"Charles Stross - Examination Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

Sebastian and Anya arrived: the kernel shattered loudly in the silence. There was a glint of
lofty amusement in his eye as he contemplated the broken shell lying in the palm of his hand.
"I presume that this has been troubling you for some time. In that case, and given your
issuance of due cause, by casting slanders against your lawful master, I hereby notify you
that I can no longer accept your tutelage. However, you have a contract with the University
which remains undischarged: and as dean of the School of Diabolism I feel it wise to see that
all scholars are appropriately supervised by one of suitable skill and puissance. So! My lady,
will you ..?"
Anya stood up. "He's a cowardly oaf. Even if he does know what's going on. Why
would I want him? What's in it for me?" Sebastian stared at her, confused. Something didn't
ring true.
"You would receive my gratitude, and that is a commodity of which it has been said
that I have far too little." Vargas grinned malevolently. "You have a new master, Sebastian de
l'Amoque. I hereby apprentice you, as is my duty and privilege – to Anya of Tigre, mendicant
practitioner of the final arts and agent of the Invigilation – on pain of violation of your contract!
At least until the close of your tenure, at dawn tomorrow. Dare you refuse?"
Sebastian glanced from face to face. "You've got me," he said, flatly. In a voice of
desperation, he added: "but I'm still not going to enact the examination of high jeopardy!"
"You don't have to," said Anya, walking across to him. She rested a hand on his
shoulder and steered him inexorably towards the book-case. "If you survive 'til dawn I think I
will vouch for your graduation regardless. In the meantime – how good are you at tracking
down ex-students?"
"What? Why?" He demanded. "What ex-students?"
Anya paused and looked at Vargas. "Is he really this stupid?" she asked. Vargas
shook his head.
"What do you want me to do?" Sebastian asked tensely.
"Your predecessors," she said. "You know why I want them. Why I started by looking
for you: to ensure first that the Dark Pretender who has so evilly started this program of ritual
sacrifice is not one of the adepts trained by this very college. You know what I want. Go
away, find your predecessor – what was he called? Zevon? And bring him to me."
"At once," added Vargas.
Sebastian nodded. Not trusting his traitor tongue – not a single word – he turned and
left the room. Half way down the stairs he caught at the bannister, discovering to his shame
that his hand was trembling with fury. Damn them! he thought furiously.. Damn the Ministry of
Lost Souls and their catspaw Invigilators! Who would forever hold down honest scholarship in
the name of caution, and seek everywhere for seeds of imaginary evil! But, truth be told, it
was not principally the Invigilator he was most afraid of right now. Anya had told him to bring
Zevon to her: and Sebastian was extremely worried by this. He could well imagine Zevon's
response to being summoned by the Invigilation, and it would not be pleasant. Nevertheless –
he reached the bottom of the stairs and paused, indecisively – the oath she held over him
was too powerful. He would have to at least try. Shaking his head, he walked out into the
road and turned for home: where, probably, Zevon would be already waiting for him. In bed.
 Anya of Tigre poured herself another drink. It was not alcohol she sipped, but an elixir
the formula of which was a tight-held secret of the University. "You don't think he's guilty?"
she asked interestedly.
Vargas shuffled over to his throne and sat down. "No, if you mean is he guilty of
enacting a forbidden ritual. Nevertheless, I would hardly go so far as to say he's innocent." He
spoke with such heavy irony that for a moment Anya thought he was contradicting himself.
"How so?"
"Because I've seen his type before," grumped Vargas. "His predecessor Zevon: now