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The Colour of Magic :: Пратчетт Терри
Страница: 130 из 150“What’s this wine—crushed octopus eyeballs?”
“Seagrape,” said the old man.
“Great,” said Rincewind, and swallowed a glassful. “Not bad. A bit salty, maybe.”
“Sea grape is a kind of small jellyfish,” explained the stranger. “And now I really think I should introduce myself. Why has your friend gone that strange colour?”
“Culture shock, I imagine,” said Twoflower. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Garhartra. I’m the Guestmaster, you see. It is my pleasant task to make sure that your stay here is as delightful as possible.” He bowed. “If there is anything you want you have only to say.”
Twoflower sat down on an ornate mother-of-pearl chair with a glass of oily wine in one hand and a crystallised squid in the other. He frowned.
“I think I’ve missed something along the way,” he said. “First we were told we were going to be slaves—”
“A base canard!” interrupted Garhartra.
“What’s a canard?” said Twoflower.
“I think it’s a kind of duck,” said Rincewind from the far end of the long table. “Are these biscuits made of something really nauseating, do you suppose?”
“—and then we were rescued at great magical expense—”
“They’re made of pressed seaweed,” snapped the Guestmaster.
“—but then we’re threatened, also at a vast expenditure of magic—”
“Yes, I thought it would be something like seaweed,” agreed Rincewind. “They certainly taste like seaweed would taste if anyone was masochistic enough to eat seaweed.”
“—and then we’re manhandled by guards and thrown in here—”
“Pushed gently,” corrected Garhartra.
“—which turned out to be this amazingly rich room and there’s all this food and a man saying he’s devoting his life to making us happy,” Twoflower concluded. “What I’m getting at is this sort of lack of consistency.”
“Yar,” said Rincewind. “What he means is, are you about to start being generally unpleasant again? Is this just a break for lunch?”
Garhartra held up his hands reassuringly.
“Please, please,” he protested. “It was just necessary to get you here as soon as possible. We certainly do not want to enslave you. Please be reassured on that score.”
“Well, fine,” said Rincewind.
“Yes, you will in fact be sacrificed,” Garhartra continued placidly.
“Sacrificed? You’re going to kill us?” shouted the wizard.
“Kill? Yes, of course.
“Seagrape,” said the old man.
“Great,” said Rincewind, and swallowed a glassful. “Not bad. A bit salty, maybe.”
“Sea grape is a kind of small jellyfish,” explained the stranger. “And now I really think I should introduce myself. Why has your friend gone that strange colour?”
“Culture shock, I imagine,” said Twoflower. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Garhartra. I’m the Guestmaster, you see. It is my pleasant task to make sure that your stay here is as delightful as possible.” He bowed. “If there is anything you want you have only to say.”
Twoflower sat down on an ornate mother-of-pearl chair with a glass of oily wine in one hand and a crystallised squid in the other. He frowned.
“I think I’ve missed something along the way,” he said. “First we were told we were going to be slaves—”
“A base canard!” interrupted Garhartra.
“What’s a canard?” said Twoflower.
“I think it’s a kind of duck,” said Rincewind from the far end of the long table. “Are these biscuits made of something really nauseating, do you suppose?”
“—and then we were rescued at great magical expense—”
“They’re made of pressed seaweed,” snapped the Guestmaster.
“—but then we’re threatened, also at a vast expenditure of magic—”
“Yes, I thought it would be something like seaweed,” agreed Rincewind. “They certainly taste like seaweed would taste if anyone was masochistic enough to eat seaweed.”
“—and then we’re manhandled by guards and thrown in here—”
“Pushed gently,” corrected Garhartra.
“—which turned out to be this amazingly rich room and there’s all this food and a man saying he’s devoting his life to making us happy,” Twoflower concluded. “What I’m getting at is this sort of lack of consistency.”
“Yar,” said Rincewind. “What he means is, are you about to start being generally unpleasant again? Is this just a break for lunch?”
Garhartra held up his hands reassuringly.
“Please, please,” he protested. “It was just necessary to get you here as soon as possible. We certainly do not want to enslave you. Please be reassured on that score.”
“Well, fine,” said Rincewind.
“Yes, you will in fact be sacrificed,” Garhartra continued placidly.
“Sacrificed? You’re going to kill us?” shouted the wizard.
“Kill? Yes, of course.