-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 253/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
High
Priest
at
the
Temple
of
Blind
Io
was
going
to
be
a
problem
.
Cutwell
had
marked
him
down
as
a
dear
old
soul
whose
expertise
with
the
knife
was
so
unreliable
that
half
of
the
sacrifices
got
tired
of
waiting
and
wandered
away
.
The
last
time
he
’
d
tried
to
sacrifice
a
goat
it
had
time
to
give
birth
to
twins
before
he
could
focus
,
and
then
the
courage
of
motherhood
had
resulted
in
it
chasing
the
entire
priesthood
out
of
the
temple
.
The
chances
of
him
succeeding
in
putting
the
crown
on
the
right
person
even
in
normal
circumstances
were
only
average
,
Cutwell
had
calculated
;
he
’
d
have
to
stand
alongside
the
old
boy
and
try
tactfully
to
guide
his
shaking
hands
.
Still
,
even
that
wasn
’
t
the
big
problem
.
The
big
problem
was
much
bigger
than
that
.
The
big
problem
had
been
sprung
on
him
by
the
Chancellor
after
breakfast
.
’
Fireworks
?
’
Cutwell
had
said
.
’
That
’
s
the
sort
of
thing
you
wizard
fellows
are
supposed
to
be
good
at
,
isn
’
t
it
?
’
said
the
Chancellor
,
as
crusty
as
a
week
-
old
loaf
.
’
Flashes
and
bangs
and
whatnot
.
I
remember
a
wizard
when
I
was
a
lad
—
’
’
I
’
m
afraid
I
don
’
t
know
anything
about
fireworks
,
’
said
Cutwell
,
in
tones
designed
to
convey
that
he
cherished
this
ignorance
.
’
Lots
of
rockets
,
’
the
Chancellor
reminisced
happily
.
’
Ankhian
candles
.
Thunderflashes
.
And
thingies
that
you
can
hold
in
your
hand
.
It
’
s
not
a
proper
coronation
without
fireworks
.
’
Yes
,
but
,
you
see
—
’
’
Good
man
,
’
said
the
Chancellor
briskly
,
’
knew
we
could
rely
on
you
.
Plenty
of
rockets
,
you
understand
,
and
to
finish
with
there
must
be
a
set
-
piece
,
mind
you
,
something
really
breathtaking
like
a
portrait
of
–
of
—
’
his
eyes
glazed
over
in
a
way
that
was
becoming
depressingly
familiar
to
Cut
-
well
.
’
The
Princess
Keli
,
’
he
said
wearily
.
