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Brooks Terry Magiczne Krolest Krolestwo na sprzedaz
Brooks Terry Shannara 004 Potomkowie Shannary
Brooks Terry Magiczne Krolest Nadworny czarodziej
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.'Then you're talking about.the famous “tick of the universe”,' he said.'And no gear cutter could possibly make gears that small.' 'It depends on what you would call a gear.Have you read this?' Lady LeJean waved a hand at one of the trolls, who lumbered over and dropped an oblong package on the counter.Jeremy undid it.It contained a small book.'Grim Fairy Tales?' he said.'Read the story about the glass clock of Bad Schüschein,' said Lady LeJean.'Children's stories?' said Jeremy.'What can they tell me?' 'Who knows? We will call again tomorrow,' said Lady LeJean, 'to hear about your plans.In the meantime, here is a little token of our good faith.' The troll laid a large leather bag on the counter.It clinked with the heavy, rich clink of gold.Jeremy didn't pay it a great deal of attention.He had quite a lot of gold.Even skilled clockmakers came to buy his clocks.Gold was useful because it gave him the time to work on more clocks.These earned him more gold.Gold was, more or less, something that occupied the space between clocks.'I can also obtain invar for you, in large quantities,' she said.'That will be part of your payment, although I agree that even invar will not serve your purpose.Mr Jeremy, both you and I know that your payment for making the first truly accurate clock will be the opportunity to make the first truly accurate clock, yes?' He smiled nervously.'It would be.wonderful, if it could be done,' he said.'Really, it would.be the end of clockmaking.' 'Yes,' said Lady LeJean.'No one would ever have to make a clock again.' Tick This desk is neat.There is a pile of books on it, and a ruler.There is also, at the moment, a clock made out of cardboard.Miss picked it up.The other teachers in the school were known as Stephanie and Joan and so on, but to her class she was very strictly Miss Susan.'Strict', in fact, was a word that seemed to cover everything about Miss Susan and, in the classroom, she insisted on the Miss in the same way that a king insists upon Your Majesty, and for pretty much the same reason.Miss Susan wore black, which the headmistress disapproved of but could do nothing about because black was, well, a respectable colour.She was young, but with an indefinable air of age about her.She wore her hair, which was blond-white with one black streak, in a tight bun.The headmistress disapproved of that, too - it suggested an Archaic Image of Teaching, she said, with the assurance of someone who could pronounce a capital letter.But she didn't ever dare disapprove of the way Miss Susan moved, because Miss Susan moved like a tiger.It was in fact always very hard to disapprove of Miss Susan in her presence, because if you did she gave you a Look.It was not in any waya threatening look.It was cool and calm.You just didn't want to see it again.The Look worked in the classroom, too.Take homework, another Archaic Practice the headmistress was ineffectually Against.No dog ever ate the homework of one of Miss Susan's students, because there was something about Miss Susan that went home with them; instead the dog brought them a pen and watched imploringly while they finished it.Miss Susan seemed to have an unerring instinct for spotting laziness and effort, too.Contrary to the headmistress's instructions, Miss Susan did not let the children do what they liked.She let them do what she liked.It had turned out to be a lot more interesting for everyone.Miss Susan held up the cardboard clock and said: 'Who can tell me what this is?' A forest of hands shot up.'Yes, Miranda?' 'It's a clock, miss.' Miss Susan smiled, carefully avoided the hand that was being waved by a boy called Vincent, who was also making frantically keen 'ooo, ooo, ooo' noises, and chose the one behind him.'Nearly right,' she said.'Yes, Samuel?' 'It's all cardboard made to look like a clock,' said the boy.'Correct.Always see what's really there.And I'm supposed to teach you to tell the time with this.' Miss Susan gave it a sneer and tossed it away.'Shall we try a different way?' she said, and snapped her fingers.'Yes!' the class chorused, and then it went 'Aah!' as the walls, floor and ceiling dropped away and the desks hovered high over the city.A few feet away was the huge cracked face of the tower clock of Unseen University.The children nudged one another excitedly.The fact that their boots were over three hundred feet of fresh air didn't seem to bother them.Oddly, too, they did not seem surprised.This was just an interesting thing.They acted like connoisseurs who had seen other interesting things.You did, when you were in Miss Susan's class.'Now, Melanie,' said Miss Susan, as a pigeon landed on her desk.'The big hand is on the twelve and the enormous hand is nearly on the ten, so it's.' Vincent's hand shot up.'Ooo, miss, ooo, ooo.' 'Nearly twelve o'clock,' Melanie managed.'Well done.But here.' The air blurred.Now the desks, still in perfect formation, were firmly on the cobbles of a plaza in a different city.So was most of the classroom.There were the cupboards, and the Nature Table, and the blackboard.But the walls still lagged behind.No one in the plaza paid the visitors any attention but, oddly, no one tried to walk into them either.The air was warmer, and smelled of sea and swamp.'Anyone know where this is?' said Miss Susan.'Ooo, me, miss, ooo, ooo.' Vincent could only stretch his body taller if his feet left the ground.'How about you, Penelope?' said Miss Susan.'Oh, miss,' said a deflated Vincent.Penelope, who was beautiful, docile and frankly dim, looked around at the thronged square and the whitewashed, awning-hung buildings with an expression close to panic.'We came here in geography last week,' said Miss Susan.'City surrounded by swamps.On the Vieux river.Famous cookery.Lots of seafood.?' Penelope's exquisite brow creased.The pigeon on Miss Susan's desk fluttered down and joined the pigeon flock prospecting for scraps among the flagstones, cooing gently to the others in pidgin pigeon.Aware that a lot could happen while people waited for Penelope to complete a thought process, Miss Susan waved at a clock on a shop across the square and said: 'And who can tell me the time here in Genua, please?' 'Ooo, miss, miss, ooo.' A boy called Gordon cautiously admitted that it might be three o'clock, to the audible disappointment of the inflatable Vincent.'That's right,' said Miss Susan.'Can anyone tell me why it's three o'clock in Genua while it's twelve o'clock in Ankh-Morpork?' There was no avoiding it this time.If Vincent's hand had gone up any faster it would have fried by air friction.'Yes, Vincent?' 'Ooo miss speed of light miss it goes at six hundred miles an hour and at the moment the sun's rising on the Rim near Genua so twelve o'clock takes three hours to get to us miss!' Miss Susan sighed.'Very good, Vincent,' she said, and stood up.Every eye in the room watched her as she crossed over to the Stationery Cupboard.It seemed to have travelled with them and now, if there had been anyone to note such things, they might have seen faint lines in the air that denoted walls and windows and doors.And if they were intelligent observers, they'd have said: so [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]