Miroslava1972: переводы

→“So when those barbarian bandits had gone,” Trogg interrupted, “we got busy, the few of us left in the village, treating wounds, building houses, fixing our fences and our wagons and starting all over.”

→“Silence!” shouted Trogg. “I’m telling this story! They had knives as long as your arm, boy. Torch in one hand, knife in the other. Anyone stupid enough to step out of the house got sliced up like a piece of cheese.”

→“And our housedid burn!” cried Trogg. “They rampaged through the village. They set fire to our roofs; they stole the stores from our barns; they drove off our animals.”

→“Oh, the terror, the terror,” wailed the mother, as if she were seeing it all happening again. She clasped her head in her hands and pulled down, making her eyes droop at the sides and turning her mouth into an upside-down U. “Woe and alas! I thought our house would burn. I thought my children would die.”

→“They had torches,” said Kanza, stretching one hand up over her head. “Three-foot-high flames.”

→The whole family pressed closer to Doon, staring down at him, their backs to the fire, their faces lit only dimly by the candles they wore in their strange caps. They were a circle of fire-horned monsters, looming over him, closing in. He stifled the urge to scream at them and struggle. It wouldn’t help. He would have to use his wits to get out of this. Pay attention, pay attention, he reminded himself. It was what his father had told him when he first started working in the Pipeworks, the vast system of tunnels beneath Ember’s streets, down by the river that supplied the city’s water. It had helped him then. Maybe it would help him now, too. So he listened hard to what Trogg was saying.

→“I don’t know much about bandits,” Doon said.