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

The pig-snouted medical demon reached out and touched a spot on Scrivener's forehead. Scrivener
stopped talking and his eyes went unfocused.

"What did you do?" Azzie asked.

"Put him on idle," the medical demon said. "Now it's time to ship him."

Azzie hoped Scrivener would be all right: it's never good news when a demon messes with your head.

"How do you know where to send him?" Azzie asked.

The medical demon opened Scrivener's shirt and showed Azzie the name and address tattooed on his
chest in purple ink.

"It's the devil's identification mark," the medical demon said.

"You'll take that off before you send him back?"

"Don't worry, he can't see it. That's forus to read. You going along with him?"

"I'll get there on my own," Azzie said. "Let me just see that address again. Okay, I got it.

"See you later, Tom," he said to the blank-eyed man.



Chapter 3
 And so Thomas Scrivener was returned to his home. Luckily the medical demon had been able to get
him back before irreparable damage had been done to his body. The doctor who had bought it had been
about to start an incision in the neck to trace out the arterial system for his students. Before he could
begin, Scrivener opened his eyes. "Good morning, Dr. Moreau," he said, and then fainted.

Moreau proclaimed him alive and demanded a refund from his widow.

She paid it grudgingly. Her marriage to Scrivener hadn't been particularly successful.

Azzie had traveled to Earth by his own means, not wanting to go with Scrivener in the Vehicle of the
Undead, whose rotting smells were a trial even for supernatural beings. He arrived just after Scrivener's
resuscitation. No one could see him since he wore the Amulet of Invisibility.

Invisibly, except to those with the second sight, Azzie followed the procession that carried Scrivener
back to his home. The good people of the village, rustics all, proclaimed it a mir-acle. But Scrivener's
wife, Milaud, kept on muttering, "I knew he was faking it, the wretch!"

Shielded by his invisibility, Azzie drifted around Scrivener's house, where he would live until Scrivener
was past the claims period. Probably a matter of a few days. It was a fair-sized house, several rooms on
each floor, and a nice dank base-ment.