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

The mound of people mumbled and coughed and discussed it among them, as humans, living or dead,
are wont to do about anything. And if Azzie had not had a demon's preternatural hearing, he would not
have heard the faint squeak that came from somewhere deep in the pile.

"Hi there! Scrivener here! Was somebody asking for me?"

Azzie directed his imps to pull Scrivener out of the pile, but gently, without tearing off any of his
appendages. They could be replaced, of course, but the procedure was painful and apt to leave a
psychic scar. Azzie knew he was supposed to bring the man back to Earth intact so that Scrivener
wouldn't create trouble for the Dark Forces for reaping him prematurely.

Soon enough Scrivener scrambled out of the pile, brushing himself off. He was a small, balding, jaunty
little man.

"I'm Scrivener!" he cried. "You found out it was a mistake, eh? I told them I wasn't dead when they first
brought me here. That Grim Reaper of yours doesn't do much listening, does he? Just keeps grinning that
great big idiotic grin. Plucked me away just like that. I've a good mind to complain to someone in
authority."

"Listen to me," Azzie said. "You're lucky the mistake was found at all. If you begin litigation, they'll put
you in a holding tank until your case can be heard. That could take a century or two. Do you know what
our holding tanks are like?"

Scrivener shook his head, wide-eyed.

"They're so bad," Azzie said, "that they even contravene infernal law."

Scrivener seemed impressed. "I guess I'm lucky to be get-ting out at all. Thanks for the tip. Are you a
lawyer?"

"Not by training," Azzie said. "But all of us down here have a little lawyer in us. Come on, let's get you
back home."

"I've a feeling I have a few problems at home," Scrivener said hesitantly.

"That's what life is," Azzie continued. "Problems. Be glad you have problems to worry about. When you
come down here to stay, you'll have nothing to worry about. Whatever's hap-pening to you just goes on
and on."

"I won't be back," Scrivener said.

Azzie wanted to ask him if he wanted to bet on it, but decided that it wouldn't be appropriate under the
circum-stances.

"We'll have to wipe your memory of this experience," he told Scrivener. 'You understand we can't have
you fellows going back to Earth and telling a lot of stories."

"Fine with me," Scrivener said. "Nothing here I want to remember, anyhow. Although earlier, in
Purgatory, I met this blond succubus - "