"Zelazny, Roger - Amber Short Stories 04 - Coming To A Cord" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

job.

Now I got a glimpse of the thing. It was big, and wormlike, eyeless, but
possessed of a shark-like mouth, a multitude of short legs, and vestigial wings.
It was twice again the length of a human, and black, having crisscrossing red
and yellow stripes. It slithered across our reflected room, rearing as it came
on.

"You imply," Flora said, "in your quest for a hero, that it will make it
through that interface and attack us?"

"In a word," said the strange little man, "yes."

_When it does,_ I said to Flora, _throw me at it. Wherever I hit
I'll stick--and I'll go for the throat._

"All right," she said, "and there's one other thing."

_What's that?_, I asked.

"Help! Help!" she cried.

It began crawling out through the silver, flower-bordered mirror. Flora
unwound me from her ankle and threw me at the thing. It had no real neck, but I
wrapped myself about its upper extremity below the mouth and began tightening
immediately.

Flora continued to call out, and from somewhere up the hall I heard the
sound of heavy footfalls.

I tightened my grip, but the creature's neck was like rubber.

The sorcerer was moving to exit the room when the door burst open and the
tall and husky, red-haired form of Luke entered.

"Flora!" he said, and then he saw the guisel and drew his blade.

On my recent journey with Merlin in the space between shadows I had gained
the ability to converse at complex levels. My perceptions--which seem quite
different--also became more acute. They showed me nothing special about Luke,
the sorcerer, or the guisel, but Werewindle now burned of an entirely different
light. I realized then that it was not merely a blade.

As Luke moved to position himself between Flora and the guisel, I heard the
sorcerer say, "What is that blade?"

"'Tis called Werewindle," Luke replied.

"And you are...?"