"David Drake - Birds Of Prey" - читать интересную книгу автора (Drake David)

Gaius into the building. He did not see any practical way of doing that now that he had thrown a wholly
unnecessary scene. The guards might be willing to compromise - Maximus looked both confused and
terrified - but Perennius' own sense of propriety would not permit him to openly proclaim himself an idiot.

"You know," the agent said as he gave his sword and dagger to the younger guard, "there's times that
even I think I've been on the job too long. The only problem is that when I go on leave, I get wound up
even tighter." He grinned and added, "Don't know what the cure is." But he did know, they all knew that
death was the cure for men in whom frustration and violence mounted higher and higher.

"Well, I'll wait out here," Gaius said. He was a good kid, prideful but not ambitious enough for his own
good. It had probably not occurred to him that he was missing the chance of a real career boost. "Or
look, there's a tavern right there - " he thumbed toward the end of the court. "Look me up when you're
done with your interview."

Perennius glanced first at the westering sun, then back to the younger man. Everybody in a cathouse this
close to Headquarters was probably an informer or a spy in addition to their other duties. Gaius was the
friendly sort who tended to be loose-lipped when he had a cup or two in him or was dipping his wick.
Perennius could not imagine that such talk would do any intrinsic harm, but it would get back to the
Bureau for sure and Internal Security would drop on the kid like an obelisk. "Look," the veteran agent
said, "why don't you head straight to the Transient Barracks and make sure they've assigned us decent
accommodations. There's a nice bath attached to the barracks. I'll meet you there, soon as I can - and
there's shops in the bathhouse, better wine than they'll serve around here."

Gaius shrugged. "Sure," he agreed. "I'll catch you there." The glance he cast over his shoulder as he
walked off was from concern over Perennius, not because the older man was manipulating him.

The agent took a deep breath. "Look," he said to Maximus in a calm, even friendly, tone, "if you wear
your body armor, you'll live longer. Whether or not that's a benefit to the Empire sort of depends on
whether you have sense enough to take good advice."

Maximus nodded stiffly, but there was no belief in his eyes - only fear of the result of giving the wrong
answer to a test that he did not begin to understand.

Perennius sighed. He looked at the older guard, the one with the mail shirt and the scar snaking up his
right arm to where the sleeve of his tunic hid it. The infantryman smiled back at the agent, The expression
was forced but perhaps it was the more notable for that. "Quintus Sestius Cotyla," he volunteered. "Third
Centurion of the Fourth Battalion, Palatine Foot."

"Tell him about it," Perennius said with a nod toward the younger guard. "When the shit comes down,
habits'll either save you or get your ass killed. For a soldier, walking around on duty without armor is a
damned bad habit. But blazes, I've got work to do, I guess."
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Sestius nodded. He rapped sharply on the door with a swagger stick. "Pass one," he called through the
triangular communication grate.

"The tribune doesn't object so long as our brightwork's polished," said Maximus unexpectedly. He held