important thing, and you must obey me."