-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 4/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
’
He
’
s
clean
about
the
house
.
Doesn
’
t
eat
much
,
’
said
Lezek
.
’
No
,
I
can
see
that
.
’
Lezek
looked
sideways
at
his
brother
,
who
was
staring
fixedly
at
the
sky
.
’
I
did
hear
you
’
d
got
a
place
going
up
at
your
farm
,
Hamesh
,
’
he
said
.
’
Ah
.
Got
an
apprentice
in
,
didn
’
t
I
?
’
’
Ah
,
’
said
Lezek
gloomily
,
’
when
was
that
,
then
?
’
’
Yesterday
,
’
said
his
brother
,
lying
with
rattlesnake
speed
.
’
All
signed
and
sealed
.
Sorry
.
Look
,
I
got
nothing
against
young
Mort
,
see
,
he
’
s
as
nice
a
boy
as
you
could
wish
to
meet
,
it
’
s
just
that
—
’
’
I
know
,
I
know
,
’
said
Lezek
.
’
He
couldn
’
t
find
his
arse
with
both
hands
.
’
They
stared
at
the
distant
figure
.
It
had
fallen
over
.
Some
pigeons
had
waddled
over
to
inspect
it
.
’
He
’
s
not
stupid
,
mind
,
’
said
Hamesh
.
’
Not
what
you
’
d
call
stupid
.
’
