"C M Kornbluth - Thirteen O'Clock" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kornbluth C M)

leading down into blackness. "Sort of spooky," he said.

"Not at all! I have the place ghostproofed once a year." The stranger led the way, taking out what
looked like a five-branched electric torch. "What's that?" asked Peter, fascinated by the weird blue light it
shed.

"Hand of glory," said the stranger casually. Peter looked closer and shuddered, holding his Stomach.
Magic, he thought, was all right up to the point where it became grave-robbery.

They arrived at a neatly tiled station; Peter was surprised to find that the trains were tiny things. The one
pulled up on the tracks was not as high as he was. "You'll have to stoke, of course," said the stranger.

"What?" demanded Peter indignantly.

"Usual arrangement. Are you coming or aren't you?"

"Of course-but it seems strange," complained Peter climbing into the engine. Hugo climbed up into the
coal car and curled up emitting short smoky bursts of flame which caused the stranger to keep glancing at
him in fear for his fuel.

"What's in the rest of the train?" asked Peter.

"Freight. This is the through cannonball to Mal-Tava. I have a special shipment for Almarish. Books and
things, furniture, a few cases of liquor-you know?"

"Yes. Any other passengers?"

"Not this month. I haven't much trouble with them. They're usually knights and things out to kill sorcerers
like Almarish. They take their horses along or send them ahead by carpet. Do you plan to kill Almarish?"
Peter choked. "Yes," he finally said. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing-I take your money and leave you where you want to go. A tradesman can't afford opinions.
Let's get up some steam, eh?"

Amateurishly Peter shoveled coal into the little furnace while the stranger in the black cloak juggled with
steam-valves and levers. "Don't be worried," he advised Peter. "You'll get the hang of things after a
while." He glanced at a watch. "Here we go," he said, yanking the whistle-cord.

The train started off into its tunnel, sliding smoothly and almost silently along, the only noise being from
the driving rods. "Why doesn't it clack against the rails?" asked Peter.

"Levitation. Didn't you notice? We're an inch off the track. Simple, really."

"Then why have a track?" asked Peter.

The stranger smiled and said, "Without-" then stopped abruptly and looked concerned and baffled. And
that was all the answer Peter got.

"Wake up," shouted the stranger nudging Peter. "We're in the war zone!"