"Zelazny, Roger - Amber 10 - Prince Of Chaos" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"Merlin, Prince of the House of Sawall, Prince of Chaos, rise up," it
seemed to say. Then it gnashed its fangs and began again.
At the fourth or fifth repetition it struck me that I might not be
dreaming. There were screams from somewhere outside, and steady pulses of
lightning came and went against almost musical rolls of thunder.
I raised a protective shell before I moved, before I opened my eyes. The
sounds were real, as was the broken shutter. So was the creature at the foot of
the bed.
"Merlin, Merlin. Rise up, Merlin," it said to me--it being a long-snouted,
pointed-eared individual, well-fanged and clawed, of a greenish-silver cast of
complexion, eyes large and shining, damp leathery wings folded against its lean
sides. From its expression, I couldn't tell whether it was smiling or in pain.
"Awaken, Lord of Chaos."
"Gryll," I said, naming an old family servant from the Courts.
"Aye, Lord," it replied. "The same as taught you the bonedance game."
"I'll be damned."
"Business before pleasure, Lord. I've followed the black thread a long and
horrid way to come calling."
"The threads didn't reach this far," I said, "without an awful lot of push.
Maybe even not then. Do they now?"
"It's easier now," he replied.
"How so?"
"His Majesty Swayvill, King of Chaos, sleeps this night with the ancestors
of darkness. I was sent to fetch you back for the ceremonies."
"Now?"
"Now."
"Yeah. Well, okay. Sure. Just let me get my stuff together. How'd it
happen, anyhow?"
I pulled on my boots, donned the rest of my garments, buckled on my blade.
"I am not privy to any details. Of course, it is common knowledge that his
health was poor."
"I want to leave a note," I said.
He nodded.
"A brief one, I trust."
"Yes."
I scrawled on a piece of parchment from the writing table, Coral, Called
away on family business. I'll be in touch, and I laid it beside her hand.
"All right," I said. "How do we do this?"
"I will bear you upon my back, Prince Merlin, as I did long ago."
I nodded as a flood of childhood memories returned to me. Gryll was
immensely strong, as are most demons. But I recalled our games, at Pit's-edge
and out over the darkness, in burial chambers, caves, still-smoking
battlefields, ruined temples, chambers of dead sorcerers, private hells. I
always seemed to have more fun playing with demons than with my mother's
relatives by blood or marriage. I even based my main Chaos form upon one of
their kind.
He absorbed a chair from the room's corner for extra mass, changing shape
to accommodate my adult size. As I climbed upon his elongated torso, catching a
firm hold, he exclaimed, "Ah, Merlin! What magics do you bear these days?"
"I've their control, but not full knowledge of their essence," I answered.