"I am Peter Westfall," Westfall said. "I have conjured you by the power of this talisman." Westfall held it up.

The bearded gentleman said, "You conjured me? What are you talking about? Let me see that!" He looked closely at the talisman. "Originally Egyptian, but familiar somehow. Unless I miss my guess this is one of the original series with which King Solomon bound a larger collection of spirits back quite some time ago. I thought all of these had been retired. Where did you get this?"

"Never mind," Westfall said. "I have it. That's the important thing, and you must obey me."

"I must, must I? We'll just see about that!" The man suddenly doubled in size and moved threateningly toward Westfall. Westfall seized the talisman and squeezed it; Hermes let out a shriek and stepped back.

"Take it easy!" he said. "You don't have to get rough."

"This charm gives me power over you!"

"Oh, I suppose it does," the other responded. "But damn it, this is ridiculous! I'm a former Greek god and a supreme magician — Hermes Trismegistus, by name."

"Well, you've come a cropper this time, Hermes," Westfall said.

"That seems to be the case," Hermes said. "Who are you? Not a magician, that I'm sure of." He looked around. "And no king, because this is certainly no palace. You're some sort of commoner, aren't you?"

"I am a grain merchant," Westfall said.

"And how did you come by this amulet?"

"None of your business."

"Probably found it in your granny's attic!"

"It doesn't matter where I got it!" Westfall's fist tightened convulsively over the amulet.

"Take it easy!" Hermes said, wincing. "All right, that's better." Hermes took a deep breath and performed a small incantation to calm himself down. This was no time for rage, no matter how justified. This stupid mortal did indeed have power over him because of this ancient amulet. How had he gotten it? The fellow must have stolen it, because he obviously knew little or nothing about the Art.