Gardener. Secrets of the Ottoman house - страница 2

I do not cunning, saying that my stories have a good therapeutic effect, in order to tap into those parts of the brain that are responsible for the flexibility of thought. Checked experimentally: I want to reread my works, and they give a charge of mental activity.

In my opinion, these stories are ideal for preparing a script and shooting an exciting movie. If among the readers there is a knowledgeable person, I will be glad to cooperate.

In the story there is a special terminology of that time, of that era, and at the end of the book in the Notes section, detailed explanations are given so that you can more fully understand the details of the narrative.

In my table there is a large number of similar works of various themes: from serfdom to World War II and the modern era. All of them are planned for publication, as they are ready for printing.

I will be glad if you liked my book, and you have spent your time and have learned a lot of new things.

Enjoy reading!

With sincere respect for you, my dear readers!

Yours, Konstantin Krokhmal.

web-site: krohmal.ru

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One is the gardener, the other is the Vizier. The capricious will of the Great Sultan reduces them one by one, and they begin a deadly race for survival. Who of them is a hunter, and who is a victim, will decide Fate. All this happens under the unflinching gaze of the Lord of the Osman and thousands of secret spectators.

Who will win? A human machine trained to kill, or a civil servant who has passed through all circles of hell, who has many years of experience of survival in difficult situations behind his back?

The result of the duel you will learn, after reading my new book «The Gardener», which is based on real historical events.

I wish you a successful hunt!

Konstantin Krokhmal, the author.

Semi-bent scissors, which resembled two medium sized knives, fastened in the middle, slowly stuck into the green flesh of a plant with triangular sharp spikes. A long stalk cut off at an angle, with a huge half-blown scarlet bud, fell into an outstretched broad palm in a worn leather glove. Picked up like a real juggler, the flower, turning in the palm of his hand, smoothly moved into a nearby bronze jug, almost completely filled with the same red roses.