3-第十章:瘦提督的神秘身份(6)
10. THE SECRET IDENTITY OF THE THIN PREFECT
The Kidnappers threw the boys over their shoulders again and strode through several large courtyards, busy with soldiers and cooks and horses and people selling things to each other. They walked up some steps and through a door into a brightly lit, gorgeously painted room. This was the Consul's Palace. Tapestries hung from the walls, couches were draped in silken covers, the mosaic floor was warm and toasty underfoot.
The Romans certainly knew how to make themselves comfy.
In one corner of the room, the Fat Consul was having his tonsils tickled with a feather so he could vomit and fit in some more Monstrous Nightmare Crème Brûlée for pudding. In another, the Thin Prefect was having his temples massaged. He looked up when they came in and gave an "Aha!" of evil satisfaction.
At the Prefect's feet lay a particularly large Gronckle, a dragon about two meters high with a spiny ruff around its neck. When they came into the room it heaved its enormous bulk onto its thick muscly legs and an ominous growling began deep in its thick bull neck.