The Universe Twister Read Online Free PDF

steps," Lafayette warned. "Now tell me, how does it feel to start existing all of a sudden, just because I dreamed you—"
    "I can tear duh head off a alligator," Red declaimed. "I can rip duh hind leg off a elephant . . ." As the redhead rambled on, Lafayette concentrated. Red's voice rose higher, from bass to baritone, through tenor to a high contralto. " . . . handle any ten guys at oncet," he shrilled, "wit' bot' hands tied behind me . . ."
    Lafayette made a final effort, listened for the result:
    " . . . I'm thimply a brute, when arouthed," Red squeaked. "Thomentimeth I jutht get tho mad I could thpit!" He broke off, an amazed look settling over his meaty features. "Thpit?" he chirped.
    "Now, Red, drink your wine and pay attention," Lafayette said severely. "You're port of an impartent experiment. I mean you're pent of an apartment—you're portable part of—apart of port—an appointment of pit—ah, the hell with it!" He picked up his wine mug.
    Then door burst open. A tall man with long curls slammed into view, gorgeously arrayed in a floppy hat with feathers, a purple and blue striped jacket, a wide sash, baggy pants above sloppily rolled boots. He whipped out a slender epée and advanced on the lone occupied table. Another ornately outfitted swordsman crowded in behind him, and a third, and a fourth. They spread out and ringed the table, blades at the ready.
    "Hi, fellas." Lafayette waved his heavy glass. "How about a little snort?"
    "In the King's name," the leading dandy roared. "You're under arrest! Will you come along quietly, or have we got to run you through?" A fierce black mustache curled up on each side of his face like a steer's horns.
    O'Leary eyed the nearest sword point, six inches from his throat. Rolling his eyes sideways, he could see two more blades poised, aimed at his heart. Across from him, the Red Bull gaped, his mouth hanging open.
    "You, there!" the mustached officer bellowed, eyeing the redhead. "Who're you?"
    "Me, offither?" the big man chirped. "Why, I wath jutht thitting here, thipping my therry and waiting for my thupper."
    The cop blinked, then guffawed. "The bum looks enough like the Red Bull to be his twin."
    "Beat it, you," another ordered. The redhead scrambled from his place and hurried unsteadily to the door. Lafayette caught a glimpse of faces peering in as it opened. The mob was still noisy outside.
    "All right, on your feet," the man on his left commanded. O'Leary smiled negligently at the man, focusing his attention on the swords. Salamis , he thought. Swords into salamis, kazam !
    A sharp point prodded his side; he jumped. The bright steel blade was set against his ribs, just above the kidney. "Salami!" O'Leary commanded aloud. "Turn into a salami, damn it!"
    The blade—still stubbornly steel—poked harder. "No spells now, or you won't make it to a cell!"
    "Hey!" Lafayette yelled. "Careful! You'll break the skin!"
    "Look, Mac, have I got to slit your weasand to convince you this is a pinch? We're musketeers of the city guard, see? We're putting the sneeze on for disturbing the peace!"
    "You mean about the wine bottle," O'Leary said. "I can explain—"
    "Tell it to the executioner," a three-striper snarled. "On your feet, bub!"
    Lafayette got up. "This is ridiculous," he started.
    A hard hand gripped his arm and propelled him doorward. He shook it off, grabbed his hat from the table and settled it over his eyes. No need to get excited, he reminded himself. The salami gambit hadn't worked, but that was because he hadn't had time to concentrate properly and get his Psychic Energies attuned—besides which, he had already discovered it was tricky trying to change anything in plain view. He was a little woozy from the wine, but as soon as he had a quiet moment, he would handle these fellows . . .
    He stumbled through the door, out into the frosty night air. A rank of frightened faces gaped at him. Fists shook. A vegetable came flying and bounced off his