"Esther M. Friesner - Homework" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

Andy's expression went from worshipful to wary in a flash. "Apprentice?" he repeated. "You mean
like with homework?" He pronounced the word with a loathing that grown men usually reserved for tax
collectors.
Prince Gallantine waved away the lad's mistrust, his broken shackles jangling. "Heroes don't do
homework," he said. "And neither do our apprentices. Textbooks are for the forces of evil. We prefer
learning-by-doing."
The boy's face brightened once more. "Yeah? Swell. When do we start?"
Prince Gallantine hunkered down to eye level and tapped the balefully glowing amulet depending
from Andy's neck. It hissed at him. "We start," he said, "by sharing. That's your first lesson as my
apprentice, son: Heroes always share."

Sword in hand, Prince Gallantine strode through the secret passageway linking Andy's quarters with
Lord Morbidius' throne room. After the cumpulsory chipperness of the boy's chambers, the gloom and
reek now surrounding the hero was almost a relief, to say nothing of the spiderwebs and the occasional
human skull or rib cage crunching underfoot. In short, the secret passageway was everything a secret
passageway in a Dread One's stronghold should be. Better still, it was everything Prince Gallantine had
expected it to be. He was not a big fan of surprises.
He smiled grimly as he watched young Andy lead the way through the satisfactorily dark shadows
ahead, the amulet around the boy's neck giving off a sulky scarlet light. Prince Gallantine was pleased: his
new apprentice was working out perfectly. Granted, it was the first time he'd ever heard of a hero taking
on an apprenticeтАФpages, yes; squires, yes; faithful old family retainers, yes; sidekicks, duhтАФbut he was
willing to go with what worked at the moment.
It wasn't as if he was going to be saddled with the kid forever. As soon as he'd used Andy to effect
the utter defeat and preferable destruction of Lord Morbidius, he'd hustle the kid off to the fabulous
dwarven mines of Underpinning-upon-Edgewort. After all, even with Lord Morbidius annihilated, there
would still be several grand battles to be fought until the Dread One's subordinates got the message that
their leader wasn't going to be backing them up anymore. An epic battle for the future of Placidia Felix
and all the Lands Yonder was no place for a child.
Or so he'd tell the child in question.
Prince Gallantine sucked his teeth thoughtfully, extracting the last strings of demon flesh from
between his bicuspids. As a token of his unqualified devotion, Andy had turned the power of his amulet
upon his own pet demonling, roasting it with a single, fiery blast of power from the glowing red jewel so
that his new master might eat and refresh himself before their confrontation with Lord Morbidius. Such
loyalty was a rare thing in this sorry day and age. It was almost a pity to sell the lad into captivity as a
mine worker once they reached Underpinning, but the prince needed the money. (Hiring bards to sing his
praises did not come cheap, and the rapacious rhymsters would insist on being paid by the stanza.)
But it won't be real captivity, he thought, seeking to salve his conscience. It will be a valuable
learning experience for the boy, a welcome respite from all those musty old textbooks Morbidius
had him study, hands-on work, honest manual labor, a top-notch opportunity to get some
much-needed exercise. You can't beat dwarvish mine overseers for giving a body a good workout.
It'll toughen him up wonderfully, get some muscle on him. He grinned as the ultimate comforting
thought struck him: Why, it's not captivity; it's a brand new apprenticeship!
He was still basking in the glow of self-congratulation when they reached the end of the
passageway, a wooden panel set into the stone wall of the stronghold's inner warren. Andy laid one hand
on the planks and turned to Prince Gallantine, his eager young face painted with bloody shadows from
below, cast upward by his amulet.
"'Kay, this is it," he said softly. "Uncle Morby's throne room is on the other side."
"Are you sure he'll be there?" the prince asked. As already noted, he didn't like surprises, and there
was no worse surprise than bursting in upon one's unsuspecting enemy with a loud Die, recreant fiend!
on your lips, only to discover that the recreant fiend in question was nowhere in sight. There was simply