Потерянный континент: история Атлантиды

           Thebodyhethrewovertheside,andoneofthegreatman-eatingbirdsthathoverednear,pickeditupandflewawaywithittoitsnestamongstthecrags.Andsowewerefreetogetamealofthefruitsandthefreshmeatswhichthegalleyoffered,whilsttheoar-slavessentthegalleyrushingonwardstowardsthecapital.

           Therewasawine-skinintheafter-castle,andIfilledahornandpouredsomeoutatTob’sfeetinsalutation.“Myman,”Isaid,“youhaveshownmeafight.”

           “Thanks,”saidhe,“andIknowyouareajudge.‘Twasprettywhilstitlasted;and,seeingthatmyladswere,forthemost,scurvy-rotten,Iwillsaytheyfoughtwithcredit.IhavelostmyLordTatho’snavy,butIthinkPhorenicewillseemerightedthere.IfthosethatareagainsthertooksomuchtroubletokillmyLordDeucalionbeforehecouldcometoheraid,IcanfancyshewillnotbeniggardinherjoywhenIputDeucalionsafe,ifsomewhatdentedandblood-bespattered,onthequay.”

           “TheGodsknow,”Isaid,foritisnevermycustomtodiscusspolicieswithmyinferiors,eventhoughetiquettebeforthemomentloosened,asourswasthenbythethrillofbattle.“TheGodswilldecidewhatisbestforyou,Tob,evenastheyhavedecidedthatitisbestthatIshouldgoontoAtlantis.”

           Thesailorheldahornfilledfromthewine-skininhishand,andIthinkwasmindedtopouralibationatmyfeet,evenasIhaddoneathis.Buthechangedhismind,andemptieditdownhisthroatinstead.“Itisthirstywork,thisfighting,”hesaid,“andthatdrinkcomesveryuseful