The Silver Chair. Клайв Стейплз Льюис
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And we think this may be one of the same crew.”
“Very well, then,” said Scrubb. “Pole and I have got to find this Prince. Can you help us?”
“Have you any clue, you two?” asked Glimfeather.
“Yes,” said Scrubb. “We know we’ve got to go north. And we know we’ve got to reach the ruins of a giant city.”
At this there was a greater tu-whooing than ever, and noises of birds shifting their feet and ruffling their feathers, and then all the owls started speaking at once. They all explained how very sorry they were that they themselves could not go with the children on their search for the lost Prince.
“You’d want to travel by day, and we’d want to travel by night,” they said. “It wouldn’t do, wouldn’t do.” One or two owls added that even here in the ruined tower it wasn’t nearly so dark as it had been when they began, and that the parliament had been going on quite long enough. In fact, the mere mention of a journey to the ruined city of giants seemed to have damped the spirits of those birds.
But Glimfeather said: “If they want to go that way – into Ettinsmoor – we must take them to one of the Marsh-wiggles. They’re the only people who can help them much.”
“True, true. Do,” said the owls.
“Come on, then,” said Glimfeather. “I’ll take one. Who’ll take the other? It must be done tonight.”
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