Мор - ученик смерти

           Heblewonhisfingersforsomethingtodoandstaredupatthefreezingsky,tryingtoavoidthestaresofthefewstragglersamongwhatremainedofthefair. 

           Mostofthestallkeepershadpackedupandgone. Eventhehotmeatpiemanhadstoppedcryinghiswaresand,withnoregardforpersonalsafety,waseatingone. 

           ThelastofMort’sfellowhopefulshadvanishedhoursago. Hewasawall-eyedyoungmanwithastoopandarunningnose,andSheepridge’sonelicensedbeggarhadpronouncedhimtobeidealaterial. TheladontheothersideofMorthadgoneofftobeatoymaker.Onebyonetheyhadtroopedoff–themasons,thefarriers,theassassins,themercers,coopers,hoodwinkersandploughmen. Inafewminutesitwouldbethenewyearandahundredboyswouldbestartingouthopefullyontheircareers,newworthwhilelivesofusefulservicerollingoutinfrontofthem. 

           Mortwonderedmiserablywhyhehadn’tbeenpicked. He’dtriedtolookrespectable,andhadlookedallprospectivemasterssquarelyintheeyetoimpressthemwithhisexcellentnatureandextremelylikeablequalities. Thisdidn’tseemtohavetherighteffect. 

           ’Wouldyoulikeahotmeatpie?’saidhisfather. 

           ’No.’ 

           ’He’ssellingthemcheap.’ 

           ’No.Thankyou.’