A Logical Magician by Robert Weinberg

Author:Robert Weinberg
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 1994-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

21

“Well, doctor,” asked Roger, his voice quivering, “is it cancer? Tell me the truth.”

The physician shook his head. “As far as I can determine, Mr. Quinn, the marks on your elbow are a curious skin blemish and nothing more. I label them curious because of their uncanny resemblance to a man’s fingerprints. In all my years in medicine, I’ve never seen their like. If you’re truly concerned, we can run further tests. But, except for the discoloration, I can’t find a thing wrong.”

Roger stood up and put on his shirt. He shook his head. “That will be enough for the moment. Maybe I’ll return in a few days. My… uncle… is in town and requires constant attention. He dislikes my leaving him for any length of time. Fortunately, I needed to buy some sacrifices—I mean groceries—this afternoon, enabling me to escape for a few hours. If I don’t return soon, he’ll start to worry. And I definitely do not want him to grow disturbed.”

The doctor frowned. “Your uncle sounds like a tyrant. Why do you tolerate such behavior?”

“Relatives,” said Roger, suppressing a scream. “It’s an old story. Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them.”

“Oh,” said the physician. “I understand. Money problems? Well, if anything happens to those marks, give me a call. Otherwise, forget them. They’re harmless.”

Driving back to his mansion, Roger fought back tears of rage. He should have known better. Even modern medical science was helpless before ancient sorcery. The Lord of the Lions held him in an unbreakable grip. It was not a comforting thought.

The demigod met him at the door. “You obtained the fowls?” it asked, sounding anxious.

“Of course,” said Roger. “The cage is in the back seat. Give me a few minutes and I’ll haul it to the basement.”

“Good,” said the Crouching One, “very good. I will reward you handsomely for your devotion, my faithful servant. When I rule your world, this state of California will be your plaything. For I am a generous God.”

Roger bowed, not believing a word the demigod said. Talk was cheap, even among immortals. While the Lord of the Lions needed neither food nor drink, it required living sacrifices every few days to maintain its energy levels. After experimenting with various small animals, they discovered that chickens worked best.

Every three days, Roger traveled to a farm outside the city and bought several chickens. The owner eyed him curiously each trip, but with satanic cults, food fetishes, and oddball pet owners thriving in California, Roger’s money spoke louder than any suspicions.

“Von Bern called while you were out,” said the Crouching One. “I spoke to him at length.”

After numerous demonstrations, the demigod had finally learned how to use a telephone. Roger grimaced, remembering the trouble he had had explaining the instrument to the ancient being. The Lion God believed all technology to be modern magic. For the sake of his sanity, Roger agreed.

“Well, what did the German have to report?” Roger asked, hoping for the worst. Von Bern was evil to the core, but he was an incompetent clod.

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