"Roger Zelazny & Robert Sheckley - Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"Don't forget, you promised!" she cried.

Azzie knew he couldn't forget even if he wanted to. Prom-ises made by supernatural creatures to
humans are registered with the Office of Equilibrium, operating under the rule of Ananke. If a demon tried
to forget a promise, the forces of Necessity quickly and painfully reminded him.

Scrivener was all right, eating a bowl of cereal, giving orders to his hired hands and to his wife. Azzie
exited. It was time to get on with his life.



Chapter 4



It was a pleasure for Azzie to be free and able to roam the green earth once again. He had really hated
his stay in the Pit, for its simple-minded repetitiousness as much as anything else-you can get very tired of
the dreary daily round of roasting sinners. Azzie was an energetic demon, enterprising, forward-looking.
He was an agent of evil, and despite a certain air of frivolousness, he took his hellish duties seriously.

After leaving Scrivener's village, the first thing he wanted to do was orient himself. This region was not
familiar to him. Azzie had visited Earth last during Imperial Roman times and had even been present at
one of Caligula's notable feasts. Now, flying low over the land that had been called Gaul, he was guarded
from mishap by his Amulet of Invisibility. The Amulet also conferred a degree of impalpability upon its
wearer, which was just as well when he passed through a large flock of trum-peter swans. As he flew
Azzie noted the forest stretching out on all sides. The village had been but a patch in that great forest that
covered most of Europe and stretched from Scythia to Spain. Azzie found a muddy track running through
it and fol-lowed it at an altitude of about five hundred feet. The track stretched on and on, at last opening
out into a proper paved Roman road. He accompanied a group of horsemen down the road and into a
city of fair size. Later, he learned this was Troyes, a part of the kingdom of the Franks, who were large
barbarians with iron swords who had taken over all of Gaul and much more since the decline of Roman
power.

Azzie flew low and slow over the city, noting the many small houses and, among them, the palaces of
lords and high churchmen. On the outskirts of the town a fair was being held. He flew above its tents and
pennants, attracted to its cheerful bustle. He decided to pay it a visit.

He came to Earth and changed into one of his standard disguises: a kindly, portly man, balding, and with
a twinkling eye. His toga, which came with the disguise, looked out of place, so he purchased a cloak of
homespun at a booth and looked more or less like everyone else.

He strolled along, looking around, still slightly disoriented. There were several permanent structures and
a field scattered with tents. All sorts of things were sold here-weapons, cloth-ing, foodstuffs, livestock,
tools, spices.

"Hi there! You, sir!"

Azzie turned. Yes, the old crone was beckoning to him. She sat in front of a small black tent, cabalistic
figures painted on its sides in gold. She was dark-skinned, and appeared to be an Arab or a Gypsy.