"Robert Weinberg - Logical Magician 01 - A Logical Magician" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinberg Robert)

Jack.
"You got it, Jack," said Simon. "It's my duty to get on everyone's nerves. I'm here
to shake things up a little bit on campus. People need an obnoxious,
'too-damned-smart-for-his-own-good' character to despise. It's healthy for the soul. Or
so I've been told, since I don't have one."
"What about your popularity with the fair sex?" asked Jack. "I don't remember that
being covered in any stories about changelings I read."
"Titania and Oberon aren't the only ones with lust in their hearts, Jack," said
Simon, his grin widening. "I can't help it if you humans created me with a surplus of
roguish charm. And a wild streak that prompts me to use it whenever possible."
The changeling paused, the smile disappearing from his face. "I've answered all
your questions. Each and every one. It seems only fair to me that you do the same."
Simon shook his head. "Rose-colored contacts and Merlin the Magician? The
implications of that combination worry me. Actually, they scare the hell out of me. What's
going on, Jack?"
Jack told him.

8

H
" and me another beer, would you?" asked Simon a half-hour later. The changeling
gulped down the contents of the bottle with one swallow. It was his fifth, and as far as
Jack could tell, the beer had not affected the supernatural being in the least. Jack
suspected it would take a tremendous amount of alcohol to dent Simon's inhuman
metabolism. A lot more than he had in his refrigerator.
With a loud burp, the changeling handed Jack back the empty bottle. After Jack's
summary of the day's events, they had retired to his nearby apartment to puzzle out the
complexities of the situation. Simon looked ready to cry. Or burrow under the cushions of
the sofa and hide.
Jack's apartment consisted of a parlor, tiny dining room and kitchenette
combination, and a bedroom. A short, narrow corridor linked the rooms. Right in its
middle was the door leading to the building hallway. At present, man and changeling sat
on a battered old blue sofa situated in the center of the living room.
"You want to explain to me why you're trying to drink yourself into a stupor?"
asked Jack. "Things can't be that bad."
"They can't?" retorted Simon. Rising to his feet, he stalked over to the icebox and
retrieved another beer. Hooking the cap between his teeth, he twisted his jaw sharply,
pulling the metal cleanly off the glass. "Wanna bet?"
"Would you care to be more specific?" said Jack, opening his bottle of beer with an
opener. He had a feeling that he was going to need a drink. Probably several. "I'm not
very good at reading minds."
Simon shrugged his shoulders. "Don't take this the wrong way. Jack. You're a nice
guy and a really good math teacher. Unfortunately, neither of those traits strike me as
qualifications for a champion of humanity. No offense, but you're not the hero type. I
mean, I knew St. George, Professor Collins, and you're no St. George. His accountant
maybe, but no dragon slayer. You catch my drift?"
"But Merlin said I was the only one who could save the world," said Jack
defensively. "Right before he was kidnapped he told me that straight out."
"Then," said Simon somberly, draining his beer bottle and handing it to Jack, "the
world is in deep, deep trouble. Assuming of course that the old geezer hasn't lost a few