-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 282/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
eyes
of
the
court
followed
the
wretched
organ
on
its
third
flight
across
the
mat
,
but
the
Emperor
snatched
up
his
fan
and
brought
off
a
magnificent
volley
that
ended
back
in
the
Vizier
’
s
bowl
with
such
force
that
it
sent
up
a
spray
of
seaweed
.
’
Somebody
eat
it
,
for
heaven
’
s
sake
,
’
shouted
Mort
,
totally
unheard
.
’
I
’
m
in
a
hurry
!
’
Thou
art
indeed
the
most
thoughtful
of
servants
,
0
Devoted
and
Indeed
Only
Companion
of
My
Late
Father
and
Grandfather
When
They
Passed
Over
,
and
therefore
I
decree
that
your
reward
shall
be
this
most
rare
and
exquisite
of
morsels
.
’
The
Vizier
prodded
the
thing
uncertainly
,
and
looked
into
the
Emperor
’
s
smile
.
It
was
bright
and
terrible
.
He
fumbled
for
an
excuse
.
’
Alas
,
it
would
seem
that
I
have
already
eaten
far
too
much
—
’
he
began
,
but
the
Emperor
waved
him
into
silence
.
’
Doubtless
it
requires
a
suitable
seasoning
,
’
he
said
,
and
clapped
his
hands
.
The
wall
behind
him
ripped
from
top
to
bottom
and
four
Heavenly
Guards
stepped
through
,
three
of
them
brandishing
cando
swords
and
the
fourth
trying
hurriedly
to
swallow
a
lighted
dog
-
end
.
The
Vizier
’
s
bowl
dropped
from
his
hands
.
’
My
most
faithful
of
servants
believes
he
has
no
space
left
for
this
final
mouthful
,
’
said
the
Emperor
.
’
Doubtless
you
can
investigate
his
stomach
to
see
if
this
is
true
.
Why
has
that
man
got
smoke
coming
out
of
his
ears
?
’
’
Anxious
for
action
,
O
Sky
Eminence
,
’
said
the
sergeant
quickly
.
’
No
stopping
him
,
I
’
m
afraid
.
’