"Roger Zelazny - The Doors of His Face The Lamps of His Mouth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

I agreed.

"...Not much of a brain box, though, for his bulk."

"Smart enough to stay out of our locker."

Chuckles, because nothing exists but this room, really. The world
outside is an empty, sleet drummed deck. We lean back and make clouds.

"Boss lady does not approve of unauthorized fly fishing."

"Boss lady can walk north till her hat floats."

"What did she say in there?"

"She told me that my place, with fish manure, is on the bottom."

"You don't Slide?"

"I bait."

"We'll see."

"That's all I do. If she wants a Slideman she's going to have to ask
nicely."

"You think she'll have to?"

"I think she'll have to."

"And if she does, can you do it?"

"A fair question," I puffed. "I don't know the answer, though."

I'd incorporate my soul and trade forty percent of the stock for the
answer. I'd give a couple years off my life for the answer. But there


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doesn't seem to be a lineup of supernatural takers, because no one knows.
Supposing when we get out there, luck being with us, we find ourselves an
Ikky? Supposing we succeed in baiting him and get lines on him. What then?
If we get him shipside, will she hold on or crack up? What if she's made of
sterner stuff than Davits, who used to hunt sharks with poison-darted air
pistols? Supposing she lands him and Davits has to stand there like a video
extra.

Worse yet, supposing she asks for Davits and he still stands there like