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

"What's a blast-finger?" demanded the engineer.

"Just so you won't try anything," she commented. "Watch." Her body solidified then, and she pointed her
left index finger at a middling-sized tree. Peter hardly saw what happened, being more interested in the
incidental miracle of her face and figure. But his attention was distracted by a flat crash of thunder and
sudden glare. And the tree was riven as if by a terrific stroke of lightning. Peter smelled ozone as he
looked from the tree to the girl's finger and back again. "Okay," he said.

"No nonsense?" she asked. "Come on."

They passed between two trees, and the vista of forest shimmered and tore, revealing a sort of
palace-all white stone and maple timbers. "That's my place," said the girl.

II

"Now," she said, settling herself into a cane-backed chair. Peter looked about the room. It was furnished
comfortably with pieces of antique merit, in the best New England tradition. His gaze shifted to the girl,
slender and palely luminous, with a half-smile playing about her chisled features.

"Do you mind," he said slowly, "not interrupting until I'm finished with what I have to say?"

"A message from Almarish? Go on."

And at that he completely lost his temper. "Listen, you snip!" he raged. "I don't know who you are or
where I am but I'd like to tell you that this mystery isn't funny or even mysterious-just downright rude. Do
you get that? Now-my name is Peter Packer. I live in Braintree, Mass. I make my living as a consulting
engineer. This place obviously isn't Braintree, Mass. Right? Then where is it?"

"Ellil," said the girl simply.
"I saw that on a sign," said Packer. "It still doesn't mean anything to me. Where is Ellil?"

Her face became suddenly grave. "You may be telling the truth," she said thoughtfully. "I do not know
yet. Will you allow me to test you?"

"Why should I?"

"Remember my blast-finger?"

Packer winced. "Yes," he said. "What are the tests?"

"The usual," she smiled. "Rosemary and garlic, crucifixes and the secret name of Jehovah. If you get
through those you're okay."

"Then get on with it," he said, confusedly.

"Hold these." She passed him a flowery sprig and a clove of garlic. He took them, one in each hand. "All
right?" he asked.

"On those, yes. Now take the cross and read this name. You can put the vegetables down now."