-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 298/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
THE
PRIESTS
GIVE
THEM
POISON
.
There
was
another
groan
,
from
the
other
side
of
the
cluttered
room
.
Mort
followed
it
to
its
source
,
stepping
awkwardly
over
rolls
of
carpet
,
bunches
of
dates
,
crates
of
crockery
and
piles
of
gems
.
The
long
obviously
hadn
’
t
been
able
to
decide
what
he
was
going
to
leave
behind
on
his
journey
,
so
had
decided
to
play
safe
and
take
everything
.
ONLY
IT
DOESNT
ALWAYS
WORK
QUICKLY
,
Mort
added
sombrely
.
Ysabell
clambered
gamely
after
him
,
and
peered
over
a
canoe
at
a
young
girl
sprawled
across
a
pile
of
rugs
.
She
was
wearing
gauze
trousers
,
a
waistcoat
cut
from
not
enough
material
,
and
enough
bangles
to
moor
a
decent
-
sized
ship
.
There
was
a
green
stain
around
her
mouth
.
’
Does
it
hurt
?
’
said
Ysabell
quietly
.
No
.
THEY
THINK
IT
TAKES
THEM
TO
PARADISE
.
’
Does
it
?
’
MAYBE
.
WHO
KNOWS
?
Mort
took
the
hourglass
out
of
an
inner
pocket
and
inspected
it
by
the
gleam
of
the
sword
.
He
seemed
to
be
counting
to
himself
,
and
then
with
a
sudden
movement
tossed
the
glass
over
his
shoulder
and
brought
the
sword
down
with
his
other
hand
.
The
girl
’
s
shade
sat
up
and
stretched
,
with
a
clink
of
ghostly
jewellery
.
She
caught
sight
of
Mort
,
and
bowed
her
head
.
