Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
It was at this map that the master of Niss'rosh, the eagle's nest, was peering as the curtain rises on our story. He was half reclining in a big, Chinese bamboo chair, with an attitude of utter and disheartening boredom. His crossed legs were stretched out, one heel digging into the soft pile of the Tabreez rug.
Spring had long departed the spring of the year in which the Eagle of the Air had flung itself aloft from the Palisades, freighted with such vast hopes. Summer was past and gone. The sparkling wine of autumn had already begun to bubble in the cup of the year. Sunset, as when this tale began. Sunset, bronzing the observatory of Niss'rosh, on top of the huge skyscraper.
As soon as you can get over here in a taxi, from that incredibly stupid club of yours. You can get to Niss'rosh even though it's after seven. Take the regular elevator to the forty-first floor, and I'll have Rrisa meet you and bring you up here in the special. "That's a concession, isn't it? The sealed gates that no one else ever passes, at night, are opened to you. It's very important.
Upborne on the wings of wondrous power, wings all aquiver with their first stupendous leap into the night-sky, the Master impassive, watchful, cool seemed as if seated in his easy-chair at Niss'rosh. "That will do, Major!" he repeated. "None of your extravagance, sir! No time now for rodomontade!"
Word Of The Day