-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 308/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
’
With
,
say
,
an
exact
likeness
cast
in
gold
.
Suitably
embellished
with
jewels
,
as
befits
our
great
founder
,
’
he
went
on
brightly
.
’
And
to
make
sure
no
students
deface
it
in
any
way
I
suggest
we
then
erect
it
in
the
deepest
cellar
,
’
he
continued
.
’
And
then
lock
the
door
,
’
he
added
.
Several
wizards
began
to
cheer
up
.
’
And
throw
away
the
key
?
’
said
Rincewind
.
’
And
weld
the
door
,
’
the
bursar
said
.
He
had
just
remembered
about
The
Mended
Drum
.
He
thought
for
a
while
and
remembered
about
the
physical
fitness
regime
as
well
.
’
And
then
brick
up
the
doorway
,
’
he
said
.
There
was
a
round
of
applause
.
’
And
throw
away
the
bricklayer
!
’
chortled
Rincewind
,
who
felt
he
was
getting
the
hang
of
this
.
The
bursar
scowled
at
him
.
’
No
need
to
get
carried
away
,
’
he
said
.
In
the
silence
a
larger
than
usual
sand
dune
humped
up
awkwardly
and
then
fell
away
to
reveal
Binky
,
blowing
the
sand
out
of
his
nostrils
and
shaking
his
mane
.
Mort
opened
his
eyes
.