er on little trips. It wasn't hard to find some
superstitious dolt trying to summon something, since word had got
around in your world. One of us would pop up, and that spread the word
further. Anyhow, when Apalon was sure each member had made enough
trips to be conditioned, he'd tell him the sad truth, and swear him to
secrecy on penalty of being laughed out of the Institute. The old
blaggard wound up with all of us conditioned. There was quite a flurry
of witchcraft here, until we finally found a psychiatrist who could
break the habit for us. Even then, it was tough going. We'd never have
made it without the inquisitions and witch-burnings one of our
experimental sociologists managed to stir up."

Alfear put out the third cigarette butt and stood up slowly. "Look, I
don't mind a chat now and then, but my wives are waiting dinner. How
about dismissing me?"

"Umm." Henry had been thinking while he listened. It had sounded like
a reasonable explanation on the whole, except for the bit about
Apalon's disintegrating the witch. Apparently as long as a man wasn't
too unreasonable, there was a certain usefulness to having such
friends on call. "What about the price for your help? I mean--well,
about souls...."

Alfear twitched his ears disgustedly. "What the deuce would I do with
your soul, Henry? Eat it? Wear it? Don't be a shnook!"

"Well, then--well, I've heard about wishes that were granted, but they
all had a trick attached. If I asked for immortality, you'd give it,
say; but then I'd get some horrible disease and beg and plead for
death. Or ask for money, and then find the money was recorded as being
paid to a kidnapper, or something."

"In the first place, I couldn't give you immortality," Alfear said, as
patiently as he apparently could. "Your metabolism's not like ours. In
the second place, why should I look for tainted money? It's enough
nuisance doing what you ask, without looking for tricks to pull.
Anyhow, I told you I half-enjoy visiting here. As long as you're
reasonable about it, I don't mind keeping my end of the compulsion
going. If you've got something to ask, ask away. There are no strings
attached."

The creature seemed to be quite sincere. Henry considered it briefly,
staring at a large tinted picture of Emma, and took the plunge.
"Suppose I asked you to kill my wife for me--say by what looked like a
stroke, so nobody would blame me?"

"That seems reasonable enough," Alfear agreed easily. "I cou