If at Faust You Don`t Succeed

MISSPELLED CONJURATIONS

Faust intoned a spell, but nothing happened. The trouble was, he hadn't brought along much in the way of magical ingredients, so great had been his hurry to find the impostor. Still, he had to try. He found a pinch of henbane in the bottom of his pouch, added a sprig of mistletoe he had left over from a midwinter ceremony. What else did he need? Common dirt would have to substitute for graveyard mold. And for mummy powder, he would substitute nose snot.

"That's disgusting," Marguerite said.

"Shut up, it may save your life." All was in readiness. Faust waved his hands and chanted. A glimmer of rosy light appeared in the middle of the pentagram, a fiery dot at first, then it expanded.

"Oh, you did it!" Marguerite cried.

Turning to the growing light, Faust said, "O spirit from the darkest deep, I conjure you in the name of Asmodeus, of Beelzebub, of Belial—" A voice came from the glowing light. It was a young woman's voice, and it said matter-of-factly, "Please stop conjuring. I am not a conjurable spirit."

"You're not?" Faust asked. "Then who or what are you?"

"I am a representative of the Infernal Communication Service. We cannot accept your conjuration in its present form. Please check your spell and if you think you have it wrong, please conjure again. Thank you. Have a nice day." The voice stopped and the rosy light dwindled and disappeared… ACKNOWLEDGMENT We would like to thank all those who suggested titles for this book—Willie Siros, Scott A. Cupp, Kathi Kimbriel, Jane Lindskold, Walter Jon Williams, and Thorarinn Gunnarson. And yes, A Faustful of Talers did have a certain ring to it.