Мор - ученик смерти

           Therewerecertainproblemscausedbythefactthattheydidn’thearonlythesubtleechoesofthefirstwords,buteveryothersoundmadeontheDisc.InordertorecognisethesoundoftheWords,theyhadtolearntorecognisealltheothernoises.Thiscalledforacertaintalent,andanovicewasonlyacceptedfortrainingifhecoulddistinguishbysoundalone,atadistanceofathousandyards,whichsideadroppedcoinlanded.Hewasn’tactuallyacceptedintotheorderuntilhecouldtellwhatcolouritwas.

           AndalthoughtheHolyListenersweresoremote,manypeopletooktheextremelylonganddangerouspathtotheirtemple,travellingthroughfrozen,troll-hauntedlands,fordingswifticyrivers,climbingforbiddingmountains,trekkingacrossinhospitabletundra,inordertoclimbthenarrowstairwaythatledintothehiddenvalleyandseekwithanopenheartthesecretsofbeing.

           Andthemonkswouldcryuntothem,’Keepthebloodynoisedown!’

           Binkycamethroughthemountaintopslikeawhiteblur,touchingdowninthesnowyemptinessofacourtyardmadespectralbythediscolightfromthesky.Mortleaptfromhisbackandranthroughthesilentcloisterstotheroomwherethe88thabbotlaydying,surroundedbyhisdevoutfollowers.

           Mort’sfootstepsboomedashehurriedacrosstheintricatemosaicfloor.Themonksthemselvesworewoollenovershoes.

           Hereachedthebedandwaitedforamoment,leaningonthescythe,untilhecouldgethisbreathback.

           Theabbot,whowassmallandtotallybaldandhadmorewrinklesthanasackfulofprunes,openedhiseyes.

           ’You’relate,’hewhispered,anddied.