"Zelazny, Roger - Lord Demon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"Yes."
"Tell him that I will be waiting tomorrow night at this time, and at this place's analog on our own plane, and that I will bring a piece of his soul with me, for I demand full satisfaction."
I heard the little demon swallow, then, "Yes, sir," having heard ofЧbut I'm sure never seenЧa duel of this sort.
After freeing him and the other demon, I gently took Ollie down from his tree and turned away.
"Uh, we can do that for you, boss," said the demon with whom I'd held the most converse.
"No. You've touched him enough. You're free. I'm letting you and the other worthless one go. Stay out of my way, and you'll go on living. What's your name, anyhow?''
"Ba Wa," he replied.
"Ba Wa," I repeated. "I will remember you."
To his credit, he did not blanch more than a little.
"I just want to say that I'm sorry, again, though, Lord Demon."
I did not respond, and then he was gone.


TWO


As I entered the bottle, I could hear Shiriki's and Chamballa's great, long, mournful cries. They knew.
I bathed Ollie in his bathroom, dressed him in one of his best suits, and laid a preservation spell upon his entire room. I closed its door as I departed. I ought to make funeral arrangements. He was nominally Christian and might appreciate one of their rites. Perhaps I should try to get something in that area arranged tomorrow, before the duel. Yes, probably.
I located a Christian temple called Holy Cross the next day. I entered there and wandered until I found the man in charge.
"I want to give my friend a Christian burial," I said.
"Well, you've come to the right place. What funeral home is he in?"
"None. I laid him out in his bedroom."
"I see. Traditional. Would you like him buried in our cemetery?''
I nodded.
"Yes. Let's do that."
"As I see it, the only thing that you need is a death certificate."
"What's that?"
"A piece of paper going from the Coroner's Office to the Office of Vital Statistics saying that this man is indeed dead."
"Well, of course he's dead. I wouldn't be here if he weren't dead. How do I get this paper?"
"Go to see the coroner."
"Who is he?"
"I'll draw you aЧ Never mind. I'll drive you over. Uh, about the funeral itself, what were you planning to spend on it?"
"What is customary?"
"Uh, a few thousand."
I had about twenty thousand in large bills in my pocket. I withdrew them and placed them on his desk.
He counted. He seemed for a moment to be choking, before he swept it all away and conveyed it to a wall safe.
"Yes. I'll be glad to help you. We shouldn't have any problems. Your friend will have the best funeral I ever gave."
A bit of very minor hypnosis left the coroner with a much smaller bill on his desk and me with a death certificate in my hand. I'd had him alter a few dates from what I knew them to be.
I passed the certificate to the minister, who asked whether I needed any help with the body. I told him no, I'd bring it over myself later.

The following evening, I arrived at the proper time and place bearing Tuvoon's spirit sword. To have a spirit sword created for you is something of a backhanded compliment. It means that demonkind views you as dangerous enough to have one of these special weapons forged against you. I bet that TuvoonЧlike meЧcould have lived without the compliment, but I wasn't thinking about the pain a spirit sword causes. I was engulfed in fury.
Tuvoon and his motherЧViss of the Terrible TongueЧ were waiting in the park. Viss wore the appearance of a plump Chinese woman of middle years, but her skin was brick red and her eyes were unreadable.
Tuvoon the Smoke Ghost was a more spectacular sight. Like some others of our kind, he is only partially substantial, no matter upon which plane he dwells. Today he was solid from the waist up, to all appearances a handsome Oriental youth of pleasing mien. From the waist down, he seemed to be made of gray-and-white smoke. Where his bare feet should have been, there was nothing.
I laid my burden on the ground at the feet of Viss (for she had been my teacher), stepped back three paces, and kowtowed.
She stooped, raised Tuvoon's bane. From above, I heard her say, "Seven Fingers's blades have not lost their cunning."
"True."
"Excuse me for staring, but it is not often one holds one's son's life."
Seven Fingers had been our master swordmaker, but even he feared Viss, who had been teacher to many of our kind. It was rumored that Viss had tutored a god or two along the way. She'd been my teacher; also, Tuvoon's.
"You know, of course," she said, "that if you kill my son, you will die in the next instant."
"Unfortunately, yes," I said.