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

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 Jonathan Stroud - Bartimaeus 3 - Ptolemy's Gate

palm fronds. No sight, no noise. A crocodile djinni, standing sentry at the sacred pool, was
undisturbed though they passed within a scale's breadth of his tail. For humans, it wasn't badly
done.

The heat of the day was a memory; the air was chill. Above the palace a cold round moon shone
down, slathering silver across the roofs and courtyards.1

1. This was one of the peculiarities of their sect: they acted only when the moon was full. It made their
tasks more difficult, their challenge greater. And they had never failed. Aside from this, they wore only
black, avoided meat, wine, women, and the playing of wind instruments, and curiously ate no cheese
save that made from the milk of goats bred on their distant desert mountain. Before each job they
fasted for a day, meditated by staring unblinking at the ground, then ate small cakes of hashish and
cumin seed, without water, until their throats glowed yellow. It's a wonder they ever killed anyone.


Away beyond the wall, the great city murmured in the night: wheels on dirt roads, distant
laughter from the pleasure district along the quay, the tide lapping at its stones. Lamplight
shone in windows, embers glowed on roof hearths, and from the top of the tower beside the
harbor gate the great watch fire burned its message out to sea. Its image danced like imp-light
on the waves.

At their posts, the guards played games of chance. In the pillared halls, the servants slept on
beds of rushes. The palace gates were locked by triple bolts, each thicker than a man. No eyes
were turned to the western gardens, where death came calling, secret as a scorpion, on four
pairs of silent feet.

The boy's window was on the first floor of the palace. Four black shadows hunched beneath the
wall. The leader made a signal. One by one they pressed against the stonework; one by one
they began to climb, suspended by their fingertips and the nails of their big toes.2 In this
manner they had scaled marble columns and waterfalls of ice from Massilia to Hadhramaut; the
rough stone blocks were easy for them now. Up they went, like bats upon a cave wall. Moonlight
glinted on bright things gripped between their teeth.

2. All horrid and curved they were, filed sharp like eagles' talons. The assassins took good care of their
feet, because of their importance in their work.They were washed frequently, rubbed with pumice, and
marinated in sesame oil until the skin was soft as eiderdown.


The first' of the assassins reached the window ledge: he sprang tigerlike upon it and peered into
the chamber.

Moonlight spilled across the room; the pallet was lit as if by day. The boy lay sleeping,
motionless as one already dead. His dark hair fell loose upon the cushions, his pale lamb's
throat shone against the silks.