"Jonathan Stroud - Bartimaeus 2 - The Golem's Eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stroud Jonathan)

mechanisms, and the lowering battlements at the crest of the tower bristled with watchful sentries.

That at least was the idea.

To the tower I flew, hawk-headed, leather-winged, hidden behind my shroud of wisps. I
alighted barefoot, without a sound, on a prominent crest of stone. I waited for the swift, sharp
challenge, the vigorous display of instant readiness.

Nothing happened. I dropped my Concealment and waited for some moderate, belated
evidence of alertness. I coughed loudly. Still no joy.

A glimmering Shield protected part of the battlements, and behind this crouched five sentries. [3]
The Shield was a narrow affair, designed for one human soldier or three djinn at most. As such, there
was a good deal of fidgeting going on.

[3] Each sentry was a minor djinni, scarcely better than a common foliot. Times were hard in Prague; the
magicians were strapped for slaves and quality control was not what it should have been. The chosen semblances
of my sentries proved as much. Instead of fearsome, warlike guises, I was presented with two shifty vampire bats, a
weasel, a pop-eyed lizard, and a small and rather mournful frog.

"Will you stop pushing?"

"Ow! Mind those claws, you idiot!"

"Just shove over. I tell you, my backside's in plain view now. They might spot it."

"That could win us the battle on its own."

"Keep that wing under control! You nearly had my eye out."

"Change into something smaller, then. I suggest a nematode worm."

"If you elbow me one more time..."

"It's not my fault. It's that Bartimaeus who put us here. He's such a pompтАФ"

It was a painful display of laxity and incompetence, in short, and I refrain from recording it in full.
The hawk-headed warrior folded its wings, stepped forward, and roused the sentries' attention by
banging their heads together smartly.[4]

[4] Five heads knocking into one another in quick succession. It was like an unusual executive toy.
 "And what kind of sentry duty do you call this?" I snapped. I was in no mood to mess about
here; six months of continual service had worn my essence thin. "Cowering behind a Shield, bickering
like fishwives... I ordered you to keep watch."

Amid the pathetic mumbling and shuffling and staring at feet that followed, the frog put up its
hand.

"Please, Mr. Bartimaeus, sir," it said, "what's the good of watching? The British are
everywhereтАФsky and land. And we've heard they've got a whole cohort of afrits down there. Is that