"Heinlein, Robert A - Magic Inc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

them, and they did not have bad luck.
What this slimy item meant was that I should deal only with the magicians they
selected at whatever fees they chose to set, and they would take a cut on the
fees and also on the profits of my business. If I didn't choose to cooperate',
I'd be persecuted by elementals they had an arrangement with - renegades,
probably, with human vices - my stock in trade spoiled and my customers
frightened away. If I still held out, I could expect some really dangerous black
magic that would injure or kill me. All this under the pretence of selling me
protection from men I knew and liked.
A neat racket!
I had heard of something of the sort back East, but had not expected it in a
city as small as ours. He sat there, smirking at me, waiting for my reply, and
twisting his neck in his collar, which was too tight. That caused me to notice
something. In spite of his foppish clothes a thread showed on his neck just
above the collar in back. It seemed likely that it was there to support
something next to his skin - an amulet. If so, he was superstitious, even in
this day and age.
There's something you've omitted,' I told him. I'm a seventh son, born under a
caul, and I've got second sight. My luck's all right, but I can see bad luck
hovering over you like cypress over a grave!' I reached out and snatched at the
thread. It snapped and came loose in my hand. There was an amulet on it, rght
enough, an unsavoury little wad of nothing in particular and about as appetizing
as the bottom of a bird cage. I dropped it on the floor and ground it into the
dirt.
He had jumped off the counter and stood facing me, breathing hard. A knife
showed up in his right hand; with his left hand he was warding off the evil eye,
the first and little fingers pointed at me, making the horns of Asmodeus. I knew
I had him - for the time being.
Here's some magic you may not have heard of,' I rapped out, and reached into a
drawer behind the counter. I hauled Out a pistol and pointed it at his face.
Cold iron! Now go back to your owner and tell him there's cold iron waiting for
him, too - both ways!'
He backed away, never taking his eyes off my face. If looks could kill, and so
forth. At the door he paused and spat on the doorsill, then got out of sight
very quickly.
I put the gun away and went about my work, waiting on two customers who came in
just as Mr Nasty Business left. But I will admit that I was worried. A man's
reputation is his most valuable asset. I've built up a name, while still a young
man, for dependable products. It was certain that this bird and his pals would
do all they could to destroy that name - which might be plenty if they were
hooked in with black magicians!
Of course the building-materials game does not involve as much magic as other
lines dealing in less durable goods. People like to know, when they are building
a home, that the bed won't fall into the basement some night, or the roof
disappear and leave them out in the rain.
Besides, building involves quite a lot of iron, and there are very few
commercial sorcerers who can cope with cold iron. The few that can are so
expensive it isn't economical to use them in building. Of course if one of the
cafщ-society crowd, or somebody like that, wants to boast that they have a
summerhouse or a swimming pool built entirely by magic, I'll accept the