"Jonathan Stroud - Bartimaeus 3 - Ptolemy's Gate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stroud Jonathan)

adversaries. I have fought with Faquarl of Sparta, with Tlaloc of Tollan, with clever Tchue of the
KalahariтАФour conflicts split the earth, gouged rivers. I survived. Who is my enemy now? A
knock-kneed cyclops in a skirt. When I get out from here, I don't see this new conflict lasting
long."

The cyclops started back, as if stung. "Such cruel threats! You should be ashamed. We are on
the same side, are we not? Doubtless you have good reasons for skulking out the fight under
this restroom. Being polite, I will not trouble to inquire, though I may say that you lack your
normal courtesy."

"Two years' continual service has worn it all away," I said. "I am left irritable and jaded, with a
perpetual itch in my essence that I cannot scratch. And that makes me dangerous, as you will
shortly learn. Now, for the last time, Ascobol, get this off."

Well, there were a few more tuts and pouts, but my posturing had its effect. With a single shrug
of his hairy shoulders, the cyclops levered the lavatory up and off me, sending it clattering away
onto the opposite pavement. A somewhat corrugated girl got unsteadily to her feet.

"At last," I said. "You took your own sweet time about it."

The cyclops plucked a bit of debris from his smock. "Sorry," he said, "but I was too busy winning
the battle to help you out before. Still, all's well. Our master will be pleasedтАФby my efforts,
anyhow." He glanced at me sidelong.

Now that I was vertical I had no intention of squabbling further. I considered the damage to the
houses all around. Not too bad. A few broken roofs, smashed windows . . . The skirmish had
been successfully contained. "A French lot?" I asked.

The cyclops shrugged, which was some feat given that he lacked a neck. "Maybe. Possibly the
Czechs or Spanish. Who can tell? They're all nibbling at us nowadays. Well, time presses, and I
must check on the pursuit. I leave you to nurse your aches and pains, Bartimaeus.Why not try
peppermint tea or a camomile footbath, like other geriatrics? Adieu!"


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 Jonathan Stroud - Bartimaeus 3 - Ptolemy's Gate



The cyclops hitched up his skirts and, with a ponderous spring, launched himself into the air.
Wings appeared on his back; with great plowing strokes he drew away. He had all the grace of a
filing cabinet, but at least he'd got the energy to fly. I hadn't. Not until I'd had a breather,
anyhow.

The dark-haired girl crept across to a broken square of chimney in a nearby garden. Slowly, with
the gasps and gingerly movements of an invalid, she slumped down into a sitting position and
cupped her head in her hands. She closed her eyes.

Just a brief rest. Five minutes would do.