-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 336/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Mort
nodded
.
As
they
followed
Death
’
s
dark
shape
he
reflected
on
an
endless
future
,
serving
whatever
mysterious
purpose
the
Creator
had
in
mind
,
living
outside
Time
.
He
couldn
’
t
blame
Death
for
wanting
to
quit
the
job
.
Death
had
said
the
bones
were
not
compulsory
,
but
perhaps
that
wouldn
’
t
matter
.
Would
eternity
feel
like
a
long
time
,
or
were
all
lives
–
from
a
personal
viewpoint
–
entirely
the
same
length
?
Hi
,
said
a
voice
in
his
head
.
Remember
me
?
I
’
m
you
.
I
got
you
into
this
.
’
Thanks
,
’
he
said
bitterly
.
The
others
glanced
at
him
.
You
could
come
through
this
,
the
voice
said
.
You
’
ve
got
a
big
advantage
.
You
’
ve
been
him
,
and
he
’
s
never
been
you
.
Death
swept
through
the
hall
and
into
the
Long
Room
,
the
candles
obediently
flicking
into
flame
as
he
entered
.
ALBERT
.
’
Master
?
’
FETCH
THE
GLASSES
.
’
Master
.
’
Cutwell
grabbed
the
old
man
’
s
arm
.