“Disinfectant? You give me disinfectant to drink?”
Horst’s surprise was replaced with mild amusement. “It’s root beer, Johannes. Have you never had root beer?”
Cabal looked suspiciously at him, then at the bottle. “People drink this?”
“Yes.”
“For non-medicinal reasons?”
“That’s right.” (с) from "Johannes Cabal the Necromancer"

Ширканая же вещь!
Гуглите - и будет вам!
Это книженция почему-то прямо ассоциируется у Ауш с [J]Knightmare[/J]. Аж удивительно.

Еще цитаты“How did you know that?” he asked quickly.
“I’m a necromancer. You’d be surprised at the sources we dig up.”

“Lo!” cried the demon. “I am here! What dost thou seek of me? Why dost thou disturb my repose? Smite me no more with that dread rod!” He looked at Cabal. “Where’s your dread rod?”
“I left it at home,” replied Cabal. “Didn’t think I really needed it.”
“You can’t summon me without a dread rod!” said Lucifuge, appalled.
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but under false pretences. You haven’t got a goatskin or two vervain crowns or two candles of virgin wax made by a virgin girl and duly blessed. Have you got the stone called Ematille?”
“I don’t even know what Ematille is.”
Neither did the demon. He dropped the subject and moved on. “Four nails from the coffin of a dead child?”
“Don’t be fatuous.”
“Half a bottle of brandy?”
“I don’t drink brandy.”
“It’s not for you.”
“I have a hip flask,” said Cabal, and threw it to him. The demon caught it and took a dram.
“Cheers,” said Lucifuge, and threw it back. They regarded each other for a long moment. “This really is a shambles,” the demon added finally. “What did you summon me for, anyway?”

“Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
“I don’t like you anyway, so it makes few odds.