"Terry Pratchett. A Hat Full Of Sky " - читать интересную книгу автора

knows what hell do with those words? Ye might as weel nail a mans shadow tae
the wall!
But now they had a new kelda, and a new kelda brings new ideas. Thats
how its supposed to work. It stopped a clan getting too set in its ways.
Kelda Jeannie was from the Long Lake clan, up in the mountains - and they
did write things down.
She didnt see why her husband shouldnt, either. And Rob Anybody was
finding out that Jeannie was definitely a kelda.
Sweat was dripping off his forehead. Hed once fought a wolf all by
himself, and hed cheerfully do it again with his eyes shut and one hand tied
behind him rather than do what he was doing now.
He had mastered the first two rules of writing, as he understood them.
1) Steal some paper.
2) Steal a pencil.
Unfortunately there was more to it than that.
Now he held the stump of pencil in front of him in both hands, and
leaned backwards as two of his brothers pushed him towards the piece of
paper pinned up on the chamber wall (it was an old bill for sheep bells,
stolen from the farm). The rest of the clan watched, in fascinated horror,
from the galleries around the walls.
Mebbe I could kind o ease my way inta it gently, he protested as his
heels left little grooves in the packed-earth floor of the mound. Mebbe I
could just do one o they commeras or full stoppies-
Youre the Big Man, Rob Anybody, so its fittin ye should be the first
tae do the writin, said Jeannie. I canna hae a husband who canna even write
his ain name. I showed you the letters, did I not?
Aye, wumman, the nasty, loopy, bendy things! growled Rob. I dinnae
trust that Q, thats a letter that has it in for a man. Thats a letter with a
sting, that one!
You just hold the pencil on the paper and Ill tell ye what marks to
make, said Jeannie, folding her arms.
Aye, but tis a bushel of trouble, writin, said Rob. A word writ doon
can hang a man!
Wheest, now, stop that! Tis easy! snapped Jeannie. Bigjob babbies can
do it, and youre a full growed Feegle!
An writin even goes on sayin a mans wurds after hes deid! said Rob
Anybody, waving the pencil as if trying to ward off evil spirits. Ye cannae
tell me thats right!
Oh, so youre afeared o the letters, is that it? said Jeannie, artfully.
Ach, thats fine. All big men fear something. Take the pencil offf him,
Wullie. Ye cannae ask a man to face his fears.
There was silence in the mound as Daft Wullie nervously took the pencil
stub from his brother. Every beady eye was turned to Rob Anybody. His hands
opened and shut. He started to breathe heavily, still glaring at the blank
paper. He stuck out his chin.
Ach, yere a harrrrd wumman, Jeannie Mac Feegle! he said at last. He
spat on his hands and snatched back the pencil stub from Daft Wullie. Gimme
that tool o perdition! Them letters wont know whuts hit them!
Theres my brave lad! said Jeannie as Rob squared up to the paper.
Right, then. The first letter is an R. Thats the one that looks like a fat